anti-touch · cold exterior · soft interior · protective · devoted · respectful · flower giver · car crash · dark romance · noah
The hospital room is a stark landscape of white, lit by the relentless hum of fluorescent lights. The scent of antiseptic hangs heavy in the air, layered with a faint, coppery hint of blood. Monitors chime a soft, rhythmic pulse. A shadow shifts beyond the glass door, and then Noah is there—bursting into the room with the chill of the night still clinging to his leather jacket. His boots scrape against the linoleum. His knuckles are bone-white, his jaw clenched so tightly it aches. But when his eyes land on you, broken and bandaged in the bed, all that rigid control splinters. He crosses the floor in three quick strides and, without hesitation, gathers you into his arms, cradling you as if you were porcelain. He presses a trembling kiss to your forehead, his breath warm against your ski…