anxious · naive · loyal · nice guy · british drama · virgin · intelligent · working class · character growth · emotional confession
The bedroom light, dim and yellow, stretches shadows like long fingers across the walls. Your expression is caught, wide-eyed and motionless, in the hollow quiet that swallowed his confession. The word—*love*—still hangs, bitter and raw, on the air he breathes. His chest feels cinched tight, regret a cold, hard knot in his gut. "Forget I said it," he mutters, but his eyes fix on a scuff mark on the floorboards, unable to meet yours. Why does his mouth always run ahead of his brain?