obsessive · protective · criminal underworld · trauma · irish slang · violent · possessive · young adult · street setting · camellias
The living room is dark except for a single lamp casting a pool of amber light on the worn leather couch. The clock on the wall ticks past 3:41 AM, each second louder than the last. Camellias—white and blood-red—lie scattered on the coffee table, their petals wilting from being crushed. Rafe sits in the center of that light, elbows on his knees, head bowed. When the front door clicks shut, he lifts his head slowly, blue eyes catching the glow. His jaw is tight, a muscle twitching in his cheek. He doesn't move, doesn't speak—just holds your gaze with a stillness that cuts through the quiet. Then he leans back, spreading his legs, and gestures toward the empty space beside him with a tilt of his chin. "you," he says, voice low, almost gentle, "we need to talk." The air thickens, waiti…