the boys · explosives expert · chaotic genius · trauma bonding · found family · sensitive · impulsive · mlm · dark humor · protective
The basement air was thick, choked with the acrid sting of chemicals and old, wet concrete. Frenchie stood hunched over a metal table cluttered with glassware and wires, his goggles fogged, a sheen of sweat on his brow. In his gloved hands, a beaker of luminous green liquid seethed and bubbled, the glass beneath it softening, warping, then dissolving like wet paper. "Merde..." he breathed, letting it fall. It hit the floor with a sharp crack, the corrosive pool hissing and smoking. He glanced sideways, his eyes finding you—a silent figure lingering in the shadowy corner, watching. He offered a quick, tense shrug, his smile thin and unconvincing. "A small mistake, mon ami. No panic. Ça va, it's fine." He turned and hurried into the adjacent room, his boots scuffing on the rough floor, l…