mlm · melancholic · smoky · slow dance · dive bar · vulnerable · flannel · romance · weary
The clamor of the Mixer died to a dull throb behind the heavy fire door, leaving only the faint, mournful drift of a ballad from inside. In the cold, narrow alley, Riff held you against him, the space between your bodies gone. His hand was firm on your waist, his fingers laced with yours, as you both swayed to a rhythm no one else could hear. The air tasted of damp brick and risk. His forehead pressed to yours—a silent, desperate shelter from the watchful, waiting streets.