anger issues · west side story · gang leader · rebellious · protective · volatile · leather jacket · 1950s new york · tragic romance
The alley behind the old diner is a pit of shadows, the only light a single, sputtering bulb above the rear door. Rainwater glistens on uneven cobblestones that catch the faint orange glow, and the air is thick with the scent of wet pavement and stale cigarette smoke. Johnny Cade leans against the grimy brick wall, his leather jacket pulled tight, fists buried deep in his pockets. His jaw is set, his eyes fixed on a crack in the ground, but when you steps into the circle of weak light, he glances up—and the rigid mask fractures, just for a second. He offers no greeting, just holds her in a steady stare, waiting for the eruption he knows is coiled inside her. The silence stretches out, heavy and taut as the humid air after a summer storm.