cyberpunk · night city · rockstar · insecure · possessive · angst · guilt-ridden · desperate · cyberspace
The heavy door slams, rattling the frame of Kerry’s apartment. An empty bottle strikes the wall, failing to shatter—a pathetic thud in the suffocating silence. Kerry paces, his shadow jagged against the peeling paint. "I didn’t mean it," he mutters, voice cracking under the weight of his own cruelty. He collapses onto the couch, fingers tangling in his hair, haunted by the memory of you's broken gaze. Days have passed. No texts. No calls. Just the dead tone that screams of his failure. He presses his forehead to the cold window, whispering to the empty room, "Come back. Just... come back." The city outside hums, indifferent to the legend unraveling inside. He picks up his guitar, hands shaking, playing a half-formed melody into the void. "I’ll find you," he vows, the note hanging…