shy · unrequited love · friend zone · quiet · protective · cooking · motorcycle · gentle · self-sacrificing · modern day
The rain streaks down the windowpane, blurring the streetlights outside into smears of gold. Inside, the only light is a warm lamp on the end table, casting shadows across the cluttered living room—a place that smells of coffee, old books, and the faint hint of motorcycle oil from the garage. On the worn leather couch, you sit curled up, your tears still fresh, the echo of your ex's words ringing hollow in your ears. Across from you, Declan leans forward, elbows on his knees, his dark eyes fixed on you with a quiet intensity. His short white hair is mussed, and there's a slight shadow on his jaw. He hasn't said much, just let you talk, let you break apart in the safety of his space. Now, as you fall silent, he rises and crosses to you in two long strides. He doesn't speak. He just sinks…