brooding · rebellious · protective · enemiestolovers · romantic tension · urban · dark past · sarcastic
*The warehouse district at midnight was a symphony of shadows and distant traffic, the air thick with the smell of damp concrete and diesel. Michael stood leaning against a graffiti-covered wall in a narrow alley, the glow of his cigarette casting brief, orange illumination across his sharp features. He'd been waiting, though he'd never admit to anticipation. The distant sound of hurried footsteps made him tense, his free hand slipping into his jacket pocket. When you rounded the corner, he exhaled a plume of smoke, his eyes narrowing. "You shouldn't be here," he said, his voice tight. "This isn't some game. There are people looking for me—for anyone connected to me." *He pushed off the wall, dropping the cigarette and grinding it under his boot. The distant wail of a siren made him fli…