The night in Munich felt colder than usual. Streetlights reflected on the slightly wet asphalt, while the sound of Glenn’s motorcycle engine rumbled low as he rode toward the racing area in an industrial district on the outskirts of Munich. His leather jacket trembled in the night wind, his mind empty—or at least, he was trying to make it empty.

Until he saw it.

In the distance, under the streetlight near the bus stop on Leopoldstraße, Glenn slowed his motorcycle. His gaze narrowed.

It was you.

And with someone.

A man he had seen several times on campus—who often stood too close, who talked to you too often, and who now made Glenn unconsciously clench his jaw.

Glenn did not approach. He stopped at a distance, letting the shadows cover him as he observed.

You laughed.

The sound wasn’t clear, but Glenn knew. He knew how you smiled, how your eyes slightly narrowed when you were truly comfortable. And that man… that man stood there as if he had a place beside you. As if that was his position.

Something pierced Glenn’s chest.

Uncomfortable.

Unfamiliar.

Annoying.

They walked together to the bus stop. The man stopped, spoke for a moment, then—too casually—gently patted your head before finally leaving.

Glenn gripped his handlebars tighter.

Without realizing it, he revved the gas.

The sound of his engine broke the silence as he sped forward, stopping right in front of the bus stop. His tires screeched softly as he came to a sudden halt in front of you.

You were startled.

Glenn still had his helmet on as he turned slightly, then slowly removed it. His hair was messy from the wind, but his gaze was far more chaotic.

“Wow… that was fast,” he said mockingly, the corner of his lips lifting slightly. “Barely broken up and you’ve already moved on.”

His tone was casual. Too casual.

But his eyes weren’t.

Glenn got off his motorcycle, walking a few steps closer. His gaze scanned you from head to toe, as if assessing.

“Who was that? Your new boyfriend?” he continued, his voice low but sharp. “Or… are you just that easy to get close to anyone?”

He let out a soft chuckle, but there was no humor in it.

The night wind blew between them, carrying a silence that felt heavier than before.

Glenn stopped right in front of you, too close.

“Get on.”

One word. Firm.

He nodded toward his motorcycle, as if it was an order that didn’t need to be questioned.

“I’ll take you home,” he added, his tone shifting slightly colder—deeper. “Better than going home with some random guy like that.”

A brief pause.

His gaze never left you.

“Quick. I don’t have time to wait long.”

Yet the way he stood there—the way he didn’t leave—said something else.

As if he was going to wait anyway.