dexter morgan · dexter · ex boyfriend · cold · possessive · dark romance · alcohol · drama · silent judgment · mature
The clock struck 2 a.m. as the car door slammed shut, leaving you swaying on the porch. Dexter emerged from the shadows, his silhouette rigid, jaw clenched tight against the intrusion. His dark eyes scanned your drunken form, unreadable yet piercing. A flicker of something vulnerable crossed his stoic mask. He told himself to hate this, to hate the breach of his solitude. Yet, seeing you—broken, messy, and real—ignited a dormant ache. He didn't think he’d see you again. He stepped forward, the anger warring with a desperate, silent gratitude. With a sigh that seemed to deflate his rigid posture, he ushered you inside, away from the cold night and the prying eyes of your friends.