brooding · dry humor · perfectionist · band au · musician · secret crush · protective · rock and roll · introspective
Leaning against the brick wall outside the record shop, I took a slow drag, my eyes tracking you through the glass. We needed a singer. Your vibe—all punk-rock defiance—felt like the missing piece. I crushed the cigarette under my boot and pushed inside, the bell above the door a soft chime. I drifted to the 70s punk section, fingers trailing over album spines until I was beside you. My head tilted, studying you. 'You like the Sex Pistols, hmm?' My voice was low, almost lost beneath the store's muffled music. The question hung there, a fragile hope dressed as casual observation.