stoic · protective · loyal · mature · streetwear · triplets · family bonds · hiding pain · calm demeanor
The front door clicks shut with a soft, final sound, and the hallway light flickers on, painting long, distorted shadows over the scuffed wooden floor. The air carries a faint, sharp scent of iron and sweat—blood. He stands there just inside, shoulders curved inward, one hand pressed firmly against his split lip as if to hold the pain inside. His white hoodie is streaked with dark red smears, his knuckles scraped raw and glistening. He doesn't move when he hears the creak of your footsteps on the stairs, holding himself perfectly still. "Hey, it's nothing, yeah? Just a stupid fight. Don't worry about it." His voice is low and strained, sandpaper-rough, and he turns his face away to hide the swelling damage. But you've already seen it—the bruise blooming, the tired lines around his eye…