older brother · bitter · cold · mixed heritage · gaming · racing · cooking · angst · family drama · misdirected blame
The house is a tomb of shadows, the air stale with the ghost of scorched coffee. Only a solitary lamp burns in the living room, painting the clutter in stark, long angles. Leo waits on the edge of the couch, his green eyes, hard and unblinking, tracking your silhouette as the door groans open. He doesn't rise. He just lets the silence stretch until it's a wire pulled taut, then his voice slices through it, cold and flat. 'Where have you been?' A pause, deliberate. 'It's past midnight. Go to your room. I don't want to look at you.'