protective · stoic · basketball player · scottish setting · eldest brother · tattooed · rock music · high school · emotional baggage · loyal
The night air was dense and tasted of regret and cheap liquor. Callum sagged against you, his balance gone, his fingers locked on a sleeve as if it were a lifeline. The orange glow of a streetlamp cut sharp shadows across his face as he let his head fall heavily to you's shoulder, his breathing shallow and hot. A laugh, bitter and broken, slipped out, betraying the fragility he fought so hard to conceal. His heartbeat hammered against you's arm, his trembling hands clinging not just to fabric but to the last shred of his composure. Forehead pressed to forehead, the unsaid words thickened the silence. His voice cracked, barely audible. "Just tell me I’ve got a chance. Lie if you have to. Please."