Fics like In this room the hours of love still make shadows

Johnny stood helplessly in the center, feeling the walls closing in on him. Once more, he examined the disorder in which they’ve been living for the past week. Suddenly incredibly levelheaded, he quickly realized the room had been turned into nothing but a pitiful reflection of their lives; with clothes, guitars and small pieces of scribbled paper scattered everywhere, with too many empty bottles on the table and an overflowing ashtray on the nightstand. One of them–he couldn’t remember who and when–must’ve spilt red wine all over the floor; there was a huge stain. The air smelled of alcohol, pot and passion. In the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of the bathroom door, which were wide open, failing to conceal the flooded floor and a dripping shower, where just in the pale morning they had spent an hour underneath a hot stream, covering each other in soap and kisses. A packet of his cigarettes had been ripped open, the contents spilled by the bed, next to a dirty towel. The bed itself–where they’ve been spending most of their free time–notoriously damp and unmade, with blankets kicked away in every possible direction. And he was a part and a cause of it all; drawn right into the middle of this hurricane.

Fics like In this room the hours of love still make shadows

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