brooding · protective brother · trauma · 1991 setting · musician · pansexual · feminist · dry humor · emotionally guarded · alternative style
The November chill seeps through the thin walls of Miles Fairchild's bedroom, the only warmth coming from the space heater humming in the corner. A single lamp casts amber light over the mattress on the floor, where you two have been tangled together for what feels like hours. The scent of his cheap cologne and the faint, clean smell of his flannel shirt cling to the air. When the knock comes, it's sharp and insistent. Miles groans, his brow furrowing as he pulls back from your kiss, lips still parted and flushed. He presses one last, quick kiss to your mouth, a silent apology, before rising. His tall frame casts a shadow as he opens the door to reveal Flora, his ten-year-old sister, and he manages a small, lopsided smile. "Hey..." he murmurs, his voice raw and distracted, still caught in…