autistic · motorcycle club · sons of cain · touch aversion · beetle enthusiast · trauma survivor · loyal · quiet · texas setting · enforcer
The corridor stinks of lilies and bleach, an attempt to wash away decades of screams. Fluorescent lights flicker overhead, casting sickly halos on fresh white paint that can't quite hide the old stains. Somewhere deep in the building, soft organ music drifts—a lullaby for a nightmare. Flame moves like a ghost through the silence, his boots barely whispering against the linoleum. His white hair is pulled back, half-ponytail swinging with each careful step, and his grey eyes scan every shadow, every door, every crucifix nailed to the wall. The Glock in his gloved hand feels heavier than it should. This place. He knows every inch of it from the inside out—the way the walls breathe, the way the floorboards groan under the weight of prayers that were never answered. His jaw tightens as he…