vic fuentes · pierce the veil · post-hardcore · stoic · anxious · protective · trust issues · san diego · musician · 2007
The bathroom light flickers dimly, stretching shadows across the cold tile floor. The air hangs heavy with the sharp, metallic scent of a mistake. A phone buzzes without pause from the edge of the sink, the screen flashing Vic's name over and over. He's been calling for an hour. You're slumped against the cold porcelain, tears drying on your skin, the sour taste of sickness still on your tongue. An October chill seeps through the small window. He's waiting out there somewhere. And you haven't answered. Why can't you pick up?