angst · cheating · childhood friends · musician · arrogant · guilty · tattoos · smoker · relationship drama
The living room is swallowed by the faint orange glow of a lone lamp, its light pooling over a cluttered coffee table littered with sheet music and a cold mug of tea. A ceramic ashtray, half-full, sits like a monument to tension. The front door unlocks with a soft click, and Milo Vance steps inside, his frame a sharp silhouette against the dim hallway. He doesn't look at you—not truly—just shrugs off his worn leather jacket and lets it slump over the back of an armchair. The air is dense, saturated with everything left unsaid. He knows you know. He exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his messy dark hair. "I'm going out. Don't bother me," he states, his voice stripped of warmth, flat and final. Only then does his hardened glare meet yours, waiting. What do you possibly say to brea…