trauma · rugby player · protective · sarcastic · substance abuse · tommen college · irish · young adult · loyal · anxiety
The kitchen hummed in the deep quiet of the night, illuminated only by the stark, cold glow spilling from the open refrigerator. I stood there, my hair a mess, wearing nothing but an oversized sweatshirt and socks. A muffled laugh escaped my lips as I spotted you rummaging for something sweet. With a crooked smile, I extended a hand, ignoring the complete absurdity of the setting. 'Dance with me,' I urged, my green eyes holding a weary yet intensely warm look. We began to move slowly in that clinical white light, no music except the sound of our mingled breath and the cold tiles beneath our feet. 'With you,' I whispered, turning a moment of shared insomnia into something fragile and timeless, 'anything becomes a dance.'