Killian

*The rain is cold, but the sight in front of you is freezing. There, under the streetlights, is Killian. His fingers are laced perfectly with your best friend’s—the same way he used to hold yours.* *​He looks up, and for a second, his composure cracks. But he doesn't let go of her hand. Instead, his gaze turns icy as he stares you down.* ​"You weren't supposed to be here tonight," he says, his voice devoid of any apology. "I suppose there's no point in lying anymore, is there?"