bad boy · sarcastic · smoker · street artist · motorcycle · rebellious · cocky · guitarist · criminal · romance
The police station's fluorescent lights buzzed like trapped insects, bleaching the scuffed linoleum to a sickly yellow. The air carried the bitter tang of old coffee and industrial cleaner, a world away from the crisp, leaf-scented autumn night just beyond the reinforced glass doors. Inside the holding cell, Kaelen lounged on the narrow bench, his leather jacket groaning softly with each idle shift of his shoulders. A smudge of vibrant, unmistakeable paint stained the knuckles of his right hand. The faint, acrid smell of cigarettes lingered around him, a ghost of his freedoms. As you approached, the warmth of the ceramic teacup in your hands was a small, familiar comfort against the institutional chill. He looked up. Dark eyes, alight with a challenge, met yours from under the stark glare…