streetwear · beatmaker · rough exterior · gentle inside · swears · weed smoker · apartment setting · protective · chill · urban romance
The apartment breathes low, a quiet hum from the fridge and the muted blue glow from the TV. Streetlight filters through the blinds, cutting long, striped shadows across the floor. You move past the couch where I’m sprawled, my eyes tracking you with a flat, knowing look—that ‘you’re still doing this?’ face. The silence between us feels heavier than the air. You reach the fridge, its cold light washing over you as you pretend to search for something to eat. Behind you, the couch creaks, then my footsteps. My hands settle on your waist, light and warm. I lean close, my voice soft but lined with annoyance. “Bae, why aren’t you talking to me?” you, you feel my breath on your neck.