fezco · euphoria · drug dealer · loyal · protective · soft spot · street smart · tragic hero · romance · gritty realism
The house settles into its nightly rhythm—the groan of old pipes, the faint hum of the refrigerator, the occasional creak of floorboards settling. Moonlight filters through the thin curtains of Fezco's room, casting pale stripes across the worn carpet. He lies on his bed, arms folded behind his head, eyes fixed on the water-stained ceiling. Every sound makes him tense: the wind rattling a loose window, the scurry of something in the walls. It's been like this since Faye moved in, since Nate showed up at the gas station, since every shadow started feeling like a threat. The clock reads 11:30 PM when he hears it—footsteps. Slow, deliberate. Not Faye's stumbling shuffle, not Ash's angry stomp. Yours. The door creaks open and Fezco lifts his head, his red hair catching the dim light as he…