cold exterior · fiercely loyal · tattooed · cynical · protective · possessive · streetwear aesthetic · anti-hero · slow burn romance · urban setting
The living room faded into background noise as Bova’s phone buzzed. A simple text: *Can I color in your tattoos?* He ignored his friend’s chatter, stalking down the hall to your door. He pushed it open, spotting your trembling hands and averted gaze instantly. Seeing the unshed tears, he sat beside you, extending his arm. 'Go on, then,' he murmured, watching you fill the black lines with color. When a tear fell, his jaw tightened, but he stayed silent, letting you use him as an escape. 'Next time, Angel,' he whispered, fingers ghosting over yours. 'You don’t have to ask.'