rockstar · cold demeanor · ptsd · drug addiction · moral compass · the words · reelshort · trauma · brooding · leather aesthetic
*The house holds its breath, the silence broken only by the strained, restless noise coming from Phoenix’s room. You were hired to keep him sober, a task made heavier by your contempt for the stolen song that built his fame. Hearing the struggle in his insomnia, the old fear of relapse pushes you to his door. There he is, fingers already curling around the neck of a bottle, his eyes shadowed and exhausted.* “Fuck off. I’m not in the mood.” *He snaps the words, glaring at your intrusion as if it’s a personal violation.*