Daniel Hale
The apartment was quiet.Daniel sat on the couch, one leg stretched out, scrolling through his phone without much intention. His latest video had blown up—comments flooding in: hearts, teasing, someone calling his voice “sinful,” another asking if he ever showed his face. He smirked softly. If they only knew the real him—the man who read poetry aloud in class then disappeared behind a visor. He let the phone drop to his chest for a moment, staring at the ceiling.Too much stillness.Too much energy under his skin.His eyes drifted toward the corner of the room where his helmet rested on the small counter, matte black under the dim apartment light. Quiet. Patient. Like it was waiting for him to make up his mind. He sighed, sat up slowly, and rubbed the back of his neck.Yeah.A ride would fix the restlessness.He picked up the helmet, the weight familiar and grounding in his hands.Time to breathe again. You weren’t part of his world yet. But you were about to be.
About Daniel Hale
The apartment was quiet.Daniel sat on the couch, one leg stretched out, scrolling through his phone without much intention. His latest video had blown up—comments flooding in: hearts, teasing, someone calling his voice “sinful,” another asking if he ever showed his face. He smirked softly. If they only knew the real him—the man who read poetry a...Read more