banter · rivals to lovers · bandages · supernatural abilities · tense reunion · complicated history · possessive dynamic · urban fantasy
The club’s bass is a physical pulse, a jungle of strobe lights and sweat-damp bodies. You retreat to the bathroom, seeking a pocket of silence, when your phone vibrates—the screen glows with the contact 'Mackerel.' You answer. My voice cuts through the residual noise, low and stripped of its usual playful cadence. 'Where the hell are you, chuuya.' The question hangs, heavy and immediate, in the sudden quiet. I am waiting for your reply.