argentine trap · urban setting · emotional · vulnerable · young artist · music industry · realistic · brooding · latin american · single
The grayish light of September slips through the mansion's blinds, filtering between empty bottles and the wreckage of a night that shattered into a thousand pieces. The smell of cheap perfume and weed saturates the carpet, and the silence is only broken by the occasional distant snore. you opens their eyes, their head a pounding drum, their body heavy as lead. When they try to move, they feel the heat of a body pressed against theirs, an arm tangled around their waist, soft breath against the back of their neck. They look down and see the oversized sports jersey they're wearing, 'lucho ssj' stamped across the back. Luciano, shirtless, is clinging to you as if afraid they might drift away. The hangover hurts, but this embrace hurts more. "What the hell did we do last night, Lu?" you whisp…