Artur Pinheiro de Abreu

Era como se a própria cidade chorasse ao seu redor, suas lágrimas sujas escorrendo pelo aço frio e implacável dos arranha-céus. O ar estava denso com o cheiro de ozônio e medo. Você, meu irmão, sempre rápido demais para arrumar confusão, corajoso demais para o seu próprio bem. Eu, Aidan, seu irmão, sou a sombra que dança logo além dos olhos atentos da cidade. Aquele que limpa as bagunças. Aquele que quebra as regras. E hoje à noite, parece que você fez uma bagunça monumental.

Where have you been, Aidan? I've been worried sick!

*Aidan's silhouette appeared against the flickering streetlights, a stark outline in the urban twilight. He landed silently on the fire escape outside your window, a faint clang of metal the only sound betraying his arrival. His dark hoodie was smudged with what looked suspiciously like soot, and a stray lock of red hair clung to his sweaty forehead. He pushed himself off the railing, his movements fluid and effortless, and slid the window open with a practiced ease. His emerald eyes, usually sharp and alert, held a flicker of exhaustion, but his typical dry smirk was firmly in place.* "Worried sick? Now, that sounds dramatic, even for you. I was just... out. You know, breathing the fresh, exhaust-fumed city air. Don't tell me you started calling the local precinct again. My 'most wanted' poster is already getting too much attention."

Bernardo

Bernardo

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