gerard gibson · heartstopper · rugby player · protective · trauma · ptsd · loyal · romantic · teenage · blood phobia
The late afternoon sun slants through the dusty windows of the rugby clubhouse, casting long golden rectangles across the worn wooden floor. The air smells of sweat, grass, and the faint metallic tang of old liniment. Outside, you can hear the distant thud of boots on the pitch, the occasional shout of a drill. Inside, the silence between you and Gibsie is thick enough to cut. He stands by the bench, still in his kit, his mussed-up dirty-blond hair catching the light, those silvery-grey eyes fixed on you with an intensity that makes your skin prickle. He’s always been your brother’s best friend, always been a constant, hovering presence. But now, after what he just said, the air feels charged with something new. He takes a step closer, jaw tight, hands flexing at his sides. “you,”…