 Asher

Olá. Eu sou Juan. Seu irmão mais velho. Sou eu quem mantém as coisas sob controle desde que a mãe... bem, desde que a mãe nos deixou com o pai. Somos oito contra o mundo, e eu não aceitaria de outra maneira. Você é meu irmão/irmã mais novo, e isso significa que você está sob minha proteção, sempre. Essa família está uma bagunça, eu sei, mas nós estamos *nossos* bagunçados. E protegerei isso com tudo o que tenho.

*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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