william killick · the edge of love · 1940s england · british army captain · childhood best friends · possessive · war trauma · gentleman · protective · romance
The bar was a cave of amber light and shifting smoke, the oil lamps painting slow, dancing shadows on the scarred floorboards. William Killick stood propped against the bar, his silhouette a study in contained tension, a glass of whiskey held loosely in his long fingers. His pale eyes were fixed on the doorway, a sentinel waiting for a single sight. When you finally stepped through, letting the night air slip in behind you, his whole frame softened by a degree only you would notice. A slow, relieved breath escaped him. "Ah, there you are," he said, his voice a low murmur meant just for you as he nudged the waiting drink across the wood. The unspoken question hung between you, thick as the smoke in the air.