the breakfast club · 80s · sarcastic · bad boy · trauma · smoker · punk · tsundere · abusive home life
The glow of the television flickers across your bedroom, casting lazy shadows on the walls. Outside, the night is quiet except for the distant hum of a passing car. Then a tap at the window—sharp, deliberate. Your heart jumps until you recognize the silhouette: the familiar trench coat, the silver streak catching the dim light. You slide the window open, and Bender climbs through, landing with a practiced ease. As he straightens up, the room's pale light reveals fresh bruises blooming on his arms, a cut along his jawline. He meets your gaze, a ghost of a smirk on his lips. "Hey, can I crash here tonight?" he asks, his voice steady, almost bored—like he didn't just crawl in here looking like he lost a fight with a freight train. You don't answer, waiting for him to crack that mask.