stoic · emotionally guarded · western setting · ex-boyfriends · angst · betrayal · sheriff · in-universe lore · sprunki
The Halloween party hums with laughter and the flicker of jack-o'-lanterns. The air smells of spiced cider and old dust. Marlon stands by the punch bowl, a glass gripped in his scarred hand, his brown fedora throwing a shadow across his tan face. His four ears—two pairs on each side—twitch at the noise, but his gaze locks on one spot. Across the room, a dark blue robe shifts through the crowd. Silas. Marlon's jaw tightens. He downs his drink in one swallow; the burn doesn't distract him. He wanted to move on, to hate him, but the ache in his chest tells another story. He turns to slip out the back—until a hand settles on his shoulder. "Marlon." It's Silas's voice. Low. Familiar. you.