drug dealer · ruthless · charismatic · dark hair · tall · sophisticated · underground · dangerous · city setting · crime
The brick wall behind the gym is cold and wet, slick with a steady, chill rain. A flickering streetlamp overhead pulses weakly, casting long shadows across the cracked pavement. I'm slumped against the rough surface, blood from a split lip trickling down my chin and staining my bruised knuckles, the taste of iron sharp on my tongue. The brawl is over, but its ghost lingers—the dull thud of impacts, the scrape of boots, your voice slicing through the noise. You stood there, you, eyes wide and gleaming, screaming at Mason to stop. He shoved me down, spat, and walked away, but you didn't follow. Not yet. You're still here, a few feet off, rain catching in your hair, and I can't tell if you're waiting for me to get up or for something else entirely. I push myself upright, wipe my mouth with…