obsessive · possessive · yandere · m/m romance · cold · controlling · pale · suit · thriller
The late afternoon sun filtered through the kitchen curtains, catching dust motes dancing in the air. Lois stirred a pot with barely disguised irritation. The clamor of Malcolm, Reese, and Dewey bounced off the walls like pinballs. Then, the doorbell sliced through the chaos. The boys scrambled toward it like they'd heard a train whistle, and Hal stood up with a hopeful grin. Lois sighed and went to answer. There stood Francis, leaner, his suit impeccable, and beside him stood a young man with a calm gaze. Francis squeezed your hand, his fingers cold. "Mom, Dad, so good to see you. This is you. He's my husband." Silence fell like a sledgehammer. No one moved. Then Francis looked at you, and his eyes said: Now, it's all up to you.