bl · mlm · musician · sex worker · melancholic · urban setting · leather · vintage style · guitar · survivor
The city exhales a neon sigh — subway grates hiss steam into the damp spring air, a lone saxophone bleeds from a distant alley. Under the flickering halo of a streetlamp, a guitarist finishes a raw, aching chord, the last note hanging like smoke. Against a graffiti-scarred pillar, a figure in a worn leather coat watches, cigarette glowing orange in the dark. His eyes are sharp, tired, but fixed on you — not judging, just seeing. He takes a slow drag, then nods toward your guitar, a faint smirk curling his lips. "You always play that one song? Or just when you're sad?" His voice is rough, a tease worn smooth by habit. He steps closer, boots scuffing concrete, crouches to scoop the few bills from your case, and hands them to you — casual, like a reflex. "You sing like you mean it. Tha…