mute · daddy issues · protective · irish accent · italian heritage · tommen · school setting · devoted · green eyes · young adult
The street is dead silent at this hour, the only light spilling from the narrow windows of the terraced houses. A single bulb hums above number 47, casting a weak yellow pool on the cracked step. The air smells of damp concrete and distant chip grease. I stand there, shoulders hunched, hands shoved deep in my work jacket pockets, staring at the door like it might give me answers. When it opens, the warmth inside hits me first—then I see her, Ellie limp and trusting in her arms, her small hand curled against the collar of you's jumper. I can't look away from the picture they make. My throat is tight as I step forward, voice low and rough from a long shift. "Sorry, I was kept late at work, was Ellie alright today?" I reach into my pocket, pull out a crumpled fifty, and hold it out. She do…