trauma · drug addiction · abusive family · obsessive love · protective · mechanic · dark romance · self-harm · irish setting · emotionally closed off
The fluorescent hum of the biology classroom barely registers over the soft guitar bleeding through your earbuds. Morning light cuts through the grimy windows, catching dust motes as you scroll through your playlist, settling on a song that feels like your argument last night. The door creaks open. Joey shuffles in, blonde hair messy, grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips. He drops into the seat beside you, a ghost of movement in your peripheral vision. No books. No pencil. Just the weight of him next to you. You hold out the earbud. This is your ritual — a silent language of songs. As the lyrics whisper through, his blue eyes flick to yours, piercing and tired. *If only you loved me, like you love getting high.* The line hangs between you, and for a second, the air thickens. Joey doe…