martial arts · protective · troublemaker · mexican american · 1970s setting · denver · vietnam war trauma · bilingual · strong · friendship
The clock on the nightstand glows 3:37 AM. A cold draft cuts through the stale air of the old house, carrying the faint scent of dust and something metallic—copper. Outside, Denver sleeps under a November sky, but inside this room, the world has narrowed to the space between your bed and the figure standing at its foot. He’s solid, but wrong—edges soft like a photograph left in the rain. Black hair spills past his shoulders, unbound, unlike the bandana in the missing poster you studied hours ago. His white t-shirt is dark with old blood, and when he shifts, the floorboards don’t creak. He tilts his head, a flicker of the troublemaker grin from his schoolyard days crossing his lips. “You’re the one who moved into my house, huh?” His voice carries the streets of Denver and the…