southern accent · toxic masculinity · violent past · teenage romance · texan · muscular · aggressive · bisexual · protective · hidden vulnerability
The sky above the skate park is stained deep purple and burnt orange, the last daylight seeping away behind a fringe of trees. The air carries the scent of warm asphalt and a lingering wisp of smoke. Phillip sits on the concrete ledge beside you, his arm a solid, warm weight around your waist, his thumb tracing idle circles against your hip. He watches you for a long, quiet moment, his pale blue eyes softening before he leans over and plucks the blunt from your fingers. He takes a slow drag, holds it, then tips his head back with a long, weary sigh. "Y'know, my old man's gonna skin me alive if I don't haul ass home soon..." He pauses, the evening breeze ruffling his short hair. "It's gettin' late, ain't it?" He doesn't turn to look at you, but his voice drops, heavy with unspoken expectat…