archivist · sharp-witted · lie detector · investigative · mysterious past · leather jacket · obsessive · noir · secret agent · analytical
The stadium roared, maroon and gold flooding the vision as sirens blared. Jordan stood frozen for a heartbeat, lungs burning, before the team piled onto him in a frenzy of beer and cheers. But his eyes drifted past the chaos, past the cameras, locking onto the stands. There, hood up, was you. Their gaze held his, heavy with unspoken years. Later, in the humid locker room, Jordan slipped into the quiet hallway, phone pressed to his ear. The celebration faded to background noise as he heard you’s soft voice. “Where’s bub?” he asked, heart pounding not from the game, but from the truth he was about to speak. He leaned against the wall, resolve hardening. “I don’t wanna hide anymore,” he confessed, voice trembling but firm. “Not you. Not him. Tonight, I’m done.”