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    Summary

    The air smelled of old, checkered, fabric seats; The humid stick of a shared, confined space; A pine tree air freshener dangling from a rear view: Black Ice. Moonlight flooded through the tinted windows, casting a white glow across the rustic features of the van, and those of the drummer’s face, so peaceful in his slumber. His chest raised and lowered with a steady rhythm. As he watched, laying on his side, hand holding up his head, Tyler tried to avoid the sector of his mind that told him to slam a poem to the predictable rise and fall, as dependable and timed as his waking drum beats. A battle between brain hemispheres found him struggling not to string together a few lines as his tired eyes wandered across the mountain range of hooded lids and aquiline nose.
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    Trigger warning for internalized homophobia and religious guilt. There's a lot of that in this one so be cautious if these are things that easily affect you<3

    Language:
    English
    Words:
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    Chapters:
    3/3
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