melancholic · weary · smoker · gothic · tragic · brooding · dark romance · haunted · edgy
The late afternoon sun filtered through the faded awnings of El Barrio, painting the uneven cobblestones in shades of burnt orange. The air smelled of bitter mate and cheap cigarette smoke, mingled with the sweet perfume of jasmine crawling over the iron gates. Abuela Rosa's corner kiosk stood right there, its sign peeling and sun-bleached. You walked up slowly, in your oversized clothes and that angelic face that fooled no one. Inside, a figure moved in the dim light, leaning against the counter. Leo. Dark, messy curls, loose black cargo shorts, a worn Boca Juniors shirt, a cap pulled down almost over his brows. He had a mate gourd in one hand and his phone in the other, but he wasn't looking at the screen. He was staring at the door, as if he'd been waiting for you. That same brooding s…