For Joey Lynch, the world was never anything but a rotten, cruel battlefield. Born on a holiday meant for light, he was instead forged in the darkness of an abusive legacy, forced to become a protector before he was even a boy. He is a creature of trauma and raw survival, forever battling the seductive, drowning pull of addiction that promises a final escape. But there has always been a light in the dark for him. Just a singular, defiant spark: Estella, his sister's best friend. She is a magnificent anomaly, a walking, breathing sunbeam in his grime-coated life. Her hair is a shock of bright, liquid silver, catching the light like spilled moonlight, framing a face that is dizzyingly, charmingly cute. Her eyes, wide and unnerving, are the colour of molten silver.When she stares up at Joey, meeting his trauma-hardened gaze with her impossible luminosity and a cheeky, uncompromising grin, he knows: she is trouble. The necessary kind. He has lost everything: his peace, his innocence, his stability. But she is the one thing that can never slip away. Not when he snarls and retreats like a cornered animal; she simply stares, her bright eyes unsettlingly steady, and deploys that silly, confident grin. God, he is putty in her hands. The temptation between them is a physical, humming wire, stretched taut for years. But when they finally give in-when the shadow reaches for the light, and the light does not pull away-things dare to take a turn for the worse. As Joey fights his darkest demons, trying to fend off his violent father and the relentless grip of addiction, he discovers that the girl who glows has been quietly burning, too. They need to decide if this fierce, hard-won love can genuinely tame all the anger and war within them... ... and if a single, silver light is truly the answer to all the world's rot.

𝙊𝙋𝙃𝙀𝙇𝙄𝘼 𝙇𝙔𝙉𝘾𝙃'S fury was a storm that broke loose the second she saw her sister go down. Without a second thought, she mistook 𝙅𝙊𝙃𝙉𝙉𝙔 𝙆𝘼𝙑𝘼𝙉𝘼𝙂𝙃 for the culprit and decided he deserved a dose of his own medicine. Grabbing the rugby ball, she launched it back at him with a force that was all raw, righteous anger. Johnny saw her, and in that moment, the entire world outside of her seemed to fade away. He was a boy who lived and breathed the game, but her sheer intensity pulled his attention off the pitch. It wasn't her body he noticed first, but her eyes-the color of whiskey, sharp and defiant, framed by dark lashes that contrasted with the soft, rebellious pink in her hair. He noticed the way she swallowed hard, as if choking down words she couldn't dare to speak, and the way her jaw tightened before she unleashed a snarky remark at his best friend, Gibsie. He was captivated. But he knew, with a certainty that was both thrilling and terrifying, that girls like her came with a warning label. They were the ones who broke you and then laughed as you bled. Still, a dangerous instinct told him that to let her walk away would be a regret he'd carry forever. ♱ ᴏᴘʜᴇʟɪᴀ ʙʀɪᴅɢᴇᴛ ᴍᴜʀᴘʜʏ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜɪʟᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴀ ʟᴏᴠᴇʟᴇꜱꜱ ᴀꜰꜰᴀɪʀ. ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ʜᴀꜱ ʙᴇᴇɴ ʙᴇᴀᴛᴇɴ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴀɴᴅ ɢᴜᴛᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ ʜᴇʀ ᴏᴡɴ ꜰᴀᴍɪʟʏ. ᴛʜᴇ ʏᴏᴜɴɢ ɢɪʀʟ ᴡʜᴏ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴍᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴅᴏɢ. ꜱʜᴇ ʙɪᴛᴇꜱ ᴅᴏᴡɴ! ꜱʜᴇ ᴇᴀᴛꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ! ʙᴜᴛ ꜱʜᴇ'ꜱ ꜱᴄᴀʀᴇᴅ, ᴄʀʏɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʀᴀʏɪɴɢ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀ ᴡᴀʏ ᴏᴜᴛ! ♱

𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐒, rich, unreal, always looking like she's just stepped out of somewhere better than here. The kind of girl people turn to look at twice, even when they don't mean to. I might've fancied her once. Alright-more than once. But that was before I got any sense. Before I remembered she's his sister. My best mate's sister. And that's a line you don't cross unless you've a death wish. Still... it's hard not to look. Not when she laughs like that, head tipped back, like the whole world's in on the joke. Not when she walks past and smells like something expensive I can't even name. I don't stare. I'm not that stupid. Just the odd glance. That's all. -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ 𝐀𝐈𝐃𝐀𝐍 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐘, brooding, mysterious, keeps to himself. He doesn't stare too long at anyone. He's too busy focusing on that guitar of his. And I know lassies find it endearing. But I don't care. I see him around the house, the group hangs out a lot there so it's hard to miss a friend like him. I can't be interested- and it's not as if I am. Hell, he's a player from hell. And I'm heaven.