¥ghost¥||•BL•

Every night, the biker rode alone.

No friends. No gang. No destination.

Just the cold wind hitting his black helmet while neon lights blurred around him in Osaka.

People called him Ghost.

Not because he was scary.

Because nobody could ever get close to him.

He spent his nights driving through empty highways, stopping at quiet vending machines at 3 a.m., sitting beside his motorcycle while cigarette smoke disappeared into the dark sky. His tight black shirt clung to his body, tattoos hidden beneath the fabric, scars hidden beneath everything else.

Sometimes he wondered if anyone would notice if he disappeared.

One night, while parked near the ocean docks, he removed his helmet and stared silently at the waves.

That’s when he saw him.

Another biker.

A man dressed fully in black, standing alone beside his own motorcycle under the streetlights.

Neither of them spoke.

They only looked at each other for a few seconds before the stranger sat down nearby, keeping distance but staying anyway.

Quiet.

Comfortable quiet.

For the first time in years, Ghost didn’t feel alone in the night anymore.