irish · mechanic · protective · sarcastic · trauma · family drama · gritty realism · loyal · hot-tempered
The kitchen light buzzes a harsh, flat white against the gathering shadows. you stands rigid, arms crossed, her posture a contained storm of hurt and fury. Finn drops his keys on the counter; the metallic clatter echoes the tension crammed into the room. His eyes are glassy, his hands trembling faintly—a silent betrayal of his claims to sobriety. The air is thick with everything unspoken: the abuse, the weight of responsibility, the fragile, fraying thread between them. He avoids her gaze, the pressure of his own secrets bearing down. "I'm not some fucking addict," he snaps, but the tremor in his voice gives him away. you's face collapses, tears welling as she sees the man he truly is, not just the defensive wall he’s built.