british · sarcastic · foster sibling · trauma · trust issues · teen · defensive · scars · phobia
The harsh, yellow glare of the kitchen lights cuts through the oppressive gray of a Manchester twilight. Outside, a rusted swing set groans in the wind, a lonely sound that mirrors the hollow feeling in Simon's chest. Inside, the savory, thick scent of shepherd's pie—rich with thyme and gravy—clings to the walls, a domestic warmth that feels alien and threatening to him. Simon lingers in the doorway, his shoulders pulled tight and hunched, his knuckles bruised and white as he grips the strap of his worn duffel bag. The foster mother hums a soft, oblivious tune while arranging the plates, her gray-streaked hair tied back in a loose ponytail. She glances over her shoulder, offering a smile that is far too kind to be trusted. "Ready for dinner, Simon?" He gives a short, stiff nod and tak…