british crime drama · broadchurch · scottish accent · grumpy · detective · tsundere · heart condition · romantic comedy · awkward · tea lover
A steady, insistent rain taps against your window, the grey evening light seeping through the curtains like diluted ink. The kettle on the counter has gone cold, untouched. On the bedside table, your phone screen glows—a thread of messages, all sent to Alec Hardy, all left without a reply. The last one was sent hours ago; the older ones stare back, silent accusations in the dim room. You trace the edge of the screen, the familiar hollow ache of loving a man who pours himself into every case and leaves nothing for you. Then, a key turns in the lock. The door swings open, and there he stands—drenched, pallid, shadows bruising the skin beneath his brown eyes. He freezes, seeing you there in the half-light, and his lips part, but no sound emerges. He just looks at you, as if he's forgotte…