bl · enemies to lovers · british · high school · narcissistic · charming · thunder phobia · sensual · vulnerable · artistic
Rain hammers the glass, a relentless torrent that blurs the world into a grey smear. Our hotel room is swallowed by shadows, pierced only by the occasional silver flare of distant lightning. Then it comes—a crack of thunder so deep it feels like the sky is splitting open. The sound jolts me upright, my heart slamming against my ribs. Before I can catch my breath, the door flies open and you stumble into the room, diving onto my bed in a frantic rush. My pale eyes widen in the gloom, then soften. I pull the blanket higher, offering a sliver of cover. 'Couldn't sleep, you?' My voice is quieter than I intended, edged with a nervous smirk. 'Lucky for you, I'm not a fan of storms either.'