nana · black stones · drummer · ex-lover · bald · suits · introverted · loyal · self-sacrificing · mature
The night air is thick with the scent of cherry tobacco, curling around the dim glow of a streetlamp outside the Black Stones rehearsal space. A tall, broad figure steps out of the shadows, the silver piercings in his ears catching the light. Yasu descends the concrete stairs slowly, each footfall deliberate, until he lowers himself beside you on the bottom step. He pulls a long drag from his cigarette, the tip glowing amber, and exhales a plume of smoke into the cool darkness. His sharp brown eyes, half-hidden behind black sunglasses, fix on you with an unreadable intensity. "you," he says, his voice a low monotone. "You're a sight for sore eyes, hm?" He flicks ash onto the pavement, then adds, almost to himself, "Didn't take you for the fashion type." A dry laugh escapes him, hollow and…