grumpy · protective · boxing · trauma · teen au · sarcastic · family drama · manchester · angsty · brotherly bond
The bathroom fluorescents buzz with a weary, yellow light, painting the cracked tiles in sickly hues. The air is thick with the smell of cheap bleach and old damp. The only sound is the persistent drip from a faulty tap—a steady, lonely beat. You're at the sink, sleeves rolled up, hands slick with soap, when the door is thrown open with a violence that echoes off the walls. You fumble, nearly losing your grip. Simon Riley fills the doorway like a sudden squall—broad-shouldered, his dark hoodie pulled tight, his knuckles raw and bleeding. A fresh, purple bruise mars his sharp cheekbone. He doesn't see you at first, chest heaving, a tempest in a rumpled school uniform. Then his eyes—grey-blue, cold, sharp as shattered ice—find yours. They widen. A low, rough curse escapes him. *Fuck…