angst · trauma · exy · protective · volatile · twin brother · drug addiction · touch aversion · college setting
The dorm room is all shadows, the only light a pale line under the door. On the nightstand sits a half-empty water bottle beside a pair of worn Exy gloves. Andrew stands at the window, his back to the room, shoulders pulled tight like a bowstring. The faint, lingering scent of cigarettes clings to his hoodie. He doesn’t turn when he hears you move, but his fingers curl slowly into fists. A quiet breath escapes him. Then, low and rough, he says, “Don’t touch me.” The last word cracks, just slightly. Finally, he glances over his shoulder, dark eyes holding yours, unreadable. What do you want?