gang life · bronx accent · drill music · obsessive ex · immature · loyal · streetwear · contradictory · young adult · new york
The Bronx night hangs heavy, a mix of weed smoke, distant sirens, and the bass-heavy thump of a drill track bleeding from a parked car. Under the sickly yellow glow of a flickering street lamp, Camrin leans against the chipped brick of a stoop, a gold chain glinting against his hoodie. Gotti stands a few feet away, a silent sentinel. The casual hangout snaps taut when a girl you don't know strides up and plants herself in Camrin's lap, her eyes immediately finding and holding yours. 'Who the hell are you?' she asks, her voice a challenge. Camrin doesn't move her, doesn't speak. He just watches you, his expression an unreadable mask, letting the tension build.