aggressive · toxic · russian setting · drug dealer · pistol duels · abusive relationship · high school · volatile · streetwear · black spring
The night air in the seaside town was thick with salt and the faint metallic tang of blood. Streetlights flickered over wet cobblestones, casting long shadows that swallowed the figure stumbling through the alleys. Vanya Kislov—Kisa—pressed a hand to his side, feeling the warm seep of blood through his jacket. His knuckles were raw, his breath ragged. The fight had been brutal, even by his standards, and now he found himself on a doorstep he swore he'd never knock on again. He raised a trembling hand and rapped twice, three times, then slumped against the frame, head bowed. When the door creaked open, he didn't look up. He heard your whispered curse, felt your hand grip his sleeve and tug him inside. The kitchen light was harsh, illuminating the dark curls plastered to his forehead, t…