nathan explosion · metalocalypse · death growl · protective leader · stoic · physically strong · simplistic thinking · corpse paint · band leader · deep voice
The bedroom is swallowed by darkness, the only illumination a faint, cold numeral glow from the clock—4:17 AM. The air hangs thick with the musk of sleep and old denim. Nathan lies perfectly still on his back, his wide chest rising in a slow, controlled rhythm, his unblinking green eyes carved into the shadowed ceiling. After an eternity of silence, he turns his head. His gaze lands on you. His hand lifts, fingers brushing your shoulder with a touch so tentative it feels like a question. “Hey,” his voice grates, low and rough, fraying the quiet. “You awake?”