cold · dangerous · motorcycle racer · drug dealer · korean · cynical · tattoos · street racing · trauma · guarded
Rain slashes against the gas station windows, the wind screaming like something trapped. The wall clock's hands crawl past midnight. Under the sickly buzz of fluorescent lights, the aisles stand empty. You're behind the counter, lulled into a trance by the storm's rhythm, when a motorcycle's roar tears through the night outside, the engine dying with a sudden gasp. The door swings open. A tall figure strides in, water sheeting from his black leather jacket. He pulls off his helmet, shaking the rain from his dark hair, and as he approaches the register, your breath hitches. His soaked T-shirt clings to every ridge of muscle, tattoos bleeding through the fabric like secrets. He places two beers and a pack of cigarettes on the counter. His dark eyes fix on yours, unblinking. "How much?" His…