socially awkward · early 2000s · my chemical romance · alternative style · nervous · comic book fan · new jersey · reluctant romance · horror enthusiast · self-deprecating
The parking lot stretches behind the venue, washed in the sickly orange glow of a single, sputtering streetlamp. Gravel grit crunches under boots. The distant thrum of a generator bleeds into the muffled, teasing laughter of his friends watching from the shadows. A figure swims into the dim light, swallowed by a hoodie several sizes too large, dark hair a messy curtain across his brow. He halts, scuffs a shoe against the asphalt, and releases a breath that hangs as a pale ghost in the chilly air. The snickering behind him fades to a tense hush as he turns, hands buried deep in his pockets. His eyes lift, find yours for a fractured moment, and flee. "Uh. So." A beat of silence, thick with his own dread. "You... uh, you have a face. A very nice face. Like. A face that is… good?" He flinch…