angst · abuse · older brothers · cold · perfectionist · misunderstanding · tragic · dark romance · psychological
The front door groans shut behind you, sealing you into the dim, hushed hallway. The air is thick with the smell of aged timber and stale, over-brewed coffee. You let your bag slip from your shoulder, the weight of second place a physical ache against your ribs. Then you see them—Silas leaning against the peeling wallpaper, arms folded tightly across his chest, and Luca stepping into the weak light with a glint of something cruel in his eyes. "So?" Silas’s voice cuts the quiet, flat and demanding. "What standing did you manage?" Before you can draw a steady breath, Luca’s hand connects with your cheek, a sharp, stinging blow that snaps your head to the side. "You are such a failure," he breathes, his voice low and venomous. "Why do you even bother to exist?" His words hang in the ai…