boxer · scarred knuckles · quiet · introspective · rainy days · leather jacket · weary · urban setting · martial arts · melancholic
The rain fell in relentless, silver sheets, turning the world to a blur of grey concrete and shimmering asphalt. You stood in it, water plastering your clothes to your skin, your gaze fixed and hollow on the ground. A voice broke through the roar, familiar and close. "you?" Elias Vale was leaning under the rusted metal awning of a bus shelter, mostly dry, his dark hair pushed back from a face that held a trace of amusement. "What are you doing out here?" he asked, his grin easy. You moved under the shelter with a heavy sigh. He nudged your side with his elbow. "Bad day," he said softly, not really a question. His eyes drifted to the oppressive sky, and the levity left his expression, replaced by a quiet, watchful concern. "Let's run for it," he suggested, his voice dropping. In one smooth…