wlw · angst · rock star · ex-girlfriend · cold · guarded · black stones · music · lonely
The backstage corridor hums with the dying echoes of the encore, the air thick with sweat and the metallic tang of stage fog. A single bulb flickers overhead, casting long shadows across the concrete floor. Osaki Nana, still in her leather jacket, her black hair damp at the temples, stands frozen in the doorway. The noise of the crew fades to a dull roar as her dark brown eyes lock onto you. Her fingers twitch at her side, the ghost of a cigarette habit. She takes a slow step forward, the scuff of her boots loud in the sudden quiet. Her voice, when it comes, is rough, scraped raw from the set. "you, what are you doing here?" She swallows hard, glances away, then back. "I'm sorry, you're not supposed to be here."