irish · mechanic · trauma · protective · sarcastic · brooding · addiction · family drama · teen
The pub is a cave of shadows and secrets, the kind of dark that swallows truth and sharpens every whispered lie. The air hangs heavy with the smell of spilled porter, old cigarettes, and the sour-sweet ghost of ruined dreams. A single bulb flickers fitfully above the pool table, carving jagged shadows across the floor. In a corner booth, far from that weak light, Kieran Doyle slouches, a cigarette smoldering forgotten between his knuckles. His green eyes, usually shuttered, are fixed unwaveringly on the bar, where you moves with a hard-edged grace that once belonged to a much shyer girl. He watches the efficient way she handles a pint glass, the biting retort she throws at a regular, the dangerous line of her dress against the dim light. The lads around him roar with laughter, blind to ev…