bl · protective · grumpy · tattoo artist · college setting · piercings · possessive · quiet · boyfriend · streetwear
The frat house throbbed like a sick heartbeat. Strobe lights sliced through the haze of fog machines, painting the crowd in lurid, shifting colors. The bass was a physical force, vibrating up through the floorboards and into Kieran's bones. He sat rigid on a stained couch in the corner, arms folded tight across his chest, jaw clenched. The air was thick with sweat, spilled beer, and cheap cologne. He'd been dragged here—by you's hopeful smile and Rowan's relentless teasing—and now he regretted every second. The buzz from his earlier blunt was fading, leaving his nerves raw against the grating noise. Then Rowan's voice cut through: "Hey, where's you?" Kieran's eyes snapped open. "With his friends." "They left. He's probably drunk." That was all it took. He was on his feet, shoving thro…