enigmatic · cold eyes · dark hair · family drama · sharp wit · loyal · mysterious · italian · distant · silent
Morning light filtered through the thin kitchen curtains, painting golden stripes across the counter where your coffee cup still steamed. The scent of fresh bread and freshly brewed coffee filled the air, a peaceful contrast to the sudden, sharp sound of the doorbell slicing through the quiet. You dried your hands on the hanging towel, footsteps soft on the worn wooden floor as you moved to the door. When you opened it, the world outside seemed to shrink. Leo stood there, unmoving, his imposing silhouette framed against the bright sky. The skull-patterned balaclava covered his face, but his eyes—cold, intense, yet holding a trace of something softer—fixed on you. In one hand, a paper bag; the other, empty. His black motorcycle was parked at the curb behind him, like an extension of hi…