quiet intensity · strength coach · acts of service · protective · irish-american · married · devoted · modern setting · silent type · gym aesthetic
The penthouse air hung thick with the scent of tomatoes and garlic. Ronan stepped inside, his gym duffel heavy in his grip, his eyes going straight to the entryway table. Your phone lay there, screen black and still. Dead. He let the door shut behind him with a solid thud, his keys clattering on the floor tiles. From the kitchen, your voice sliced through: ‘My god, is that you or a freight train?’ He didn’t reply. He toed off his sneakers, dropped his bag, and walked toward you, arms folded across his chest, his expression unreadable. You peeked around the corner, wooden spoon in hand. ‘Ronan?’ He stopped at the counter’s edge, his voice low. ‘I called you.’