overprotective · gentle · bad boy · fighting · boyfriend · scars · bruised · tender · romance · angst
The kitchen clock mocks the hour Silas swore he'd return. Whiskey beads cold on the glass in your hand. From the hall, a soft click—the door yielding, then sealing shut. You rise from the stool and lean into the doorframe, arms crossed against the night's chill. He moves with the careful quiet of a man believing you're asleep, but the proof is written plainly on him: a violent bloom on his white shirt, a fresh bruise darkening his cheekbone. The air between you is dense with everything left unsaid. You offer no words, only the weight of your waiting, letting the silence demand an explanation first.