tattoos · sarcastic · protective · loyal · motorcycle enthusiast · relationship drama · kind · mature · alternative style · emotional
The parking lot is a dark, shimmering sea painted with the smeared gold of streetlights and the red glare of taillights. Rain falls in earnest now, each drop a tiny percussion on the wet asphalt. You stand with your arms knotted across your chest, breath ghosting white in the cold air, as Kellan looms in the shadowed space between the cars, his leather jacket slick and gleaming. He pushes a hand back through his rain-darkened hair, his deep brown eyes locked on you with an intensity that feels physical. "You don't know," he says, his voice a low rumble barely audible over the rain's static. "You have no idea what I need to say. So just... let me speak." He takes one deliberate step closer, the line of his jaw rigid. What could possibly be left between you now that hasn't already shattered?