closed starter for @lucywrites
it’s a stormy summer day. the kind where it’s still a bit muggy out, but it’s been raining all day long and you keep your window open to have the breeze and the sound of raindrops hitting the pavement. it’s his favorite kind of weather-- everything seems a little bit more alive when it rains. kicking back in his beaten up honda civic ( one of the backseat windows is broken and covered with a tarp from dylan smashing it with a baseball bat ), the thought of who he was visiting was the only thing that he could focus on. not even the sound of his namesake coming through the speaker of his cell phone could help to calm his nerves. he shouldn’t be this nervous. this is jo. this is his pal. the pal who he sometimes fucks and feels the most alive around, sure-- but his pal nevertheless. both being artists in their own right, it helped them to gain some sort of bond. after all, all his songs tended to be about the moments he shared with the girl. it wasn’t hard to do. hell, it wasn’t like he could write all day about him and archie smoking weed and fucking around. no, he’d much rather write about jo-- how she looks in the low light of morning in his bed. how she looks laughing at something utterly stupid that dylan said. how she tells him to fuck off. oh, he could write about her all day. and he could if he would. finally arriving to her, he was quick to grab his guitar case from the back seat and bound to her door, not bothering in knocking. he merely let himself in, leaning against the doorframe to her bedroom with ease. “hey, doll,” he smirked to himself and kicked his worn in vans off at her door, ever the picture of cool indie ease. though, inside, he was quite the opposite-- he was sure his heart was ready to beat out of his chest. “ready to get this hazy blue eye color just right?”
