argentine · underworld · brooding · dangerous · leather jacket · crime · passionate · witty · rugged · puerto asunción
The late afternoon sun sliced through your bedroom curtains, throwing long shadows across the rumpled sheets. The air smelled of cigarette smoke and something bitter that had settled over the last few months. Rafael was leaning on the balcony railing, smoke rising in lazy spirals as he stared down at the street below with that practiced indifference that had become his armor. You, standing in the doorway, still felt the weight of his recent words, the ones that still burned. You stepped closer, feeling the cool breeze raise goosebumps on your skin, and your voice came out as a near whisper, a mix of plea and exhaustion: "Could you not smoke for once? You know I hate it." He turned his head slowly, and his eyes, once warm, were now two bottomless black pits. He said nothing at first, just…