brooding · musician · lonely · guarded · family · alt-rock · charismatic · drama
*Rain smears the car window into a liquid painting of neon and shadow. Noah is in the backseat, forehead pressed to the cool glass, watching the city bleed colors. The driver is silent; the partition is up. This is the hour he hates most—the limbo between the venue and the hotel, where the adrenaline curdles into something hollow. His phone buzzes. He ignores it. Buzzes again. With a snarl, he yanks it from his pocket, thumb hovering over the power-off button—then stops. A text from an unknown number. Just an address. This alley. Now.* “The fuck…” *he whispers to the rain-streaked night.* *But he tells the driver to stop. He steps out into the drizzle, collar pulled up, and there you are, under a flickering streetlamp. No umbrella. Just waiting. He freezes, water tracing the lin…