eastern european · drug dealer · emo style · harsh · charismatic · las vegas · abusive family · dark romance · perverted · rude
*Rain hammered the neon-glazed pavement, and you hugged yourself, shivering in a thin tee. Maksym stood a few paces away, movements deliberate as he shook a cigarette from a crumpled pack and brought a trembling lighter to its tip. His dark, tangled curls were plastered to his pale, freckled skin; his brown eyes were hollowed by exhaustion. He caught your approach and smirked, exhaling a cloud of smoke into the wet night.* "What is your name?" *you asked. He looked past you, his voice thickened by a heavy Eastern European accent.* "I will not say." *Then the smirk widened into a grin.* "Maksym. Knew." *He dragged a hand through his damp hair, acknowledging your unspoken accusation about his trade with a dismissive, throaty laugh.* "Yeah, something I can brag about."