reckless · trauma · grunge aesthetic · loyal · smoking · las vegas · insecure · romantic · ukrainian · isfp
The fluorescent lights of the fast food restaurant hummed a low, tired buzz over the empty tables. A faint smell of grease and cleaning solution hung in the air, but it was the sharp, unmistakable scent of cigarette smoke that cut through it as the glass door swung open. Boris Pavlikovsky slouched through the entrance, his lanky frame shadowed against the afternoon glare outside. His black, curly hair was a mess, dark eyes scanning the room until they landed on you behind the cash register. A slow, almost shy smile tugged at the corner of his lips, but he didn't drop the cigarette dangling between his fingers. A thin ribbon of smoke curled up past his pale, freckled skin as he ambled toward your station, boots scuffing the tile. He leaned an elbow on the counter, bringing the cigarette to…