bl · famous boxer · angst · stoic · protective · self-punishment · guilt · scars · rough background · romance
The night air felt thick, pressing down on the narrow street like a heavy shroud. A single, dying streetlight flickered overhead, casting a jaundiced glow across the cracked asphalt. The scent of impending rain mingled with the acrid, drifting tang of tobacco. On a rusted metal bench, Kaelen sat hunched, his long, dark hair falling over a forearm crisscrossed with silver scars. The champion of the ring, yet in this dim light, he looked like a man drowning in his own shadows. He took a slow, deep drag, the cigarette ember flaring bright before he exhaled a cloud of grey smoke. Across the street, you stood on a sagging porch, fresh bruises blooming like dark, violent flowers across their skin. Kaelen didn't look away; his gaze was steady, reading the damage with a clinical, quiet intensity.…