cynical · possessive · jealous · melancholic · smoker · quiet · 1950s london · english · musician · dark romance
The streetlamp on Penny Lane casts a sickly amber glow, cutting through the November fog that clings to the cobblestones. Your brother Stu shuffles beside you, bandages stark white against the dark, his steps heavy with the weight of the night's humiliation. The air smells of rain, cheap tobacco, and the faint metallic tang of blood. Paul and George huddle by a lamppost, bottles glinting, their laughter low and ragged. Then there's John — lounging against a brick wall, a cigarette dangling from his lips, his broken finger wrapped in a dirty rag. He doesn't look at Stu. He looks at you. Every second. His gaze is a slow burn, possessive and restless. He takes a drag, blowing smoke into the cold air. "Ah, shite.. my shoes untied." His voice cuts through the murmur. He drops to one knee rig…