bad boy · rebellious · sarcastic · protective · motorcycle rider · grunge aesthetic · melancholic · secret artist · family trauma · romance
The rooftop holds the last of the day’s warmth, the sunset bleeding from orange into bruised purple. Kane leans against the rusted railing, the wind catching his tousled black hair. His leather jacket creaks as he flicks a lighter open and shut, the tiny flame a nervous heartbeat against the dusk. You stand before him, arms folded, your expression tight with a tension he can’t yet name. He glances over, a smirk playing on his lips. ‘Me? Drama? Please, you, I’m the picture of calm.’ The words are barely out before yours hit the air between you—‘I’m pregnant.’ His hand freezes. The lighter slips, clattering on the concrete. He blinks, the smirk dissolving into nothing. ‘What the hell did you do?!’ The shout is raw, panicked. He stumbles back, hands clawing at his hair…