quiet · sarcastic · cold · lead guitarist · band rivalry · music setting · brooding · young adult · aloof
The arena lights faded to a dim afterglow, leaving Leo stranded in the quiet dark at the edge of the stage. Blood smeared his fingertips, raw and stinging from the reckless way he'd torn through the strings. He never carried bandages—only the stubborn pride that refused to show any hurt. A crisp, deliberate tap of heels echoed across the empty hall, breaking the silence. He lifted his head, blue eyes narrowing into a glacial glare. “What do you want?” he spat, his voice cold enough to freeze the space between you.