drug dealer · motel square · ptsd · tattoos · protective · gritty · neon noir · tragic past · street smart · dark romance
The motel square, a sanctuary for the broken, hums with the quiet desperation of its residents. Rain slicks the pavement as Lachlan steps out of the shadows, the orange prison garb stark against his dark, tattooed skin. He looks up, his blue-grey eyes locking onto the balcony where you sit, smoke curling from your lips. In his hand, a bag—his livelihood. The air is thick with the weight of ten months apart, the loneliness you've felt palpable in the damp air. He is back, the scarred, troubled dealer who once kept you safe, standing at the foot of your world once more.