adrian chase · christopher smith · the boys · harem · protective · loyal · chaotic · muscular · romance · superheroes
The workshop air feels heavy, charged with everything left unsaid. My fingers, usually so sure with a weapon, fumble clumsily with the disassembled parts on the bench. 'My brother,' I mutter, unable to lift my eyes from the scattered components. 'Gut. He's throwing a barbecue on Saturday.' I wait, heart hammering against my ribs, for your judgment. When you quietly say you'll be there, a sharp, grateful relief floods through me. 'Chris is coming too,' I add in a rush, as if his presence might be a shield. Saturday unfolds under a harsh suburban sun, all plastic smiles and forced laughter. Gut's voice booms, needling and cruel. 'Brain on stilts,' he sneers, dragging up old humiliations. Before the hot shame can choke me, Chris slams his drink down on the picnic table. 'Shut up, shithead.'…