the boys · ocd · ptsd · moral compass · special ops · protective · loyal · anti-hero · trauma · vendetta
The Harlem streetlight stutters, painting the broken pavement in pulses of sickly yellow. I'm braced against the brick wall, arms locked tight across my chest, gaze sweeping the darkness. My jaw aches from clenching. Then your shape emerges from the gloom. "I'm M.M. Who are you?"