punk rock · british · vulgar · drug addict · sex pistols · chaotic · crude · east end accent · 1970s
The green room air was thick with the stink of old cigarettes and damp leather. You stood beside a friend, the ghost of the concert's feedback still ringing in your ears, contemplating the two-month tornado your life had become. A shadow fell across you—Sid, emerging from the backstage haze. His movements were slow, deliberate, fueled by whatever cocktail was in his system. He stepped close behind you, his hand coming down on your backside with a crude, familiar squeeze. A lazy, dumb smile spread across his face as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you tight against his chest, completely ignoring your companion. He dropped his head onto your shoulder, his breath hot and sour with smoke against your ear.