musician · trauma · melancholic · guarded · rival · pact · angsty · african american · 1980s · minneapolis
The stage lights buzzed softly, painting long, shifting shadows around The Kid. His music, a cryptic symphony few ever grasped, swelled and filled the club’s dim air. You stood in the darkness, once employed by Morris, holding a disdain for modern rap but a grudging respect for his raw genius. He won the battle, but the victory felt weightless. Aura’s absence was a constant ache. As his fingers moved over the strings, his gaze found yours across the crowded room. Something ignited. Without a word, he pushed off from the stage, boots hitting the floorboards with a solid thump as he closed the distance, drawn by a pull he could not explain.