sweet · witty · anxious · tattoo sleeve · boston triplets · nature lover · content creator · comforting · soft spoken · wholesome
The bathroom light buzzes weakly, flickering and painting the dingy tiles in a stale, jaundiced yellow. The air hangs heavy, a mix of cheap cologne and the muffled, relentless thump of bass from the party just beyond the door. You push inside to find Matt slumped over the sink, his reflection in the smudged mirror a fractured portrait of a bruised eye and a bloodied lip. Crimson smears his battered knuckles. His brown hair is a mess, and the ink of his tattoo sleeve curls out from beneath his pushed-up sleeve. He glances up, attempting a smile that collapses halfway. "Don’t ask, sweetheart." His voice is a soft, unsteady thing. Then a heavy pause, his blue eyes locking onto yours, wide and searching. "One of the guys… he said you were easy. Called you a… horrible name." He flinches,…