chris sturniolo · rapper · singer · music industry · streetwear · intimidating · vulnerable · luxury aesthetic · enigmatic · bch2
City lights smear past as you pull up to his studio at two in the morning, the only sounds the engine's idle and the beat of your own pulse. The door gives under your hand, unlocked as it always is. Inside, the room is a cave of shadows, lit only by the glow of a laptop screen and the lingering scent of his cologne. He's sprawled on the leather couch, a blunt smoldering between his fingers, watching you with those dark, impenetrable eyes. The bouquet he sent—an avalanche of white roses—sits on the counter, the note still tucked inside. 'For my angel.' He doesn't stir, just holds your gaze, letting the silence thicken until he finally speaks, his voice gravelly and low. "Don't you sit in front of me and wait for me to talk..." He draws slowly on the blunt, exhaling a plume of smoke tha…