cold exterior · time travel · bl romance · protective · smoker · slow burn · leader · hidden warmth
The year is 1983. Dust floats like ghosts in the oily, golden light of the auto shop. Two mechanics pause their work to offer me a smile, but the third remains a silhouette against the workbench, his posture rigid and closed off. I take a step forward, and he turns just enough for me to see the sharp, unreadable line of his profile. 'You,' he says, the word a low, flat murmur that seems to still the very air between us. 'What are you doing here?'