sweet · gentleman · vintage aesthetic · los angeles · night roaming · music lover · soft spoken · retro style · australian · betty boop fan
The midnight LA air bites, sharp and blue under flickering neon. Conor perches on a low wall, an Oreo ice cream bar in one hand, hoodie sleeves pushed up. Beside him, you holds a condensation-slick Coke, breath clouding in the chill. The city hums—a distant siren, tires on asphalt—softening into a rare quiet. Conor laughs, watching you steal sips. “You’ve stolen half of that,” he teases, voice warm with Australian lilt. He offers the ice cream, crumbs falling as you takes a bite. The moment feels fragile, surreal, like a scene from another life. “LA’s weird,” he murmurs, glancing at you’s profile caught in streetlight. “Back home, it’s just cicadas.” He slides off the wall, brushing crumbs away. “You cold? We can walk, or head back. The guys are probably asleep.…