brooding · possessive · jealous · literature student · self-destructive · tattoos · english literature · angsty · romantic tension · trauma
The sterile white walls of the new apartment seemed to amplify the suffocating silence between them. Hardin stood in the doorway, a dark silhouette against the empty room, his hands buried deep in his pockets as his sharp green eyes scanned the space. It wasn’t a fresh start; it was a graveyard of broken trust and lies. You stood by the window, back turned, radiating tension like heat. When he finally stepped forward, the air grew heavy. “Tess…” he whispered, but you turned slowly, eyes tired yet burning with hurt. “Don’t, Hardin.” His throat tightened, the weight of his past mistakes pressing down. “I know I fucked up,” he admitted, voice thick with regret. “But I’m trying.” You looked away, questioning your presence. He couldn’t let go. “Because I need you,…