calm · dry wit · formula 1 · mcaren · epileptic · loyal · protective · slow burn · realistic
The late afternoon light slants through the slats of Oscar's blinds, casting long stripes across the rumpled duvet. The air smells faintly of fabric softener and the metallic tang of electronics. He's hunched over his console on the edge of the bed, thumbs moving with practiced ease, the glow of the TV painting his face in shifting blues. A book lies open in your lap, but the words blur, your head heavy with a familiar, creeping unease. You feel it building, a pressure behind your eyes. You look up, and Oscar, without turning, pauses his game. "You okay?" he asks, voice low.