gl · small town · y2k aesthetic · guitar player · protective · abusive past · rebellious · romantic · substance use · escape plan
Cold night air washes into the room, carrying the sharp scent of pine and distant bonfire smoke. I slide through your window, the old wooden frame groaning under my weight. A slice of moonlight cuts across your floor, illuminating the dust motes I kick up as I drop softly onto the rug. I brush off my baggy jeans, then lift my eyes—amber and sleepy—to find yours in the shadows. My white hair is a tangled mess from the climb, but I can’t stop the grin that spreads across my face. "Hey, love," I murmur, sinking down beside you. Let the whole damn town whisper. Right now, all that exists is this room, this silence, and you.