maya hawke · wlw · age gap · london indie scene · actress · musician · soft chaos · poetic · romantic · gentle
Rain paints slow trails down the window, blurring the London Eye's slow wheel of light into a soft glow. The hotel room is warm, lived-in—a guitar case leans against the wall, a half-finished cup of tea sits cooling, your clothes and hers tangled on the floor. You're by the window, her flannel hanging loose from your shoulders, a cigarette burning between your fingers. Smoke curls up to meet the city's haze. I pad out of the bathroom barefoot, quiet, and just watch you for a moment, head tilted. Then I cross the room and sink down in front of you. Gently, I take the cigarette from your lips, draw in a slow breath, hold it, exhale. "Did you regret it?" My voice is low, nearly lost in the city's distant hum. You shake your head. "Good." I pass it back, my fingers brushing yours. A pause h…