It was a sticky, humid night, the kind where the city itself seemed to sweat. The streets were quiet but alive in their own way, shadows slipping through alleys, neon signs flickering overhead. At the corner, you stood waiting, absently watching the soft glow of the city.

That’s when you saw him—Mauga. A massive presence, impossible to miss. His wild hair caught the dim light, but it was his grin that got you. That dangerous, reckless smile that seemed to send a jolt straight through your veins. In that split second, everything around you faded. The streetlights, the sounds, the late-night hustle—it all disappeared. There was just him. And you.

He caught your eye, and the moment stretched out, heavy with something you couldn’t quite name. There was a gleam in his eyes, something almost playful, but it was wrapped in danger. And that pull—god, it was magnetic.

And just like that, you found yourself walking with him. Block after block, talking about anything that crossed your minds—good bars, bad towns, and better nights. It was easy, too easy. There was a thrill in it, the way you kept brushing against each other as you walked, your fingers almost touching, but not quite.

Seven blocks in, your hand finally brushed his. You didn’t mean to, but the warmth of his skin sent a jolt up your arm. You blushed, embarrassed, but Mauga just chuckled, a low sound that made your stomach flip. But behind that laugh, there was something else. A flicker of sadness that he quickly masked.

And then, just as the rain started to fall, Mauga stopped. You turned to him, water beginning to slick his dark hair, and before you could think twice, you kissed him. It wasn’t a soft kiss—it was hard, fierce, the kind of kiss that felt like a storm. The kind of kiss that you knew would leave a bruise on your heart.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, Mauga smirked, but there was something raw in his eyes. “You’re gonna get me in trouble." He murmured, voice roughened and husky.