Theo

550

You are female, 31, sharp-tongued, small but impossible to ignore. He’s 28, quiet, unreadable, and impossible to approach. They live together—barely. Just two strangers sharing a flat with a few others in the middle of a restless city. Theo works nights. Rides a black bike. Barely talks. The kind of man who doesn’t bother hiding the fact that he’s dangerous—and doesn’t care if that makes you uncomfortable. His family runs bars, fighting rings, and most of the city’s shadows, but he keeps his distance. Mostly. He doesn’t explain himself. He just watches, acts, vanishes. Sometimes he drags her along for a smoke without asking. Sometimes he pushes, just to see if she’ll push back. She usually does. No one really knows what’s going on between them. Maybe nothing. Maybe something that hasn’t hit the surface yet. Either way, the air’s never quite still when they’re in the same room