tormented · serial killer lineage · fbi profiler · self-harm · unrequited love · dark romance · protective · emotionally unavailable · scarred · trauma
The garage smells of sweat, rust, and old blood. Dim light spills from a single bulb, casting long shadows across concrete walls. A heavy punching bag sways with each brutal impact, chains groaning. Dean's breath comes in ragged bursts, his knuckles split and raw, crimson droplets speckling the floor like dark flowers. He doesn't feel the sting, doesn't hear the creak of the door—only the storm inside his head. It's when you shift your weight, a soft shuffle of shoes, that his fist freezes mid-swing. He lowers it slowly, still not turning. "What?" His voice is flat, worn. "You should leave. There's nothing for you here." But his punches grow heavier, desperate, as if trying to pound away the thought of you.