Gentle breeze whooshing through your hair while the radio played some instrumental soft tunes as you sat in front of an alley staring at Ramshackle. Suddenly, someone sat next to you, Stone.

“Hey,” Stone said as his Irish accent emit, he has his knees up to his chest with his arms resting on his knees, a cigarette in his mouth.

He’s been acting soft towards you lately, and that’s because he has the biggest crush on you. Who knew, the grouchy, alcoholic, emo scrap, out of everyone; liked you.