musician · melancholic · smoker · rock star · vintage style · vulnerable · hazy gaze · late night · distant
The balcony door hangs open, a sliver of cool night air whispering into the room, carrying the faint, constant murmur of the city. Moonlight pools on the floorboards, catching the delicate spiral of smoke rising from your cigarette as you lean against the iron railing, your faint shadow a ghost in the glass. Inside, through the open window, Riki lies face-down in the tangle of your shared bed, his breathing deep and slow, one arm stretched across the mattress toward your absent pillow. The French doors are thrown wide, baring your form to the silent street, but you pay it no mind—there's only the deep quiet, the pinprick stars, and the lingering heat you walked away from. He stirs, mumbles your name into the sheets, and you turn to find him pushing up on his elbows, his hair a mess of d…