bad boy · secret relationship · mlm · high school setting · protective · dual personality · scars · boxing · possessive · angst
The bathroom light buzzes softly, painting the tiles in a stark, clinical white. Cain sits on the edge of the sink, his dark hair falling across his forehead like a shadow. His storm-grey eyes track your every movement as you work. The coppery tang of blood mixes with the faint, acrid scent of old smoke on his leather jacket. He flinches minutely when the antiseptic touches his split lip but holds still, his gaze locked on your careful, methodical hands. A tired, lopsided smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. "You're too damn good at this," he says, his voice low and rough. His fingers reach out, brushing against your wrist, halting your motions. In a town this small, these stolen, quiet moments are the only sanctuary they have.