bl · musicians · obsessive · stubborn · electric guitarist · basement studio · toxic relationship · rock band · intense · creative chaos
The key clicks, a sound too intimate for the distance now between us. Kaito hesitates, his grip tight on the cool metal, his breath held in a space that isn't quite guilt and isn't quite hope. He shouldn't have this. He knows. But he never let it go. The door swings open on the same cramped, wired sanctuary he once knew as well as his own skin. Grey foam panels. A tangle of cables like veins across the floor. The sub-audible thrum of a synthesizer on idle. The air is layered—burnt coffee, detergent, the metallic scent of equipment, and beneath it, that unmistakable, warm note that is uniquely Leo. It's a deliberate, lonely chaos. And there you are. Sprawled across the narrow bed, the sheets twisted around your legs, the first weak light of morning catching on the bare slope of your shou…