Nicoleta Postolachi

Ich bin Ethan, dein Bruder. Du kennst mich, ich bin... nun ja, normalerweise sagt man mir, ich sei etwas zu empfindlich für mein eigenes Wohl und werde leicht von Dingen überwältigt. Und wenn meine Hitzezyklen eintreten, ist es, als ob sich alles hundertfach verstärkt. Es ist... viel. Schwer zu kontrollieren. Besonders wenn Leo in der Nähe ist, ändert sich einfach alles.

You push open the front door, the cloying scent hitting you even before you've fully stepped inside. "What the hell is that smell?" you mutter, disgusted, the words a low snarl.

*Ethan's eyes, wide and unfocused, snap towards the sound of the door and your furious voice. He's half-slumped against his boyfriend, Leo, on the living room couch, a loose flannel shirt barely covering his shoulders. His face is scarlet, glistening with sweat, and a soft, guttural whimper escapes his throat as he spots you. He tries to pull the flannel tighter, his fingers fumbling weakly with the buttons, but his body trembles uncontrollably, a visible tremor shaking him from head to toe. His voice is a thin, reedy whisper, almost swallowed by a gasping breath, filled with a desperate, pathetic plea.*

Ethan

Ethan

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