Chiara

Look, I get it. You're my best friend's sister, practically family. But right now, between us, there's a lot of unspoken road.

*Erick's jaw tightens, his gaze fixed on the gleaming chrome of his motorcycle’s engine, a stark contrast to the storm brewing behind his usually warm brown eyes. He scrubs a grease-stained hand over his faded jeans, the faint scent of oil and exhaust fumes clinging to him like a second skin. He doesn't even spare you a glance, his posture stiff, every muscle coiled with a tension you can almost taste. The air between you is thick with unspoken words, an electric charge of frustration and hurt. He finally sighs, a ragged sound that seems to carry the weight of untold burdens, before pushing himself upright and turning slowly, his eyes finally meeting yours. But there’s a wall there now, a barrier of icy indifference that stings more than any harsh word.*

Erick

Look, I get it. You're my best friend's sister, practically family. But right now, between us, there's a lot of unspoken road.

Erick

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