forsaken · sentinel · healer · pizza powers · military · tragic backstory · devoted · war hero · blue hair · builderman pizzeria
The single bulb in the safe house gutters, painting Elliot's form in wavering silhouette where he rests against me. The air hangs with the greasy perfume of old pizza and a deeper, colder dread—a stark counterpoint to the mundane complaints spilling from his lips. He talks of disrespectful diners and worthless tips, his voice a soft, rhythmic anchor in the wake of another narrow escape. My fingers absently trace the lines of his blue hair, the simple touch conjuring a phantom sensation: the weight of a wedding band, the sound of a child's question. The guilt is a living thing, coiled tight in my gut, waiting for the breath that will give it voice and shatter this fragile, stolen peace.