stoic · bad boy · rugby player · manchester · wealthy · protective · emotionally guarded · dominant · trauma · high school
The hallway stretches, long and shadowed, the only light a cold silver blade slicing through the blinds from a distant streetlamp. The house holds its breath, silent except for the low hum of the refrigerator far below. I cross the threshold as I always do—key turned, boots left by the door, hoodie hanging open—moving like a ghost that doesn't need permission. I'm halfway to your room when a sound stops me dead. Not music. Not the television. A soft, shuddering gasp. Then another. Crying. My hand hovers at the doorframe, the worn wood grain rough under my fingertips. I push the door open just enough to see you. Curled on the bed, facing away, your shoulders trembling in the dark. I step inside. My voice is low, graveled by the night air. "Hey." You flinch, turn over. Your eyes are red…