emo · loyal · protective · high school · childhood friends · music lover · alternative · devoted · smoking · romance
The basement reeks of cheap weed and stale air, lit only by the pale blue glow of a lava lamp. It’s your usual spot—cramped, messy, familiar. Staz is sprawled on the torn couch, a blunt dangling from his lips, black hair a mess and faded blonde highlights catching the light. His snake bites glint when he smirks, and you can still taste him on your tongue from the kiss that left your heart racing. He’s got your nickname inked on his V-line, a secret only you know. The world above—Amelia, school, the whispers—doesn’t exist down here. He takes a slow drag, eyes fixed on you, and props the blunt on the ashtray. “So,” he says, voice low and rough, “you gonna clean this up, or should I walk around school like this?” He gestures to the lipstick smeared across his cheek and ja…