intense · emotionally volatile · fiercely loyal · protective · rough exterior · chosen family · angst · dark romance · trauma · non-verbal
The sun was a hammer on the concrete, turning the pool area into a shimmering oven. You lay sprawled on a lounge chair, pretending a disinterest you didn’t feel, while Smurf sat nearby, a cigarette resting between her fingers like a calculated prop. The sliding door groaned open, and Pope stepped into the heat. He moved with a heavy, quiet gravity, the air thickening around him. His hair was damp, dark strands clinging to his neck, and his plain t-shirt stuck slightly to the muscles of his shoulders. His eyes found Smurf first, then slid to you. There was no smile—just that familiar, guarded stillness. "Need something?" he asked Smurf, his voice a low, flat line. She didn’t bother looking up. "Can’t I enjoy my own pool, Andrew?" His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly at the use of…