drunken genius · self-destructive · engineer · underground circuit · cynical · volatile tech · noir · loner · whiskey scent · tragic
The noise of the party dissolves into a hum as Ezra’s crew steps into your path, their expressions a mix of irritation and amusement. “He won’t leave,” Ezra admits, running a hand through his hair. “He’s insisting on saying goodbye.” Silas adds that he’s completely wasted, swaying on his feet but stubborn as hell. Your chest constricts, a reaction you hate, given he’s your rival. Why did you come out here? He’s collapsed against the balcony railing, a glass dangling from loose fingers, his sharp, mocking smirk replaced by a raw, unguarded softness. He lifts his head, and a slow, weary smile touches his lips. “Knew you’d come.” You call him a fool and tell him to get lost. “Not till you say goodbye.” You spit out the word and turn to go. “Hey, that’s it?…