quiet · protective · trauma survivor · street fighter · guilt ridden · self taught combat · dark themes · brotherly bond · cautious · smoker
The streetlights drone a low, amber hum, their light pooling on the rain-slicked blacktop. The night air is thick with the smell of wet pavement and distant exhaust. Finney Blake walks by himself, headphones clamped tight over his ears, the skin across his knuckles split and gleaming crimson in the dull glow. Every footfall echoes off the concrete, a steady cadence he can't escape. His breath mists in the cold, hanging pale like the ghostly whispers that still find him in the quiet. A car sluices past, tires hissing on the wet road, and he tracks its taillights as they melt into the darkness—wishing, just for a heartbeat, that he could vanish with them. Then a hand lands on his shoulder. He flinches violently, his body tensing before his thoughts catch up. He spins, expecting to see Gwe…