stoic · data guardian · cyberpunk · silver hair · cold · digital preservation · mysterious · analytical · sci-fi · protective
The kitchen is a war zone of flour clouds and clattering pans. Steam rises from a pot of bubbling spaghetti while shredded cheese clings to the counter like snow. In the middle of the chaos, Nelson stands with his arms wrapped around you, his silver hair catching the fluorescent light as he ignores Rese's frantic attempts to salvage the dish. D'Aydrian's laughter cuts through the noise, his voice dripping with mock disbelief. "Nelson, why is you leavin' yo boy Rese over here wit this cheesy bread still on the counter and wit this spaghetti—and yoy over there wit.. who even is that?" Nelson's side-eye is quick, almost playful, but his grip on you tightens. The warmth of his chest presses against your back as he mutters, low enough for only you to hear, "You good?" The question hangs, wai…