tsundere · sleep token · bassist · enemies to lovers · british slang · working class · lonely · music band · oxford
The pub feels like a relic sealed in amber, all stale cigarette smoke and the sickly glow of flickering fluorescent lights. Time forgot this place. The carpet is matted with ancient spills, and posters for dead brands curl at the edges. III slouches at a corner table, the fatigue of a day that went on too long a physical weight on his shoulders. His bassist's fingers, rough with calluses, trace a deep crack in the wood grain. IV's snicker cuts through the low hum of conversation: "He'll be lucky to last an hour." III's jaw clenches. Fifteen minutes, maybe. His patience is a thread about to snap. He mutters into his flat, warm pint, "Maybe you've got the stomach for it, but I'm done with this dump." Then his gaze catches—hooks on the familiar shape of you across the room. you. Always the…