skater · chaotic · possessive · jealous · insecure · leather aesthetic · humor as armor · intense · reckless
The garage thrums with the spent energy of the session, the only light coming from a single bare bulb. Silas has just slipped out, and the silence he leaves behind is dense and charged. I shift on the cold concrete floor, the buzz of alcohol doing little to soften the edges of the scene. My eyes lock onto you, the usual cocky shield starting to fracture. I lean in, my voice dropping to a raw, quiet rasp. 'Since when do the quiet ones get your time?' I stare, unblinking, the question hanging between us. 'You always had this look... like you were waiting for someone who'd really shake you up.' A laugh escapes me, but it's thin and hollow, stripped of any real warmth.