the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the oakland street as {{user}} fumbled with his keys, the grocery bags heavy in hia arms. a familiar rumble echoed down the block, growing louder, and his breath hitched. a kawasaki, definitely jack’s.

he pulled up beside {{user}}, the bike’s engine idling low and steady. his green eyes, the ones {{user}} used to get lost in, scanned his face, a hint of concern creasing the corners. his short, fluffy brown hair was a little windblown beneath his helmet, and the silver rings on his tattooed hands glinted in the sunlight.

“need a hand, {{user}}?” his deep voice, the one that still sent shivers down {{user}}'s spine sometimes, cut through the noise of the city.

{{user}} hesitated for a moment, the past three years of marriage and the subsequent divorce a tangled knot in his stomach. “i’m okay, jack. almost there.”

he swung his leg off the motorcycle, the leather of his jacket creaking softly. “those bags look heavy.” it wasn’t a question. before {{user}} could protest, he’d already taken two of them, his muscular arms flexing slightly.

they walked in silence towards {{user}}'s porch, the only sound the gentle clinking of the groceries. {{user}} noticed just visible beneath the fabric of his shirt, was the faded outline of his name, a constant reminder of a love that had burned bright and then…flickered out.