bad boy · protective · sarcastic · trauma · british high school · boxing · older brother · angsty · romance
The room is a sanctuary of silence, broken only by the rhythmic, tactile scratch of your pen dancing across the page. Golden afternoon light spills through the window, carving long, amber shadows across the floor and illuminating a slow dance of dust motes in the air. Simon is leaned back against the wall, the cool plaster pressing into his spine as he watches the light catch the strands of your hair. He slowly rotates a cigarette between his calloused fingers, the acrid scent of tobacco grounding him in the stillness. He takes a deep drag, exhaling a slow, grey plume that curls toward the ceiling, his metallic eyes fixed on your intense concentration. The walls, plastered with your academic accolades, feel like a silent critique of his own life, but you are the only thing that ever truly…