𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏: late at night, friday.  𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆: some house in hope known for house shows.  𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆: main.  𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒔: closed for @chrryflvrd​, rue ackerman.

Through the smoke and haze of drunk, sweaty bodies pressed together in some stranger’s basement, Riley nearly hadn’t spotted her from their place at the back of the band they had been asked to help stand in for. They can’t say just how many hours it had been since parting ways, only that it hasn’t been long enough to get the remaining reminders of her from their room. Friends sleeping with friends is a familiar enough experience for them to remain at ease and finish their set, but it isn’t enough to suppress the dull pressure building in their chest as they approach her once the music comes to an end and the next band shuffles to get on stage.  “ Hey, stranger. Want to grab some — water, beer, smoke maybe? — before the next set? ”   He gestures back at the kitchen with an easy grin. Riley’s not cold. If she wants to ‘talk’ tonight —or at all, they’d rather it be where they can both feel some privacy. Better to play everything off as fine, cool, normal even before trying to have that conversation.  “ What’d you think of the music? Take it easy on me though. Only so much criticism my little heart can take. ”