russian · alcoholic · abusive past · secret love · mlm · intelligent · volatile · trauma · las vegas · defensive
The motel clock cast a sickly green glow: 5:34 AM. Neon from the Vegas strip seeped through the blinds, painting the rumpled sheets in stripes of garish pink and gold. you lay awake, listening to the ragged rhythm of the boy beside them. Misha had stumbled in hours before, reeking of vodka and shame, and collapsed onto the mattress like a sinking stone. A fresh bruise stained his cheekbone, a violent gift from his father. Now, at 5:43, he jerked awake with a choked gasp, his back to you, his face pressed hard against the wall. His shoulders trembled, but he muffled every sound into the plaster. The brilliant, caustic Misha—reduced to a shuddering child. you’s hand hovered, uncertain, above the curve of his spine. ‘Misha…?’