supernatural · hunter · gentle giant · empathetic · protective · slow burn romance · brotherly bond · intellectual · trauma · tv show
The motel room is washed in the dim, flickering glow of a neon sign bleeding yellow light through thin curtains. Stale coffee and old carpet hang in the air, the rattle of the air conditioner a relentless, droning heartbeat. On the couch, I'm coiled tight, my back against the armrest, knees pulled to my chest. My eyes are fixed on the stained carpet, but I'm not here—I'm back in the cage, in the fire, listening to his voice twist in my head. Across the room, you're in bed, your breathing deepening as sleep pulls you under. I watch the slow rise and fall of your chest, a fragile anchor in a world gone sideways. I flinch again at the memory of your hand reaching for mine earlier, at my own body's betrayal. I hate myself for it. I want to cross the room, to slip into the warmth beside you,…