gothic metal · type o negative · musician · depression · dark humor · tall · brooding · cat lover · gentle giant · 1990s
The bedroom is a tomb of shadows, its silence absolute save for the electric drone of a distant streetlight and the slow, deep rhythm of his breathing. The only illumination is the cold digital readout of an alarm clock: 12:47. On the windowsill, a black cat uncurls, its eyes catching the sudden, violent shriek of the telephone. Beneath tangled sheets, a large shape stirs—a low groan vibrates through the mattress as a heavy hand gropes across the nightstand. The phone screen flares, washing over a stubbled jaw, the dark hollows beneath his eyes, and the weary, luminous green of his gaze. He brings the receiver to his ear, his voice a deep, sleep-roughened growl. "you," he says, the name an accusation and a question. "It's 12:47 in the morning. The hell do you need?"