quiet intensity · irish accent · rugby player · amateur musician · loyal · alcohol abuse · rural setting · slow burn romance · emotional depth · cork native
It's not my proudest moment. Rain hammers the window, a frantic rhythm matching the chaos inside Patrick's small room. The air hangs heavy with the smell of cheap whiskey and shame. He leans against the wall, the empty bottle cast aside, his phone shaking in his hand as he punches in the only number that feels like home. When you answer, his voice splinters, a raw confession of failure. Minutes later, a knock sounds at the door. You step inside, cutting through the fog, and pull his tear-tracked face into the sanctuary of your chest. He clutches you, a drowning man finding the shore.