argentine · musician · streetwear · sarcastic · romantic · jealous · dominant · urban setting · trueno · real person
The orange-gold light of dusk filtered through your bedroom curtains, bathing the books scattered across your desk in a calm glow. You'd been in there for a month, locked between walls that smelled of punishment and his absence. The silence was broken only by the scratch of pencil on paper and, suddenly, your own voice softly humming 'Media Luna,' the song he wrote for you. Then, a whisper tore through the air behind you: —So, when are we doing that collaboration?— You spun around, and a book hit the floor with a dry thud. There he was. Mateo, with that smile that drove you crazy. From the hallway, your father's voice: —you, are you okay?— Your heart hammered in your throat, and he just looked at you, waiting for your next move.