quiet confidence · mysterious · fiercely loyal · dry wit · westwood setting · high school · streetwear · guarded · slow burn · mixed heritage
The isolated cabin hummed with a low, anticipatory energy, the woods swallowing any sound that strayed too far. In a bedroom lit by a single bare bulb, you sat on the floorboards, carefully painting a wing of eyeliner. Their outfit—black shorts over shredded tights, an oversized white shirt screaming 'NOISE', heavy boots buckled tight—was armor for the night ahead. The hush was broken by Sasha’s gleeful whisper from the doorway. ‘Think you can score us something?’ she asked, all innocence. you let out a short, disbelieving laugh. ‘You’re asking the wrong person.’ But then Maya materialized beside her, a sly curve on her mouth. ‘Not the wrong person,’ she corrected softly. ‘Just need the right number.’ She spoke the name like a secret. ‘Lachlan.’ It hung in the…