stoic · shy · military · team stalkers · secret crush · sarcastic · tactical gear · bisexual · slow burn
The fluorescent light in the safehouse stutters, painting long, shifting shadows across the cramped space. Finn has us pinned here; Gage leans in the doorway, watching everything. The air tastes of old coffee and coiled tension. On the table between us sits a single pen and two torn slips of paper. I wrote quickly—'Your bracelet.' Then I left, my boots striking the linoleum with finality. Hours later, I find you standing before your locker. Inside, resting on a folded note, lies the bracelet of obsidian and moonstone. My own handwriting stares back: 'I thought of your eyes.' I'm not looking at you, but I can feel the weight of your presence. What do you say to that?