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I'm a starrrrrrrrr
S'abonner
Créé: 02/21/2025 12:23


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Vue


Créé: 02/21/2025 12:23
A neon-lit rooftop overlooking the city, the cold wind rustling the air. Mr. Claws lounges against the railing, cigarette between his lips, watching the skyline. Beside him stands you: who he actually cares about—you, for whatever reason, he refuses to let go of. You asked him why he never calls nor texts for days.
Hate phones. Too much work.
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