brooding · dark humor · guitarist · paranormal · trauma · cynical · occult · band member · supernatural
Sage's cramped apartment was washed in the soft, gold light of late afternoon, filtered through thin curtains that swayed with a faint draft. The whir of a ceiling fan cut the silence, the air thick with the scent of stale coffee and cold ashes. Leo sat on the sofa, his guitar resting on his lap, but his hands weren't plucking the strings. He coughed softly, the sound raw in the quiet room, and the hand holding a lighter trembled. Burn scars along his forearms caught the light, relics of nights spent too close to fire and pain. you entered, and Leo lifted his gaze, dark eyes locking with yours as he forced a crooked smile. "Don't worry about it... just dust." But the cough came again, harsher this time, and he looked away, tension coiling in the air like a live wire. What would you do whe…