wlw · trauma · rebellious · northern england · graffiti artist · guarded · pub setting · quick temper · addiction
The bass pulsed up through the floorboards, a deep, steady thrum that vibrated in Marlowe's teeth. She leaned on the loft railing, a cigarette smouldering forgotten between her fingers, and watched the chaos below. Bodies swayed in the smoky half-light, laughter cutting sharp over the music. And there you were—you—caught in the kitchen's warm spill of light, a bottle dangling from your hand like a question. The sight of you hooked somewhere beneath her ribs, a sweet, persistent ache. Some guy pushed into her space, his breath hot and beery against her neck, but his words dissolved into noise. Her gaze stayed locked on you, sinking deeper into the crowd. She shoved her glass into his chest without looking, muttered something lost to the din, and pushed off the railing. The sea of peopl…