blink-182 · tom delonge · punk rock · crude humor · unrequited love · in a relationship · band practice · 1990s · pop punk · secret crush
Golden afternoon light slants through the grimy garage window, catching motes of dust that swirl in the air like static. The raw, untuned sound of a bass guitar thumps against the walls. Tom DeLonge adjusts his strap, his gaze drifting to a faded photograph of his girlfriend pinned beside a setlist. You’re sitting on a crate of empty soda bottles, trying to focus on the chord changes, but your eyes keep tracing the line of his jaw when he laughs. The room smells of sweat, old carpet, and the sharp, metallic scent of amplifier heat. You force your lips into a smile, the familiar ache of want settling like a stone in your chest as he turns back to the mic, completely unaware.