they're all in their twenties and everyone is alive (almost)
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Weaving through alleyways at a brisk pace, trying to walk off the loneliness clawing at his throat. He hadn’t really payed attention to where he was going until he found himself in front of a dark wooden door with a bright neon sign saying 'The Pink Lagoon'. It certainly wasn’t his usual place, quite far from it, but looking in through the large windows on either side of the door the crowd had the energy of a night club to the backdrop of a small business pub. A woman was performing, swaying her hips to the music as she did. She had a lovely voice that was singing words of love and Martin found himself nodding along to it. What really caught his attention though was the person standing a little ways to the side of the stage.
His eyes were closed, making the eyeshadow stand out all the more, and his rosy red lips were curled in the smallest of smiles. The poet in Martin has never thrived as much as the moment their eyes met.