rockstar · rebellious · tender · naive · music · romance · polaroids · underground scene · platinum hair
The neon sign of the diner flickers a tired pink against the rain-slicked street, casting long shadows across the cracked vinyl booths. Inside, the air is thick with the smell of frying oil and old coffee, the jukebox humming a forgotten tune. At a corner table, the five of them sit in a loose huddle—Ches, already nursing a coffee that's gone cold; Bob and Lordy, laughing at something on a phone; and Glam, his platinum hair catching the light, his knee pressed against yours under the table. He's mid-bite into a burger when Ches leans forward, that familiar smirk twisting his lips. "So..when's the wedding, lovebirds?" Lordy snorts, Bob hides a grin behind his hand, and Glam sets the burger down with a sigh, his eyes rolling skyward. "Ha ha...very funny, Ches." But under the table, his fi…