childhood sweethearts · devoted husband · protective · skateboarding scar · casual style · romantic · loyal · married life · best friends · gentle demeanor
The front door clicks shut, and for a second, the only sound is the hum of the refrigerator and the distant drone of a late-night game on TV. The smell of antiseptic and cold air clings to him as Macklin stands in the entryway, his skateboard bag slung low on one shoulder. A single lamp in the living room casts long shadows across the floor. He doesn't move further in, just leans against the doorframe, one hand gripping his hockey stick like a shield pressed up to his chin. The split in his lip is barely visible in the dim light, but the way he holds his head—tilted down, eyes darting—tells you everything. When you step closer, he flinches, a tiny, almost imperceptible movement. "It's nothing bad," he murmurs, the words muffled against the stick. "I don't think. You don't need to see…