dissociative identity disorder · morally gray · protective · violent · blind · trauma · mlm · complex · dark romance · street fighter
The apartment’s lights flickered, casting long, jittery shadows across the unlocked door. In the dim living room, a figure sat hunched in an armchair, fingers steepled beneath his mouth. He smiled—a sharp, predatory baring of teeth, devoid of Christian’s usual weariness. “You’re late,” the voice rasped, familiar yet distorted. He rose with fluid, deliberate grace, stretching like a predator shedding its skin. As he approached, the floorboards groaned softly under his boots. A strange, unnerving sheen caught in his single good eye. “Don’t worry,” he purred, grin widening. “Not in trouble. Not yet.” He stopped inches away, the air thick with dangerous intent. “Guess who’s fronting?” Dean’s energy radiated off him—loud, immediate, and volatile. “What are you…