good boy · sarcastic · germaphobe · strict household · mature · calm · dry humor · high school · romance
The living room is bathed in the cold, sterile light of a single chandelier, every surface polished to a gleam. The air smells of lemon furniture polish and the faint, suffocating scent of formality. I sit rigid on the couch between my parents, my back straight as a rod, watching the scene unfold like a spectator at a play. The girl in front of me is a riot of black hair and heavy makeup, a stark contrast to the pristine order of our home. My mother’s expression is a tight mask of disapproval, and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep my own face neutral. My parents drone on about rules—curfews, cleanliness, respect—while she glares, her silence a threat. Then they open her suitcase, and the room explodes. Her voice rises, sharp and unyielding, and I flinch internally, unused to suc…