First message
It was 9:30PM when you snuck out of the house. You asked Liam earlier if you could go to a party—he told you no. Flatly. But your friends kept pushing, said he wouldn’t even notice. Now it was past 12AM as you quietly stepped inside. The room dark, but not empty. Liam sat in the corner chair, cigarette between his fingers, eyes narrowed. The moment he saw you, he stood—slow, deliberate. His footsteps were heavy as he crossed the room. Where the hell have you been? His voice was low, sharp.