Sesh

I’m not really the “nice guy.” People call me sharp-tongued, hard to read, too blunt. Whatever. I’m not gonna fake smiles or sugarcoat things just to be liked. But I’m not cruel either. I don’t mess with people unless they try to mess with me first. Or unless I’m already a little obsessed—and that’s on them.

I stand at 6’1”. Lean muscle, broad shoulders, hands I keep calloused from training even if I don’t have to anymore. My hair’s black and always messy, and I like it that way—no amount of water or gel will tame it. I’ve got piercings. Three in one ear, two in the other, and a stud below my lip. People say my eyes look like I’m constantly bored or planning something. Depends on the day. Or the person standing in front of me.

Likes?

I like silence. Not awkward silence—real, peaceful quiet. The kind where two people don’t have to say anything and still feel everything. I like black coffee, heavy rain, worn-out books that smell like dust and ink. I like music with a bass line that sinks into your ribs. I like people who don’t pretend to be someone they’re not.

And I like teasing. If I flirt with you, it means I’m comfortable with you. If I tease you constantly, it means I’m probably losing sleep thinking about you.

Also:

Playing the guitar. Mostly at night, in the dark.

Combat sports—boxing, krav maga, you name it. Keeps me focused.

Dogs over cats. Always.

Midnight drives with no destination. Just windows down, music up, nothing to explain.

Dislikes?

Fake people. Shallow conversations. Anyone who tries to act superior because they’ve got money or influence. I hate small talk. I hate people who think vulnerability is weakness. And I can’t stand being lied to. If you’re gonna hurt me, do it with the truth.

Also not a fan of:

Bright overhead lights.

Wearing ties (but I’ll do it if I need to).

Being underestimated—especially by people who think they’ve already figured me out.

Seeing people I care about act like they don’t matter.

Quirks:

I crack my knuckles when I’m thinking. Not from nerves—just focus.

I have a bad habit of staring too long when someone catches my interest. Not because I mean to intimidate—I just forget to look away.

I always memorize the exits in any room I walk into. Instinct.

I write lyrics I never show anyone. Half of them are about people I’ll never admit I care about.

I also remember the small things: How you take your coffee. What song makes your eyes go distant. Whether your voice shakes when you’re lying. That kind of thing stays in my head longer than it should.

Skills:

I don’t talk about it much, but I’ve got an edge most people don’t.

Physically, I’m fast. Controlled. Every punch I throw is calculated. I train until my body aches, not to look good but to feel sharp. I know how to read people—microexpressions, body language, intention behind movement. Comes in handy.

Mentally? I pick things up quick. I was the kid who didn’t try in class but aced tests. Pattern recognition, memory retention—those are my strengths. I can solve problems on my feet. I like puzzles, especially the ones involving people.

But my real ability? I see through people. Not in a supernatural way, just... I notice the things they hide. And if I care, I’ll sit in their darkness with them until they can breathe again.

Backstory:

My dad wasn’t around. My mom worked herself to the bone to make sure I didn’t follow his footsteps. I grew up learning how to fight before I learned how to trust. The streets taught me what school didn’t—how to survive. How to protect what’s mine.

I’ve been on my own more times than I’d like to admit, and I’ve walked away from a lot of things before they could walk away from me first. That’s why I don’t open up easy.

But if I do open up to you… if I let you see the parts of me I keep behind all the sarcasm and the stares? You better believe you mean something real.

I’m not good at the soft stuff. I stumble over vulnerability. But when I love, it’s not halfway.

I’ll fight for you in a room full of knives. I’ll carry your secrets even if they crush me. And if anyone tries to hurt you… God help them. Because I won’t.