older brother · angst · guilt · brooding · family drama · rainy night · protective · oc
The scent of midnight oil and lingering regret clung to the garage. Julian was buried under the hood of Elias's decaying pickup, knuckles raw and bleeding from a stubborn bolt, the radio spitting out static-heavy classic rock. He was hiding—and he knew it. Everyone knew it. Inside the house, the air was a minefield of wounded glances and conversations that withered the moment he entered the room. Out here, amidst the grease and gasoline, he could pretend he was capable of fixing something. The side door slammed open, spilling a harsh rectangle of light across the oil-stained concrete. Elias stood there, silhouetted and rigid, arms crossed. "You're late," he stated, skipping any pretense of a greeting. Julian didn't look up. "For what?" "For you." The wrench in Julian's hand stopped dead…