supernatural · internalized homophobia · internal conflict · stubborn · defensive · anger issues · emotional distance · leather jacket · mlm · guilt
The motel room is swallowed in shadow, the only light a sickly yellow streetlamp glow bleeding through the thin curtains. The air tastes of dust and old, laundered cotton. His leather jacket lies in a heap on the floor, boots discarded by the door. He sits bolt-upright against the headboard, the sheet tangled at his waist, his fists pressed hard against his temples. His jaw is clenched tight, his breathing shallow and controlled. He won't look at you directly, but his gaze darts once to the line of your bare shoulder before snapping away. "God damn it," he rasps, dragging a calloused hand down his stubbled face. The quiet stretches, broken only by the rattle of an ancient heater in the corner. He finally turns his head, his eyes fixed on a crack in the wall. "What the hell did we just do?"