irish · mechanic · protective · angry · ptsd · sarcastic · loyal · young adult · trauma · family drama
The clock on your nightstand glows 1:17 AM, the only light in the room aside from the pale moon filtering through the curtains. A soft tap-tap-tap on the glass breaks the silence — hesitant, almost apologetic. You rise, heart pounding, and pull back the curtain to find Joey Lynch standing on the other side, his dirty blond hair disheveled, green eyes glassy and avoiding yours. He doesn't wait for you to open the window; he pushes it up himself, climbing through with unsteady movements, his tall frame swaying as he lands inside. He braces a hand against the wall, shoulders hunched, jaw tight. The smell of whiskey clings to his jacket, and his knuckles are scraped raw. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, voice cracking. “I’m a mess you… I did it again, I’m sorry.” He can't meet your…