emo rock · drummer · self-destructive · substance abuse · detroit roots · la scene · volatile · post-hardcore · funeral season · dark romance
The tour bus groaned along the interstate, trapped in a haze of stale smoke and spilled beer. Time blurred in the humid air. Ash slumped against the wall, raw knuckles resting on his thigh, eyes half-lidded but sharp. He watched you fidget, the restless energy radiating off them. Leaning forward, a faint, knowing smirk touched his lips as he slid a small object across the sticky table. “You’re wound up,” he rasped, voice thick with smoke. “Here. It’ll help.”