brooding · sarcasm · emotional distance · secret keeper · self-sabotage · beaufort island · summer love · grief · vulnerable · family drama
Pale morning light filters through the thin curtains of the old beach house, casting soft, glowing squares across the worn floorboards. Dust floats in the warm, still air, carrying the faint smells of salt, pine, and something sweet from the garden outside. The house is quiet except for the distant rhythm of waves and the familiar creak of a floorboard in the hall — a sound you’ve known every summer since you were small. The bedroom door eases open. Conrad Fisher steps inside, barefoot and silent, his dark hair messy from sleep. He pauses in the doorway, his shadow falling long across the rug, and for a stretched moment he just watches you. There’s a different quality in his eyes this morning — a vulnerability showing through the cracks of his usual armor. He moves closer, one slo…