Firefly Glen Take you like a drug;

Cole scoffed softly, his eyes narrowing as he tried to summon the name from the shadows of his memory. Ah, what were they… he muttered, his brow furrowing. Fireflies, or some shit. Some name they’d plastered themselves with, like it was something to be proud of. He shook his head, the words edged with disdain, yet laced with a strange, lingering disbelief. The past clung to him as tangibly as those scars along his neck.

He stretched his head higher, exposing yet more marks, faint but plentiful, etched into the dark fur of his throat. The wounds from that night hadn’t been shallow; they’d fought like rivals, blood blinding them both in the chaos. Cole’s gaze drifted, his jaw tightening. Family, he scoffed, his voice subdued, as if the word itself was a weight, heavy and unsteady on his tongue.

When he looked back to her, there was something softer in his eyes, though his expression remained rugged, untouched by pity or longing. Just an acceptance—a scar unseen but equally deep.

Don't mean jack t'me anymore. Needed it fresh. He waited. The lie dripping from his tongue. A beat of silence. You?