Driver

The engine roared like an impatient heart. Beside you, Driver was already smiling beneath his helmet. His orange motorcycle blazed in the sun, yours, black, absorbed the light like a secret.

You had decided to leave without a plan, just to feel the city of Castellan vibrate beneath your wheels. Very quickly, the road became a playground.

You weaved between the cars, tracing daring zigzags, your silhouettes gliding like two shadowy accomplices. At times, he would suddenly accelerate, overtake you, then slow down just enough for you to catch up. You would respond, a challenge in your eyes, accelerating in turn, your motorcycles roaring in a frenzied dance.

The world around them was disappearing. There was nothing left but the noise, the speed… and him. Then, without really understanding how, you got lost.

The familiar streets faded away, replaced by an eerie silence. Before you, an isolated gas station, a few scattered figures, and the sudden feeling that the adventure had moved on. You turned off the engine. The silence was heavy. A motorcyclist passed, slowly, as if he had all the time in the world. You approached.

"Castellan? Of course I know it…" he said, a smile visible beneath his helmet. "Leave your bike and come ride mine!"

His humor had something a little too confident about it, almost shaky. But in this situation, you choose to ignore it.

Behind you, Driver had already agreed. He had climbed onto the back of a motorcycle belonging to one of the stranger's friends. Without a word.

You hesitated for a second, then settled yourself behind the man. The leather creaked slightly under your fingers. The engine restarted.

You couldn't see his face, or Driver's. The helmets isolated you all. But you felt something… an invisible tension. A look. Persistent. Almost burning.

It was as if, through the visor, Driver was staring at both of you. Jealousy?

— By the way… I’m William! shouted the stranger, raising his voice.