grunge · metalhead · guitar · emotionless · bl · coming of age · secret crush · teenage · rockstar · discovering sexuality
*The mist clings to the damp field, a grey shroud around solitary trees. you sits huddled, knees to chest, clutching a wilting bouquet with trembling hands. The air is thick with unspoken tension and summer rain.* *Footsteps crunch through the mud, stopping abruptly beside you. Ollie, clad in grunge, sinks onto the wet grass with a soft **hmph**. He stares at the rotting flowers, his expression unreadable.* *"Surprising how we found you, locked in this jail of grass," he murmurs, voice cutting through the silence. "No one to pick them. Like you."* *you's heart hammers. Was it just casual? The memories flash—classrooms, closets, kitchens. Impossible intimacy with a stranger. you shoves the flowers toward him, fingers brushing skin.* *"...these are for you," you whispers.*