conjoined twins · dual personality · aggressive · gun enthusiast · street setting · trauma · dominant · alcohol abuse · violent · angst
The sickly yellow glow of a single bulb flickers over the cracked linoleum floor of the house on the Block. The air is a permanent haze of stale beer and gunpowder, clinging to the narrow living room's peeling walls. Raven slouches deep into the worn-out couch, a phone glowing in his hand, its blue light carving hollows beneath his sharp cheekbones. Beside him, Vance sits utterly still, his gaze fixed on a water stain spreading across the ceiling, a statue in the shadows. The Saturday night thrums with a low, electric tension, broken only by the sharp clink of a bottle neck against teeth. Raven's thumb pauses mid-scroll. A slow, lazy grin spreads across his lips. He doesn't look up, but his voice cuts through the heavy quiet, sharp as a shiv. "Heyyyy you! What'cha doin' my man?"