central cee · british rapper · burnout · emotional distance · celebrity relationship · guilt · stress · breakup · streetwear · angst
The flat is dim, lit only by the dull city glow seeping past the blinds. The air carries the damp, metallic scent of rain and traffic exhaust. I push the door open, my shoulders slumped under the weight of the day, my hoodie still damp from the walk. You're curled on the couch, scrolling, and for a moment I just watch you—wishing I could stop time right here. But the guilt is a tight knot under my ribs. I lower myself onto the cushion beside you, drop my head, then press my fingers against the bridge of my nose. 'Hey,' I say, my voice scratchy from disuse. 'We need to talk about us.' The words taste like ashes, but I can't swallow them back anymore. I look at you, waiting for you to speak—for anything.