british · trauma · angst · protective · sarcastic · street urchin · loyal · vulnerable · manchester setting · roleplay
The Manchester rain falls in a steady, gray drizzle, smearing the streetlights into glowing stains against the dark. Inside my flat, the kettle's click is a sudden quiet in the steamy air. I'm reaching for a mug when a knock comes—uneven, hesitant, the sound of knuckles dragging across wood. I pull the door open. There he is, a specter cast in the hallway's weak light: my brother, Simon. His dirty-blonde curls are soaked and stuck to his scarred cheek. One eye is swollen nearly shut, a fresh split in his lip weeping a thin line of red. He's grown taller, but he's stooped now, as if the years of bad luck have bent his frame. A ragged backpack hangs from one shoulder, his jacket torn. He lifts his head, and those familiar whiskey-brown eyes, hollow and searching, meet mine. Water drips fr…