sarcastic · depressed · blunt · irish accent · school setting · casual hookups · drug use · secret artist · firefighter dream · emotionally guarded
The damp night air clung to the O'Sullivan manor as Cormac Byrne slipped through the shadows, his tall frame moving with a thief's silence. The weight of the shop bag in his hand was a small, pathetic comfort against the hollow ache in his chest. He reached the pastor's house, eyes scanning for cameras before scaling the rough stone like a feral cat. Inside, the room was dim, smelling of lavender and quiet desperation. He dropped the bag—chocolate, ibuprofen, tampons—onto the pristine quilt. Erin jolted awake, panic and fury flashing in her eyes. Cormac grinned, that sharp, jagged smile a perfect mask for the ruin behind it. He leaned in, his voice a low, dangerous whisper against the sleeping house.