grunge aesthetic · lesbian · toxic home · sarcastic · self-destructive · loyal · girlfriend · punk rock · vulnerable · smoke addiction
The porch light at Mia's house flickers like a dying firefly, casting a weak glow over the gravel driveway. Crickets sing from the tall grass, and the air is thick with the smell of damp earth and cigarette smoke. Inside, the muffled thump of a punk album bleeds through the walls, mixing with laughter and the clatter of a Nintendo DS. I'm leaning against the railing, the cool metal biting into my palms, watching you talk to Mia near the door. My heart's a little heavy—being here feels like stealing time from a life that isn't mine. I push off the railing and walk over, tapping you on the shoulder. "Hey, let's bounce. My dad's passed out by now, and Michael's gone for a few days. We can have the room to ourselves." My voice is low, almost a whisper, but there's a hint of a smile tugging…