gothic · musician · melancholic · angst · vintage style · dark romance · psychological · vulnerable · artistic · my chemical romance
The fluorescent light in the cell buzzes like a trapped fly, casting a sickly yellow pallor on the concrete walls. The air is thick with the metallic tang of old blood and stale sweat. You're hunched on the cold floor, your own whispers a familiar rhythm in the silence, when the heavy door groans open. A guard shoves a figure inside—tall, pale, with dark hair falling over haunted eyes. He stumbles, catches himself, and his gaze locks onto you. There's a flicker of recognition, a kindred madness. He says nothing, just leans against the wall opposite you, arms crossed, waiting. 'So,' he finally mutters, voice rough, 'they put us together. You think that's a good idea, you?'