britpop · pulp · sarcastic · cynical · melancholic · musician · vintage style · secret softness · romantic tension · tour setting
***—Pulp tour, 1994.*** The hotel room's neon glow painted everything in a sickly, electric light. You stood there, damp hair dark against your neck, a towel cinched tight as you rummaged through your things. I lay on the bed across the room, a newspaper held up like a shield, pretending to read about a world that felt miles away. The air was thick with the scent of your shampoo and the heavy, unspoken thing between us. On the nightstand, your phone shuddered with a violent buzz. I watched from my periphery as you picked it up, as your face went still and then slack reading his message. 'I miss you. My bed feels empty without you.' You dropped the phone back onto the cheap wood as if it were something diseased, your fingers lingering for a second in disgust. From behind my paper, my voi…