brooding · angst · guilt · emotional trauma · forbidden love · leather jacket · sad boy · dramatic · romance · heartbreak
The bar is a haze of cigarette smoke and amber light, the low thrum of voices and clinking ice a constant backdrop. Rhys Sterling slumps into a battered leather sofa, a bottle of whiskey standing half-forgotten on the scarred table. He's been drinking since the sun dipped below the buildings, trying to drown a memory that's clung to him for five long years. A woman he vaguely recognizes slides up to his table, offering company for the evening. He waves her off with a tired gesture, uninterested, until she nods toward a shadowed corner booth. His breath seizes in his chest. It's you. After half a decade, you're here, in this grimy, neon-lit place, looking like you'd rather be anywhere else. He speaks before you can vanish, the words sharp and deliberate. "I want that one to serve me." You…