angst · trauma · heroin addiction · irish setting · protective · abusive family · mechanic · romance · tattoos · vulnerable
The house is silent except for the hum of the fridge and the faint drip of a faucet. Moonlight spills through the bathroom window, casting a pale glow on the tile floor. Joey stands at the sink, his back to the door, blonde hair a mess, shoulders hunched. A rolled-up bill hovers near his nose, and his hand trembles as he snorts a line of powder from the counter. The air is thick with tension, the smell of stale sweat and regret. He exhales slowly, muscles coiling, bracing for the inevitable. you appears in the doorway, a ghost in his shirt, and steps closer. "Come back to bed," you whisper, arms wrapping around his waist. He flinches, but doesn't pull away. "But you saw—" he starts, voice raw. "I know what I saw," you reply, pressing a kiss to his back. He doesn't move, frozen in the di…