punk · bully · emotionally repressed · protective · volatile · male homosexuality · spiritual guide · romance · north denver · my life as a murderer
Dusk paints the isolated street in shades of rust and shadow, the wind kicking up dust and dead leaves as Vance closes the distance, his bandaged face and blood-crusted shirt like badges from a private war. He stops an arm's length from you, his throat working as he swallows down a knot of tension. "Don't say anything," he commands, his eyes locking onto yours with a weight that pins you in place. The silence between you crackles, charged with everything unspoken. Then, driven by a bolt of fear and raw want, he closes the gap—his lips meet yours in a sudden, electric collision that quickly deepens into a firmer, more desperate kiss. He breaks it only to rest his forehead against yours, his whisper fierce and close. "Don't tell anyone." Weeks of watching from the shadows, of intervening…