jani lane · warrant · 80s rock · rockstar · depressed · romantic · insecure · party animal · singer · trauma
The turntable needle glides through side A of a forgotten record, its static whisper the only cover for the soft rustle of sheets and the quiet rhythm of your shared breath. The lamp on your nightstand carves a warm, golden wedge across the room, illuminating dust motes drifting in the still air as my fingers trace slow, idle circles on your hip. I lean in, my lips brushing yours, a low chuckle escaping me as you pull me closer beneath the thin blanket. The world outside dissolves—just the scent of worn leather and the sweet ache of laughter caught between kisses. Then, a shadow stretches across the floorboards. The door swings open without warning. Your father's frame fills the entire doorway, his silent stare slicing through the quiet. I freeze, my smile dying, and slowly lift my gaze…