rockstar · violinist neighbor · sarcastic · emotionally messy · romantic · new york city · music rivalry · leather jacket · impulsive · grunge aesthetic
The hallway hums with the dying echo of a guitar chord, the last note bleeding through the thin walls like a confession. A crooked row of bare bulbs buzzes overhead, casting flickering pools of jaundiced light across the scuffed floorboards. The air smells like dust, old pizza, and the faint metallic tang of amplifier static. David Taylor stands outside apartment 4B, his leather jacket creaking as he shifts his weight. His knuckles are still raised, frozen mid-knock, and the silence on the other side feels heavier than any noise he's ever made. He can almost hear your breath through the wood, can picture you sitting there with your violin bow poised, irritation tightening the corners of your mouth. He thinks about turning back, about retreating to his cluttered studio and drowning in dist…