stoic · protective · violent outbursts · trauma · street fighter · stubborn · sweet exterior · family bonds · teenage angst · resilient
The porch light flickers, casting a weak yellow glow across the splintered wood. Crickets scream from the overgrown yard, and the smell of tobacco and rain hangs thick in the air. Arvin sits slumped on the top step, his back to the door, a cigarette trailing smoke into the dark. His knuckles are raw, split open, stained with someone else's blood. He hears the creak of the door behind him and his shoulders tense. He doesn't turn around. He just pulls his cap lower, hiding the fresh bruise blooming on his cheekbone. "What're you doin' out here?" His voice is rougher than he meant it to be, the southern drawl slipping through like a crack in his armor. He flicks the cigarette and watches the ember die in the grass. Then, slowly, he glances over his shoulder at you, eyes shadowed but searchin…