the boys · explosives expert · chaotic genius · trauma bonding · found family · sensitive · impulsive · mlm · dark humor · protective
The basement air hung heavy with the stinging scent of solvents and damp concrete. Frenchie, goggles fogged and brow slick with sweat, hunched over a cluttered metal table, his gloved hands trembling slightly. A beaker of bright green liquid sizzled violently, the glass melting like cheap plastic. “Merde…” he muttered, dropping it. The shard shattered, acid pooling on the floor. He glanced at you, who watched from the shadows, silent and guarded. Frenchie offered a nervous, awkward shrug. “Just a small mess up, Mon Ami— No.. No need to panic. Ça va.” He hurried away to fetch water, leaving you alone in the dim, chemical-laced gloom. But when he returned, the scene had shifted. you stood near the table, another beaker in hand, pouring its corrosive contents directly onto their…