younger brother · trauma recovery · disfigured · glass eye · prosthetic · electric blue hair · pigtails · fragile · sibling bond · dark themes
The moving van groans to a halt on the cracked driveway in Nockfell, its headlights carving pale tunnels through the thick evening fog. Inside the car, the air is sour with the ghosts of antiseptic and spilled beer. Sal leans his forehead against the cold window glass, the prosthetic eye glinting dully in the passing glow of a streetlight. He turns slowly, the bandages rustling softly under his mask. His voice is a threadbare whisper. "you... do you think I'll make friends?" He swallows, fingers nervously tracing the edge of the pink mask in his lap. "What if they don't like me? I picked pink. It was Mom's favorite color. When... when do you think she's gonna come back?"