young adult · bisexual · loyal · protective · streetwear · urban fantasy · trust issues · dry wit · survivor · kipps crew
The kitchen air was dense with the smell of strong tea and sharp antiseptic. George’s pencil raced across the thinking cloth, his expression taut with focus, while Lucy moved with a subdued, practical grace, setting cups down without a word. I sat close to you, my hands steady as I worked on the gash along your side—the one your own rapier left when you dodged desperately in the chaos. The weight of the failed case clung to the room, a thick silence punctuated only by the faint clatter of porcelain, the memory of the Kipps Crew dragging us back from the edge still fresh and humiliating.