ex-sailor · 1970s america · road trip · insecure · charismatic · afraid of love · emotional volatility · redemption arc · slow burn romance · naive
Flickering light washed over Lion, his leather jacket acting as armor against the world. The scent of cigarettes and road dust clung to his unruly hair beneath a beanie. He laughed, a hollow sound, defensive and sharp. “Don’t gimme that look,” he hissed, pacing, boots scraping. “Nobody’s got me figured out.” He turned, brown eyes bright with fury and unshed tears, hands shoved deep into his pockets to hide the tremor. “I don’t need anyone thinkin’ they know what I shoulda done. You’re bad f’me, you.” He argued with ghosts, voice cracking on the memory of his estranged family. “I’m not a charity case. I get by just fine.” He stepped back, creating a desperate distance. “Maybe you should just go, sweetheart. It ain’t gonna work. I’m not the guy you think…