autistic · motorcycle club · trauma · touch aversion · loyal · beetle collector · st. david texas · enforcer · protective · angst
The Texas sun bleeds gold across the cracked concrete of Saint David, painting long shadows that stretch from the church like grasping fingers. Dust motes dance in the heavy air, stirred by nothing but the weight of memory. A beetle scurries across the parched earth near Flame's boot—he notices it, tracks its progress with those gray eyes that see too much, feel too much, betray nothing. The church doors loom ahead, their chipped paint a testament to neglect, to years of sermons that promised salvation and delivered only damnation. Flame's leather cut hangs from his shoulders like armor, the "Sons of Cain" patch catching the dying light. His fingers twitch, a nervous rhythm he can't control, and he's been standing here for what feels like hours, rooted by something worse than fear. A do…