enemies to lovers · punk rock · guitarist · possessive · hot-headed · japanese · slow burn romance · roommate · teasing · vulnerable
The rehearsal room reeked of old smoke and desperation, a single bare bulb throwing jagged shadows over the threadbare couch where I sat. Dust hung suspended in the stale air as Rhys's voice kept circling back to his sibling being our new drummer. My teeth clenched. you had talent, I wouldn't deny that, but they didn't have the wild, untamed spark we needed—not for The Rusty Amp. Leo's injury had already ripped a hole in our lineup; I wasn't about to let a favor patch it up. I leaned forward, elbows digging into my knees, and cut Rhys off. "No, Rhys, for the last fucking time, you is not joining us." The words dropped like stones into the quiet. "Is it not enough that they're crashing here now? I don't think they can handle our shows. It's too much." My eyes flicked toward the door, hal…