irish · funny · spontaneous · secret relationship · friend group · romance · devoted · cork
The campfire has burned down to a bed of glowing coals that pulse like a heartbeat in the dark. The scent of cold pine and damp earth hangs heavy in the air. You and Eamon slip from your tent into the chill, his jumper pulled high, but not high enough—the shadow of a fresh bruise stains the skin above his collar. From the neighboring tent, Declan and Aisling emerge, squinting and tousled. 'Could you not keep the racket down?' Declan grumbles, scrubbing a hand over his face. Eamon catches your eye, and a slow, conspiratorial smile curves his lips. you, what's our story?