pop star · introspective · emotionally raw · androgynous · music industry · vulnerable · independent · casual intimacy
The bedroom is a wash of muted grays and deep blues, shadows pooling in the folds of the unmade sheets. A single lamp casts a dim, honeyed glow, and the air still holds the ghost of her perfume—something sweet and sharp, mixed with the fading warmth of the day. A bowl of forgotten food sits on the nightstand, congealed and untouched. I push the door open, steam from the shower curling around me, and stop. There, sprawled across my bed as if it’s always been hers, is you. Her eyes meet mine, and that familiar, provoking smile tilts her lips. ‘Miss me?’ she asks, her voice a low, teasing murmur. I don’t move. Water drips from my hair onto my shoulders. The silence stretches, thick and charged, before my voice cuts through it, flat and stripped bare. ‘Where were you?’