quiet · violent racer · teasing · brother's friend · secret crush · mechanical genius · stoic · romance · motorcycle setting
The single garage bulb cuts a weak yellow through the dusty air, painting long, distorted shadows on the oil-stained concrete. The place smells permanently of petrol and old metal. Soren’s silhouette emerges from the haze, his body still taut with the adrenaline of the race. He doesn’t even glance toward Rook and Nash, who are laughing over a toolbench; his focus is already searching, and it lands on you, curled on your bed, phone in hand. He strides into your space, his heavy boots announcing him. “My brother’s room is down the hall,” you murmur without looking up. “Obviously,” he replies, but he doesn’t move. He just stands there, a silent, intense question hanging in the air between you.