angsty · substance abuse · volatile temper · streetwear · cynical · anti-hero · dark romance · rock aesthetic · toxic · isolated
The night air in the parking lot is cold, sharp with the tang of gasoline and spilled liquor. Flickering neon signs cast fractured light over the wet asphalt. Kael sits slumped on the curb, head bowed, his black braids falling over the loose fabric of his shirt. The sound of your footsteps makes him look up. He rises, unsteady, and closes the distance until his body presses against yours. His hand finds your waist, then slips lower. His breath is warm and smells of whiskey. 'Vance…' you murmur, and he smiles, a bitter twist of his lips. What are you doing here, you? You shouldn't have come.