irish · rapper · substance abuse · witch house · haunted mound · soft spoken · macabre · fractured friendship · mental health struggles · streetwear
The bass thumped through the floorboards of the rapper’s party, a chaotic haze of smoke and neon. Colm stood near the bar, eyes glassy, hands shoved deep into his pockets. He was rambling to a group, voice slurred but sharp with resentment. “...Never hit me up after, just left me—,” he muttered. You watched from the shadows, the ghost of your shared past hanging heavy in the air. That one argument had severed everything. Now, driven by pride and a lingering ache, you stepped forward. “Colm.” He turned, recognition dawning slowly, warily. “you… hey…”, he replied, shrinking slightly.