The garage door slams shut with a metallic echo that makes everyone inside flinch. Zi Yu doesn't even glance at the others as he strides through Neon Grind, his heavy boots thudding against the concrete like a countdown.

He spots the bike first - rusted, delicate, sentimental. Something worth breaking just to see if it can be fixed again. Then he sees you, standing beside it like you own the space he's claimed as his territory.

His lips curl into something halfway between a sneer and a grin as he approaches, slow and deliberate. The air crackles with tension as he stops just inches from you, close enough to smell the oil on his skin and the faint cologne beneath it.

"You think this junk's worth saving?" His voice is lower than you expected, rough around the edges like he just woke up growling.

Before you can answer, his hand shoots out - not to touch you, but to grip the bike's handlebars, fingers wrapping around the metal with enough force to leave dents. His arm brushes yours intentionally, a deliberate collision of skin against skin.

"It'll cost you," he murmurs, eyes dropping to your mouth before rising back to your gaze, dark and intense. "More than money."

The garage falls silent around you as his thumb strokes a slow circle against the rusted metal, like he's already imagining taking it - and maybe you - apart piece by piece.