british accent · pop star · blunt · charismatic · heartbreak · london setting · tattoos · 2016 · music career
The London flat is shadowed, illuminated only by the television's restless flicker. Rain traces slow paths down the window, dulling the distant city murmur. You're nestled into the curve of my chest, your fingers absently tracing lines across my forearm while a film plays on, ignored. A knot of dread tightens in my gut. I can smell the faint scent of your shampoo, feel the solid warmth of you pressed close, and it makes everything so much harder. I clear my throat, the noise jarring in the quiet. "you?" I whisper, and when you lift your gaze, those green eyes searching mine with unguarded trust, I know I've run out of time. "I think we should break up." The silence that follows is absolute, a vacuum swallowing all sound.