metal family

The door swings open. Glam stands there in a pristine, perfectly ironed button-up shirt despite the hour, holding a porcelain teacup. His posture is flawlessly straight, and a pleasant, almost uncomfortably wide smile fixes onto his face. His eyes lock onto yours with intense, unblinking curiosity.Glam: "My goodness. You are certainly not selling cookies."He takes a slow, precise sip of his tea, waiting.Before you can answer, Vicky shoves past him, nearly knocking his shoulder. Her bright ginger hair is a wild, messy bird's nest, and her tank top is covered in engine grease. She wipes her filthy hands directly onto her cargo pants and glares down at you, instantly scanning your coffee and your nervous posture. She scoffs loudly.Vicky: "The hell do you want? We ain't buying whatever garbage you're peddling."Glam: "Now, Victoria, let us not be rude."He tilts his head at you, his voice smooth and lilting.Glam: "Are you perhaps lost? Or... looking for someone specific?"From somewhere deep in the house, heavy footsteps approach. Dee slouches into the hallway, his eyes glued to his phone, long bangs completely covering his face.Dee: "Dad, Heavy took my eyeliner again and I swear to God I'm gonna—"He stops dead in his tracks. He sees you.For a split second, his eyes widen, but he instantly catches himself. The panic vanishes, replaced by a cold, completely expressionless mask. He shifts his weight, sliding his hands deep into his hoodie pockets. He lets his bangs fall lower over his eyes, leaning casually against the wall as if he couldn't care less that you're standing on his porch. He looks at you through his eyelashes, trying to look dark, mysterious, and completely unbothered.Dee: "...Hey."His voice is a quiet, low mutter. He doesn't look at his parents.Dee: "Thought we said the park. Whatever. Standing on a porch is pretty basic anyway."Glam's smile widens by a fraction. He looks between you and Dee, his head tilting further to the side as he analyzes the sudden change in his son's demeanor.Glam: "Ah. Fascinating. So this explains why you have spent the last three weeks meticulously styling your hair and using up all the bathroom mirror time."Vicky lets out a harsh, barking laugh, slapping her knee.Vicky: "Ha! I knew it! The kid's been sneaking out acting like a weird little goth Romeo, and now the catch shows up at our door!"Dee doesn't yell or stutter. Instead, he just rolls his eyes with ultimate scoffing disdain, pulling his hood up a bit higher to hide the faint pink tint hitting his ears. He looks away, staring at the floorboards with a brooding, tragic expression.Dee: "You guys are loud. It's literally just a person. Stop being embarrassing."Glam ignores Dee's attitude, his tone remaining perfectly hospitable and polite. He steps back, gesturing into the house with an elegant wave of his hand.Glam: "Well, since you have traveled all this way, and you clearly have excellent taste in warm beverages... please, do come inside. It would be entirely improper to leave you on the threshold."Vicky turns on her heel, heading back toward the kitchen while loudly yelling over her shoulder.Vicky: "Yeah, get your ass in here! And if that coffee is actually good, you better share some, kid!"Dee remains slumped against the hallway wall. As you step inside, he doesn't look at you directly, but he deliberately pushes his hair back with one hand, letting you see his sharp eyeliner and his best moody, brooding smirk. He speaks in a quiet, low murmur meant just for you.Dee: "Don't mind them. They don't get it. Come on... my room is upstairs away from the noise."Glam watches him walk away, a highly amused expression on his face, before turning back to you.Glam: "Please, make yourself at home."

As you cross the threshold, Dee turns to head up the stairs, expecting you to follow his brooding lead. But before you can take two steps, a heavy, grease-stained hand clamps down firmly on your shoulder, stopping you dead in your tracks.Vicky leans in close, smelling faintly of motor oil and stale cigarette smoke. She isn't trying to scare you—she’s just completely incapable of understanding what a personal bubble is. Her sharp eyes lock onto yours, brimming with chaotic curiosity.Vicky: "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold your horses, kid. You ain't running off to the bat cave just yet."Up on the bottom step, Dee freezes. His cool, detached expression cracks for a microsecond as his shoulders tense up. He slowly turns around, keeping his hands rammed deep in his pockets, his brow furrowing into a dark, moody scowl.Dee: "Mom. Let go of them. We're going upstairs."Vicky ignores him entirely, crossing her arms and looking you up and down like a mechanic inspecting a used car.Vicky: "So, what's the deal here? How long have you been hanging out with my kid? Because he’s been acting like a total weirdo lately. Smilin' at his phone, locking himself in the bathroom for an hour just to do that stupid eye makeup... it’s driving me nuts."Dee lets out a sharp, quiet hiss of breath through his teeth. He quickly adjusts his hoodie, pulling the strings tight so the fabric hides the burning red blush spreading across his cheeks. He leans his head back against the banister, staring at the ceiling with a look of pure, tragic suffering.Dee: "I don't smile at my phone. And it takes ten minutes, not an hour. You're literally making things up."Vicky snorts, poking a finger toward you.Vicky: "Don't listen to him, he's full of it. So, where’d you guys even meet? School? An arcade? Don't tell me you met him at one of those depressing-ass goth clubs down the street."Glam walks past the three of you, maintaining his perfectly straight posture as he carries his teacup toward the kitchen. He pauses for just a moment, offering you a deeply amused, almost pitying look.Glam: "Do try to answer truthfully. Victoria has a remarkably low tolerance for evasion, and she will follow you up the stairs if her curiosity is unsatisfied."Dee snaps his head toward you, his eyes burning through his long bangs. He desperately wants to look like a mysterious, untouchable rebel in front of you, but his family is utterly wrecking his vibe. He lowers his voice to a sharp, hushed murmur, trying to sound dark and commanding.Dee: "You don't have to answer her. She's just being obnoxious. Just... come upstairs."Vicky steps right between you and the staircase, completely blocking the path with her arms crossed over her chest. She grins, her sharp eyes practically begging for the gossip.