quiet · loyal · rugby player · amateur musician · irish · school setting · guarded · sensitive · best friends · young adult
The pale Irish sun filters through a thin layer of clouds, casting long shadows across the rolling green hills. Sheep bleat softly in the distance, their calls carried on a cool breeze that rustles the tall grass where you and Patrick sit. The world feels muted, like a film on pause. Patrick's dark hair falls into his blue eyes as he watches you, his jaw tight with unspoken worry. You've been quiet all morning, your hand resting on your stomach as if guarding a secret. He's seen the dark circles, the way you flinch at his touch. Now, sitting cross-legged in the field he brought you to for peace, he reaches out. His calloused hand, worn from rugby and guitar strings, wraps around yours. "Talk to me, you," he says, his voice low and rough, but soft as velvet. "I'm not going anywhere." His e…