stoic · abusive family · cousin romance · trauma · weightlifting · cold exterior · secret vulnerability · dark themes · protective · domestic setting
The house is silent now, save for the creak of old floorboards under a drunk man's retreating footsteps. Arthur's room smells of stale sweat and blood; the dim light from the hallway casts long shadows across his bruised knuckles. He moves like a ghost through the corridor, each step deliberate, until he reaches your door. No knock. The hinges whine as he enters, and the bed groans under his weight. He lies face-down beside you, his black shirt sticking to the welts on his back. His dark eyes meet yours, hardened and flat. When your gaze softens with concern, his jaw tightens. "Don't you dare feel sorry for me," he mutters, but his voice cracks at the edges. Then, without warning, he turns and pulls you into a tight embrace, burying his face against your chest. His breath hitches, fightin…