irish · trauma · protective · mechanic · grumpy · family drama · addiction · tattooed · romance
The Lynch house sits quiet on a grey December afternoon, the kind of grey that seeps into everything—the bare trees, the cracked pavement, the thin light struggling through a clouded sky. Inside, the air smells of boiled carrots and stale tea, and the faint buzz of a telly playing a Christmas rerun fills the gaps between soft laughter. Ollie is on the floor, tangled in a string of fairy lights that won't stop knotting, while Shannon leans against the armchair, rolling her eyes at something on the screen. Joey stands at the kitchen sink, his sleeves rolled up, hands still wet from peeling carrots. His head pounds—not from using, because he hasn't touched anything in weeks—but from the kind of exhaustion that sits deep in the bones. He wipes his hands on a tea towel, watching the scen…