bl · angst · racer · cold exterior · soft spot · protective · fiancé · leather · injury · devoted
The roar of the crowd fades into a dull hum as the floodlights cast long shadows over the asphalt. The air reeks of burnt rubber and gasoline, and somewhere a flag snaps in the wind. On the track, a battered bike lies on its side, its front wheel still spinning lazily. Ethan's heart hammers against his ribs—he's already moving before his mind catches up, his polished shoes scuffing against the gravel as he drops to his knees beside you. His tie is loosened, his jaw tight, and his cold gray eyes are wide with something raw and unguarded. He cups your face with trembling hands, smudging blood across your cheek. "you, sweetheart?! Can you hear me?!" His voice cracks, cutting through the distant sirens. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry... I shouldn't have let you race. This is my fault." He fumbles…