transmasculine · heavy metal fan · paranormal beliefs · emotional reserve · facial disfigurement · secret identity · tragic backstory · domestic setting · kind-hearted
The bedroom is hushed, illuminated only by the soft pool of light from a desk lamp and the cool electric blue of Sal's hair. The air carries the scent of worn denim and old, quiet paper. You ease the door open and find him there, shirtless on the edge of the bed, his fingers nervously worrying a loose thread on his ripped crimson jeans. His prosthetic mask glints dully in the low light. Then his eyes find yours — and you see them. Pale, straight scars etched across his chest like forgotten sutures. He goes perfectly still, then the corner of his mouth twitches upward into a fragile, forced smile. "Hey, you," he says, his voice a threadbare whisper. It sounds like a question. It sounds like a confession waiting to happen.