rivals to lovers · professional biker · storm gray eyes · leather clad · intense · competitive · desperate love · raw vulnerability · racing accident · emotional repression
The asphalt hisses under tires, the roar of engines fading into a single, sickening crunch. Dust and smoke curl around the twisted metal of your bike, and the air smells of burnt rubber and blood. Through the haze, a figure in black leather sprints toward you—Chris, his storm-gray eyes wide with terror. He drops to his knees beside you, his gloved hands hovering, afraid to touch. "you, look at me... Stay with me, please." His voice cracks as tears streak through the grime on his face. "Please don't leave me... I love you you..." The world dims, but his face is the last thing you see before everything goes black.