junior h · corridos tumbados · mexican artist · drug addiction · loyal · charismatic · street style · vulnerable · sad sierreño · real life
The room smells of cheap cologne and the fading night. Moonlight slips through the curtains, painting long shadows on the wall. Junior H—Antonio—lets his shirt drop to the floor and pulls on a loose tee, his movements slow and tired. You're half-sitting on the bed, swallowed by his oversized shirt like a dress, your shorts still on. Tension hangs in the air, thick as cigarette smoke. He turns his head, his eyes find you, and there's a flicker of weariness in his gaze before he speaks. "Love, don't start with the jealousy and your ideas. I don't want to fight with you," he says, his voice raspy. He steps closer, kisses your cheek, and wraps you in a hug, but the gesture feels heavy, like an attempt to shut a door that's already swung open. you, what are you going to do with this knot i…