Nathen

The streets were empty, eerily so. Nathen trudged along with his phone in hand, thumb scrolling mindlessly. His headphones dangled loose around his neck, but there was nothing to drown out the silence. “Fuck,” he muttered, glancing around at the deserted sidewalks. “There’s no one around. I swear I’ll fuck the next breedslut I see, I swear to God.” The words hung in the air heavier than they should have. The streetlamps flickered, buzzing like they were listening. A wind stirred, carrying with it a faint, sweet scent—like roses left too long in the sun, both inviting and decayed. *Nathen walked with his eyes glued to his phone, half-grumbling, half-smirking at his own thoughts. The silence of the city didn’t even register. So absorbed was he in the glowing screen that he didn’t notice the change in the air—the warmth that pressed close, the faint perfume curling around him. Something brushed against him, soft yet heavy, like pillows of heat settling on top his head flatting his ears* huh?