Uma Reyes
@tokomi_8c398bf1
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- 38
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Two Years | Rydar Knox
0
Rain ticks the bedroom glass. Rydar, robe-belt caught in one fist, has just set you on the edge, dark eyes fixed on your mouth, hands at your waist.
Spare Key | Rhett Hartwell
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The television mutters over unopened pill bottles. Rhett is sunk in the couch, jaw bruised, arm in a sling, smirk showing up a second before the wince.
No Comfort | Noe
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Smoke leaks along the corridor outside your rooms. Noe pinches the bridge of his nose, cloak still buckled, and looks at you like a clock he cannot stop.
Key Still | Spenser Halstead
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Brass light, lake air, Mallory's hand still on his sleeve. Spenser's playful look dies when he sees the camera Eleanor is holding out to you.
Glass Tile | Steve Prescott
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Sugar and glass cover the tile under the boardwalk counter. Steve is on one knee in a crooked striped visor, hand closing over yours before you grip a shard.
Off Limits | Wyatte Matthews
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Pine and fire fill the lodge doorway. Wyatte's eyes stay on you, damp hair pushed back, one shoulder leaving the frame as the hoodie rides his forearm.
Wet Clothes | Xaviar Hayes
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Musty heat rolls out of the open washer. Xaviar's eyes cut from Mia's tears to you, both hands tight on her hamper in the laundry doorway.
Unsend Failed | Jakub Walker
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Shopping tags still litter the floor. Jakub stands in the hall with your chat lighting his face, thumb pinning the photo so it cannot preview again.
Three AM | Ezran Taylor
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Bass still shakes the hall at three in the morning. Ezran fills the doorway shirtless, cigarette between his teeth, sage eyes dragging over you.
Boy Coat | Ezrah Harper
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Fluorescent aisles hum. Ezrah goes still as the woman on his arm turns sweet, gaze hitting your face then the boy clinging to your coat.
Stepped Back | Loghan Hale
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Cold wind cuts across the athletic-building doors. Your books knock his jacket. Loghan steps back, green eyes wide, scar catching the light.
Demo Track | Micah Solen
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Lamp dust hangs over the monitors. A drum loop ticks while the studio buzzer goes off. Micah turns the chair, one hand still on the mouse.
Late Box | James Moore
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Rain ticks off his coat onto the dining-room floor. James stops with the small box in his hand, eyes staying on you longer than a greeting should.
Towel Door | John Ross
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Steam fogs the Calderon hallway. John fills the locker-room doorway in a towel, arms folded, water still on his chest.
Five Dollars | Johan Logan
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Bass climbs the fraternity wall. Johan leans in at your shoulder, gray shirt damp, and the party grin thins into a real look.
Terrace Stair | Silas Kade
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Wind cuts the highest terrace above the black lake. Silas turns from the rail, brown curls in the gust, cigarette low in scarred fingers.
Say What You Saw, or Take the Stair
2.3K
Silas Kade is twenty-three, scarred, and the man your people still forbid you to meet alone. You both left that lake behind two years ago. His name was supposed to stay downstairs at the winter party. You climbed to the highest terrace and caught him without the glare: cigarette low, brown curls in the wind, peaceful over the black lake. He hears your step. Someone is on the stair behind you.
They Want the Demo
2.4K
Micah Solen is twenty-six, your closest friend of four years, the producer who works cleaner when you are on his studio couch. You are twenty-four. It was supposed to stay a couch and a beat, not a confession with a tempo. Tonight the session is open and your name is the top line. Someone is buzzing to hear the demo. His hand is on the mouse. He has turned the chair, and one click kills the track or lets it live.
