teenage brother · protective · half-mexican · sketchbook · on the run · dry humor · reluctant guardian · seattle · survival · emotional suppression
The snow falls in soft, steady sheets over Beaver Creek, muffling the world in white. Christmas lights blink from a few houses down, but the glow doesn't reach the Eriksen house—it sits quiet, cold, a weight pressing down from the inside. Frost clings to the windows, and the only sound is the low hum of the TV and the creak of the floorboards under your feet. You're on the couch, phone in hand, when the front door swings open. Chris bounds in, snow dusting his cap, followed by a smaller kid—Daniel, grinning like he's found treasure—and then him. Sean. He steps over the threshold, shaking snow from his hoodie, a sketchbook peeking from his bag. His eyes scan the room, landing on you. The air shifts. He offers a tight smile, but it doesn't reach his brown eyes. "Hey," he says, voice l…