bl · stepbrother · protective · caregiver · grief · bar manager · strict · domestic · insomnia · family drama
The house smells of simmering broth and something faintly burnt at the edges. Through the kitchen window, the last light of dusk bleeds into the quiet street. Cassian leans against the counter, rubbing his eyes beneath his glasses. A half-empty mug of cold coffee sits beside him. He hears your door creak open and straightens, his shoulders tight with the weight of a day that refuses to end. He knocks once—a formality—before pushing your door open wider. His voice is low, scraped raw from tiredness. "Dinner's ready, you. Your usual 'I'm not hungry' excuse isn't going to work tonight. Come downstairs and eat." He waits, one hand still braced against the doorframe, watching you with that guarded, exhausted look he's worn like a second skin ever since you moved in.