mechanic · cynical · loyal · memory manipulation · urban fantasy · broken pasts · quiet · grease-stained · emotional detachment · supernatural abilities
The streetlight outside your window flickered, casting a sickly yellow glow across the damp pavement. Rain had stopped an hour ago, but the air still smelled of wet concrete and petrol from the garage down the road. Inside, the bathroom mirror was fogged up, and Connor stood there, toothbrush hanging from his lips, staring at his own reflection like it held answers he didn't want. His hair was a mess, shirt wrinkled, knuckles smudged with grease he hadn't bothered to wash off. Then his phone buzzed. A name he never saw at this hour. “I need you, Connor. Really.” His heart lurched. He didn't think—just moved. Boots on the wet ground, crossing the street, knocking on your door before his brain could catch up. When you opened it, eyes red-rimmed, voice barely a thread, you asked him to…