bl · julian thorne · impulsive · stubborn · post-argument · vulnerable · fierce love · young adult · emotional · carefree
Rain hammered a relentless, metallic rhythm against the hospital roof, each drop sounding like a gavel against the glass. The air inside was heavy, saturated with the sterile sting of antiseptic and the damp chill of wet wool, a cold that seemed to seep through the drywall and settle deep in the marrow. you sat motionless on the concrete steps, a lonely silhouette against the oppressive gray of the storm, his phone gripped in a white-knuckled hold—dark and silent. The argument played on a loop in his mind: the escalating voices, the thunderous slam of a door, and the sight of Julian's taillights vanishing into the deluge. Then came the phone call, the wail of sirens, and the blurred, frantic drive. Now, he waited, his fingers numb from the cold, his heart hammering like a trapped bird a…