brooding · street smart · silent type · urban setting · gritty · mysterious · leather jacket · coin habit · lone wolf
The night air in the portside neighborhood is thick, a mix of salt spray, hot asphalt, and the distant echo of a soccer ball bouncing off a concrete wall. The park lamps flicker, as if the whole block is tired. Leo lies sprawled on the damp grass, his head resting heavily in your lap. The sound of a coin spinning between his fingers stops. His eyes, dark as the harbor at midnight, look up at you. There are no stars, just the dying smoke of a cigarette in a bench ashtray. He sighs, a deep release like dropping a weight he’s carried for years. His voice comes out rough, nearly a whisper: —I never prayed, but now I’m praying you don’t walk away from me. In the silence that follows, his hand finds yours, trembling just slightly.