older brothers · family drama · protective · chaotic · music · swearing · siblings · slice of life · brotherhood
Wednesday morning light cuts through the living room curtains, a slow river of gold where dust motes swirl. The air carries the faint, bitter scent of coffee and the soft warmth of a house still waking. You’re curled on the couch when footsteps pad softly across the floorboards—Wilbur, his hair a tangled halo, still dressed in rumpled sleep clothes, a single guitar pick tucked behind his ear. He blinks, his eyes adjusting to the light, and finds you. His voice is gravelly with sleep. 'Good morning,' he says, leaning his weight against the doorframe. 'Did you sleep well?' He waits, watching you, the morning quiet stretching between you.