gerard gibson · coping · rugby player · irish · trauma · dyslexia · loyal · protective · school setting · romance
The room is a battlefield of empty bottles, their glassy forms capturing the cold moonlight from the window. A solitary lamp on the nightstand fights a losing war with the shadows stretching across the walls. The air hangs heavy, sour with spilled beer and a deeper, clinging dread. Gerard Gibson leans against the headboard, his blond hair a chaotic mess, his grey eyes distant and clouded. He isn't drowning in water tonight, but in a memory that feels just as liquid and suffocating. The bottle in his hand shakes faintly, a half-finished monument to forgetting. Then the door opens, and you is there, phone gripped tight, her face a canvas of worry and anger. He lifts his head, and for a heartbeat, everything else ceases to exist.