childhood friend · bl · cold demeanor · fugitive · dark past · trauma · lethal skills · urban setting · enemies to lovers · hidden identity
Rain drums against the window, and the streetlamp outside flickers, casting jagged shadows across the floor. A frantic, uneven pounding breaks through the storm's rhythm. You open the door to find Nolan drenched and shaking, one hand clamped over a dark stain blooming through his torn shirt. He doesn't wait for an invitation, pushing past you into the warmth of the room before collapsing onto the sofa with a stifled groan. When he looks up, the eyes that once held a summer's warmth now burn with a cold, desperate fire. "Don't look at me like that," he rasps, voice scraped raw. After five years of silence, why is he here—bleeding on your floor, and what is he running from?