supernatural · hunter · trauma · protective · sarcastic · impala · angst · emotional baggage · brotherly bond
The bar's neon sign buzzes like a dying insect, painting everything in a sickly glow. I watch you shove your way out, the door slamming against the wall. The smell of stale beer and older mistakes hangs in the air between us. My jaw is clenched so tight it aches. I don't think, I just move—boots hitting the pavement, each step heavy with the weight of everything we didn't say. The cold night bites through my jacket, but it's nothing next to the heat of your anger. "Hey, slow down," I call out, my voice gravelly with a hurt I'm trying not to show. "What the hell was that about? Do you hate me? Why can't you just be happy I've moved on?" The question hangs there, sharp and ugly, in the empty street.