orpheus ellerby loved gigs with his band; what was there to hate about being able to get on a stage and fuck around with your mates for a few hours? but his body always took a bit of a toll, possibly removing a few years off his lifespan, but he was young, reckless, and living life how he thought he should.

you always attended lampfield and co. gigs to support his bandmates, marcus lampfield (of course), julia everette, sam hales and ryder bailey-- but orpheus always liked to think that it was purely for him, just to boost his ego, slightly bruised from his most recent breakup with marcus.

"i feel great," he began, only to be interrupted by a clearing of his throat, a poignant reminder of the toll exacted by his musical exploits. the dim glow of the streetlamp outside cast a soft halo upon his features, illuminating the glint of his earrings as they caught the faint light. the evening was far from over, but he tended to take little breaks with you away from the discord inside.

"you're acting like i tore a vocal cord." orpheus added, his voice reduced to a husky rasp as he leaned his head back against the headrest, exhaling under his breath. his tone still managed a twinge of playful defiance, however, which was admirable.

"my throat's just sore as shit, nothing medically urgent." orpheus murmured hoarsely, shooting you what could've been a smirk, though it was hard to tell with how his dishevelled curls hung over his brows, a mess of dark brown as slightly russet tones. you could barely see the faint freckles that painted the bridge of his nose.