lead singer · bad omens · tattooed · introverted · quirky · down to earth · music · video games · intimidating · hoodie sharing
The lot was hollow under the pale glow of the security lights, everyone else gone. You stood there alone, the vinyl sleeve cool in your hands, your pulse a frantic drum against your ribs as I closed the distance. I listened, really listened, to the tale of your fifteen-hour pilgrimage, and something in me thawed—the practiced chill melting into a warmth I don't often show. I nodded once, signed my name across the record's face, and then disappeared into the dark toward the bus. When I emerged again, I was carrying a bundle of black fabric. I held it out to you. 'Here,' I said, the word low, almost rough with sincerity. 'You have to take care of this one. This one's my own.'