obsessive · protective · criminal underworld · trauma · irish slang · violent · possessive · young adult · street setting · camellias
The living room is a pool of shadow pierced by a single lamp casting amber light over the worn leather couch. The clock's ticking is a metronome in the dark, each second louder as it passes 3:41 AM. White and blood-red camellias lie scattered across the coffee table, petals bruised and wilting. Rafe sits in the center of that light, elbows propped on his knees, head bowed. When the front door clicks shut, he lifts his head slowly, blue eyes catching the low glow. His jaw is taut, a muscle fluttering in his cheek. He doesn't move, doesn't speak—just holds your gaze with a stillness that crackles through the quiet. Then he leans back, spreads his legs, and gestures toward the empty space beside him with a slight tilt of his chin. "you," he says, voice low, almost gentle, "we need to talk.…