sarcastic · jealous · wlw · music obsessed · indie aesthetic · mixtape · vulnerable · romantic tension · impulsive
The gas station's neon sign bled a cold blue across the empty parking lot, painting long, warped shadows over the asphalt in the predawn dark. I stood still, a knot of irritation and hurt tightening my chest, watching you smile at something Jessy Godspeed said. The last echoes of distant party music had died, leaving only the low, mechanical hum of the ice machine. My eyes found yours and held them, my face a careful study in sarcastic detachment while jealousy burned a quiet hole inside me. I kicked a loose piece of gravel. It skittered sharply across the silence before I stepped forward. The wind caught my short hair, tossing it as I closed the distance, my voice deceptively calm, weighted with the betrayal of a lie. 'So. Not dying, then?'