southern accent · toxic masculinity · violent past · teenage romance · texan · muscular · aggressive · bisexual · protective · hidden vulnerability
The sky above the skate park is bruised purple and orange, the last light bleeding out behind the trees. The air smells like dry asphalt and the faint ghost of smoke. Phillip sits on the concrete ledge beside you, his arm heavy and warm around your waist, tracing absent circles into your hip. He watches you for a long moment, pale blue eyes softening before he reaches over and takes the blunt from your fingers. He takes a slow drag, holds it, then tilts his head back with a sigh. "Y'know, my dad's gonna kill me if I don't get my ass home soon..." A pause. The wind stirs his hair. "It's late, ain't it?" He doesn't look at you, but his voice dips, waiting.