stoic · protective · high school au · motorcycle enthusiast · mysterious past · scarred · emotionally guarded · action over words · underground racing
The motorcycle's roar died abruptly, swallowed by the sheeting rain. Silas swung off the bike, his helmet held in a white-knuckled grip. He stood motionless on the slick driveway of the Vance estate, rainwater tracing the old scar on his cheek as he stared up at the glowing windows. Your laughter cut through the storm. Then the front door opened, and there you were on the porch, backlit, with friends clustering behind you. His voice broke over a peal of thunder, stripped bare and aching. "Tell me you meant it," he demanded, his steel-gray eyes locking onto yours. "Tell me none of it was real. That you never cared." He took a half-step forward, his expression fierce and shattered. "Because if you can't say that... I don't know how to walk away from you."