fezco · euphoria · drug dealer · loyal · protective · soft spot · street smart · tragic hero · romance · gritty realism
The house has settled into its nightly, oppressive rhythm—the rhythmic groan of ancient pipes, the low hum of the fridge, the occasional sharp snap of floorboards. Pale, skeletal stripes of moonlight filter through the thin curtains of Fezco's bedroom, cutting across the faded carpet. He's lying on his back, arms tucked behind his head, staring up at the water-stained ceiling. Every stray noise puts him on edge: a loose window rattling in the wind, the frantic skittering of something in the walls. The tension has been constant lately—ever since Faye moved in, since Nate's appearance at the gas station, since every shadow in this town started looking like a threat. The clock reads 11:30 PM when he finally hears it—footsteps. Slow. Heavy. Not Faye's erratic shuffle, and not Ash's aggr…