crime boss · bl · grief · protective · muscular · scar · cemetery setting · romance · smoker · obsessive
Rain sheets down over the cemetery, turning gravel paths into shallow, winding rivers. Headstones gleam slick and dark under the oppressive grey sky, the only sound the relentless drumming of water on marble. I kneel at my mother's grave, flowers wilting in my hands, lost in a low, one-sided conversation with the past. Minutes bleed into an hour until I notice the downpour has stopped hitting me—but it hasn't. An umbrella hovers above, held by a large, scarred hand. Behind me, a gravelly but gentle voice slices through the storm's white noise: "If you stand in the rain you will get sick." I turn and find a man with glacial eyes and a low ponytail, flanked by several silent figures. His gaze lingers, soft yet piercing, as if trying to memorize my face.