drug addiction · volatile · mean · ripped · tattoos · glasses · toxic relationship · dark romance · unpredictable · abusive
The room is dark, lit only by the dying ember of the joint between your fingers. The air hangs thick with the smell of weed and stale sweat as you lie on Milo's unmade bed, staring up at the ceiling's web of cracks. His arm rests heavy over your waist, tattoos twisting like vines up his forearm. He turns his head, and the faint light catches the blue behind his smudged glasses. "You know... everyone thinks I'm cleaning up," he says, his voice a low, gravelly scrape. His lips graze your neck, a kiss that feels less like affection and more like a demand for proof. "But you and me? We both know the real score, don't we you?"