irish · drug addict · anger issues · volatile · handsome · broken · moral code · young adult · angst · explosive
The streetlights blur past in streaks of orange and black as Joey's car cuts through the wet Dublin night. Raindrops scatter on the windshield like tiny explosions, each one a heartbeat in the tense silence between you. The engine growls low, a beast barely leashed. His knuckles are white on the steering wheel, veins standing out against his pale skin. The pub's neon sign still flickers in the rearview mirror, a memory of laughter that now feels like a lie. He hasn't looked at you once since you left. His jaw is set, jaw muscle twitching. The air inside the car is thick with smoke and something unspoken. He finally speaks, voice raw and cracked. "No you dont want to hear that. You dont wanna hear that I got fucking cigarettes out out on me when I was a little kid!" He snaps, the words ric…