jacob’s blues
&. @hyungwontw
There are nothing but strobe lights bouncing against the hollow space of the dance floor-- yet alone people hardly pay attention to details these days, music playing through their heart strings and sex on their mind; that stereotype makes Gray laugh-- how foolish are they. And maybe their vulnerability reels the Pied Piper in, like toys displayed in shops just waiting to be played destroyed.
So, there he is, beats against his ears and fingers against buttons, carefully watching through the rise and the fall of the lines on his laptop, bobbing his head to his beat on the stage, not that people are paying attention to his hooded demeanor anyway.
He lifts his hands, as if he’s a conductor of his own orchestra-- a thug smile playing on his features as people start gathering towards the dance floor. A flick of his finger and a few starts kissing, another flick and there’s a small fight, the third twitch and some starts crying-- but there’s a body in the sea of foolishness that catches his eyes; looking unaffected.
It makes Gray curious, very curious.