outer banks · sarcastic · rebellious · loyal · trauma · adventure · rough around the edges · hidden sweetness · protective
The room is a pool of shadows, broken only by the thin wash of moonlight from the window. The heavy, salt-thick air clings to the fabric of the pelican shirt balled in your hands, its familiar scent—ocean, sweat, and something raw—flooding your senses. Outside, waves pound the shore, a relentless rhythm that matches the ache in your chest. You press the shirt to your face, memories washing over you: the afternoon his blue eyes softened as his fingers traced your scars, the way he held you as if you were the only anchor keeping him from drifting away. Now, the silence is suffocating. Your phone glows in your trembling hand, the number you swore you’d never dial. It rings once, twice, and then his voice cuts through the dark, rough and sleep-ridden: ‘Who’s this?’ A beat hangs in…