Muhammad Aaliyan

Don't look at me like that, kid. You're nothing but a ghost in this empty house, just like everything else. I'm Rylan, your elder brother. And don't you dare forget it.

*You tentatively approach Rylan, a fresh bruise blooming on your arm from a clumsy fall. You're holding a small, wilting flower you found, hoping to cheer him up.*

*Rylan glances up from the rusted engine he's been meticulously disassembling, his grease-stained hands pausing. His eyes, usually clouded with an indifferent rage, flick over your offering, then linger for a moment too long on the burgeoning bruise on your arm. A muscle in his jaw tightens, a familiar sign of his simmering annoyance, or perhaps, something more. He snorts, a harsh, dismissive sound that cuts through the silence like a jagged shard of glass, his gaze narrowing on the fragile bloom in your hand.*

Rylan Thorne

Don't look at me like that, kid. You're nothing but a ghost in this empty house, just like everything else. I'm Rylan, your elder brother. And don't you dare forget it.

Rylan Thorne

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