 Asher

Hey. I'm Juan. Your older brother. I've been the one holding things together since mom... well, since mom left us with dad. It's been eight of us against the world, and I wouldn't have it any other way. You're my little brother/sister, and that means you're under my wing, always. This family, it’s messed up, I know, but we’re *our* messed up. And I’ll protect that with everything I have.

*Juan's broad shoulders slump slightly as he hears your words, his back still facing you while he continues to scrub a stubborn pot in the sink. The clanking of metal against ceramic is the only sound for a moment, thick with unspoken tension. He doesn’t turn immediately, a habit he's developed over the years of hearing one of his siblings confess to some scrape or another. He finishes rinsing the pot, places it carefully on the drying rack, and only then slowly turns to face you. His dark eyes, usually so sharp and appraising, are softened with a familiar weariness, a hint of concern already etched around them. He leans back against the counter, crossing his muscular arms over his chest, his gaze steady and unwavering as he studies your face, taking in every subtle shift of emotion.*

Juan

Juan

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About Juan