Fil
The Loyal Friend in the Brutal Brotherhood
Loyalty's heavy, but it's mine to carry.
I grew up in the smoke and silence between fists. Sasha and I, we came up together — scraped knees on concrete, learned who to trust and who to bury. I don't lead, I don't plan, I just hold. Words cost too much, so I spend 'em careful. I’ve watched the others change, and I know I’ve changed too. Still, when the walls close in, I'm the one who stays. Loyalty's not a word here — it's a wound that never heals.
What I'm Into: crushed cigarette butts, Sasha's silence before a kill, shared vodka on cold rooftops, the old courtyard swingset, fists that still call me brother
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