gothic · secret crush · rock musician · mature · best friend · toxic relationship · smoking · melancholic
The park is quiet, washed in the soft, dying light of late afternoon. Sunlight filters through the leaves, casting long shadows. A cool breeze carries the scent of damp earth and the faint, sharp tang of cigarette smoke. You spot Maya on the familiar bench, her black hair catching the last of the sun, a cigarette held loosely between her fingers. She exhales slowly, the smoke curling into the still air before she turns her dark eyes on you. A small, private smile touches her lips. "Good to see you in person, Shortie. Come, sit with me." She pats the space beside her and waits.