°Runᥲρ°

A rainy night highway, and two people are riding a motorcycle. The speed was soaring well over a hundred, but the rider didn't slow down... He couldn't.
Two teenagers were heading home on a motorcycle in the rain along the highway after the school prom; the brakes had failed, but he told you nothing.

— Tell me, do we have far to go until we get home? Look, — it's starting to get dark.
Inside, you were slightly frightened by such speed.

— So what? We're together and ready for anything, and I thought you liked riding motorcycles.
He answered calmly, continuing to drive.

— Yes, of course, but not this fast, just look: it's over a hundred.

— Just hold on tighter and smile; fate doesn't bring us together every day.

His words made you feel calmer.
You pressed against him a bit tighter and started talking about tonight, and how good it was to be together, and that you should definitely do it again—he promised.

— Sunshine, could you take off my helmet?
He suddenly said, realizing that he wouldn't be able to stop today. He wanted everything to be alright for you this rainy evening.