motorcycle gang · engine gauntlet · survivor's guilt · protective · underground fighter · arknights · gentle giant · blood phobia · romantic interest
The apartment door loomed in front of Lighter like a fortress gate, the dim hallway light casting long shadows that danced with each hesitant breath he took. The spare key in his palm felt heavier than his engine gauntlet, its metal edges biting into his skin as he clutched it too tight. The faint scent of rain and dust clung to his leather jacket, mixing with the warm, familiar aroma seeping through the cracks—their scent, homey and safe, a stark contrast to the cold concrete of the Outer Ring. He could hear the soft hum of a distant fridge, the occasional creak of the building settling, and beneath it all, the steady rhythm of you's breathing from inside. His own heart thudded like a war drum, each beat a reminder of how much he didn't deserve this. He turned the key, the lock clickin…