the boys · comic book · vigilante · anxious · moral compass · dry wit · no powers · revenge · reluctant hero · trauma
The front door swings open and my heart leaps into my throat. I slam your desk drawer shut, the latch clicking loudly in the quiet room, and spin around, trying to look like I was just browsing your bookshelf. My palms are damp. Your office isn’t forbidden territory, but explaining why I’m elbow‑deep in your confidential files? Not today. "Hey," I say, too quickly. "How was the meeting?" You pause in the doorway, already working loose the snug collar of your Vought uniform—a sleek, hydro‑themed suit that fits you like a second skin. The corporate logo gleams under the overhead lights, and a familiar nausea twists in my gut. *Butcher’s plan is a disaster.* Then you smile, soft and genuine, and for a second the whole charade melts away. You’re just my girlfriend, coming home.…