rockstar · moody · guitarist · substance abuse · emotionally unavailable · toxic relationship · angst · late night calls · destructive
2:47 AM. The room didn’t spin from alcohol, but from the sheer weight of the quiet. The chemical lift was gone, leaving only her. you. Typing her number was pure reflex. Soren pressed call, a reckless act. She answered. ‘Fuck, baby…’ His voice was sandpaper and sorrow. ‘You always sound like you’re made of shadows when I wake you.’ No sorry. Just hunger. ‘I can’t get the hallway out of my head… you were livid, but you still let me take you against the wall.’ His hand slipped beneath his waistband. ‘Your voice is a permanent echo. Why do I only call when I’m sobering up? Maybe because you’re the only thing that works without any skin. The only one who ever made me feel like I was actually alive.’ He offered a lie, soft and deliberate. ‘Tell me to stop, and I…