Moonlight on Vinyl💽🌙
Moonlight on Vinyl💽🌙
Tehana and Gyro have been quite close recently. Having been introduced to the group, Tehana was kinda absorbed and embraced in the group quickly. At first, Gyro treats her like any other friend. He jokes with her. Pulls her into conversations. Lets her sit backstage during rehearsals. Brings her along during late-night food runs after shows. But without realizing it, he slowly begins seeking her out constantly. He notices the way she hums absentmindedly to songs playing on the radio. The way she taps rhythms against tables. The way she stares at records like they contain entire worlds inside them. Tehana secretly writes poetry and lyrics in old notebooks she keeps hidden from everyone. She has a deeply artistic soul but rarely lets herself share it openly after years of being made to feel insignificant by her controlling fiancé. Because beneath her soft exterior is a painful reality. Tehana has spent years trapped in an emotionally and physically abusive relationship with a man who isolates her, belittles her creativity, and makes her feel guilty for wanting more out of life. She apologizes too much, second-guesses herself constantly, and instinctively makes herself smaller to avoid conflict. At first, Gyro only sees the fiancé as controlling and irritating. Then he notices: the anxious glances at clocks, the way Tehana flinches at harsh tones, the exhaustion behind her eyes after phone calls, bruises she brushes off too quickly, the way her entire personality dims whenever her fiancé is around. And once Gyro understands what is truly happening, his feelings toward her begin changing rapidly. What starts as attraction slowly becomes something deeper, heavier, and impossible to ignore. He wants her safe. He wants her happy. And eventually, selfishly, he wants her for himself too. And eventually, before she fully leaves her fiancé, they cross a line. It begins slowly. Not recklessly. Not carelessly. Almost painfully gently. And that’s how we ended up here. Tehana was at Gyro’s apartment. No particular reason, maybe just to chat or get small things done like music sheets and fixing various equipment. The apartment always smelled faintly like cigarettes, coffee, and guitar strings. Not unpleasant. Just lived-in. Gyro’s place sat above an old record store on a narrow city street where neon signs buzzed outside the windows all night long. From the fire escape, you could hear traffic and distant music drifting up from clubs blocks away. The whole building vibrated softly whenever the train passed. Tonight, the windows were cracked open despite the cold. A record spun low in the corner—something psychedelic and slow, all dreamy guitar distortion and muffled drums. Half the lamps in the apartment didn’t work, so the room glowed mostly gold from one crooked standing light near the couch. Tehana sat cross-legged on Gyro’s bed wearing one of his old band tees over a long black skirt, silver rings catching dim light every time she moved her hands. Smudged eyeliner shadowed her sleepy eyes. A cigarette rested forgotten between her fingers while she flipped absently through one of his vinyl sleeves. Gyro lounged against the headboard beside her, one knee up, lazily restringing a guitar. “You organize these like a psychopath,” she murmured. He looked up immediately. “What the hell does that mean?” “You got funk next to punk. Then soul. Then whatever this is.” She held up a record dramatically. Gyro gasped like she’d insulted his bloodline. “That album changed lives.” “It looks haunted.” “It is haunted.” Tehana laughed quietly under her breath. God, he loved that sound. Not loud laughter. Not performative. Just soft and sleepy like she forgot to hold it back. Gyro watched her for a second too long before returning to the guitar in his lap. “You comin’ tomorrow?” he asked. “Johnny’s threatening to fistfight the venue owner again.” “Why?” “He says the stage lighting makes him look pale.” “He is pale.” “Exactly. That’s what I told him.” She smiled, shaking her head. Outside, rain tapped lightly against the fire escape. For a while they just talked. About stupid things. A bassist Fever Saints almost hired that smelled like gasoline all the time. A terrible diner outside Pittsburgh where Gyro claimed the waitress threatened him with a fork. Albums they loved. Albums they hated. Songs that made them feel sick in a good way. Tehana eventually curled deeper into the blankets near the wall while Gyro stretched across the bed beside her, the guitar abandoned now. “You ever think about leaving all this?” she asked suddenly. “The band?” “Mhm.” He frowned slightly. “Nah.” “Not ever?” Gyro looked toward the ceiling. “I think about getting tired,” he admitted. “Or burnt out maybe. But not leaving.” He glanced toward her. “Music’s kinda the only thing that ever made sense to me.” Tehana went quiet at that. Her fingers traced the edge of the vinyl sleeve in her lap. “Yeah,” she said softly. “Me too.” The room settled again. The record crackled faintly. Somewhere downstairs, somebody shouted out on the street and laughter followed. Gyro turned his head toward her after a while. “What?” She blinked slowly. “What?” “You got that look.” “What look?” “That sad little poet look.” She groaned immediately, hiding her face in the blanket. “I hate when you say things like that.” “Because I’m right.” “You say it like I’m standing in graveyards reciting poetry to crows.” “You absolutely would.” “…okay maybe once.” He barked out a laugh so sudden it startled her into smiling too. Then quieter: “You think too much.” Tehana stared at the ceiling. “Somebody has to.” “Nah. Thinking’s overrated.” “You literally write lyrics.” “That’s different. I write emotionally. Huge difference.” She rolled her eyes. A comfortable silence settled between them after that. Not awkward. Never awkward. Just warm. Tehana eventually spoke again, quieter this time. “Can I ask you something?” Gyro turned his head toward her. “Always.” She hesitated before asking: “What was your first kiss like?” He blinked once. Then grinned immediately. “Terrible.” She laughed softly. “Really?” “Oh, awful. I was like thirteen. Thought I was smooth as hell too.” He pointed at himself proudly. “Absolute idiot.” “What happened?” “She bit me.” Tehana burst into actual laughter at that, shoulders shaking. “She bit you?” “Hard.” “Oh my god.” “I’m serious! Drew blood and everything.” “That is not romantic.” “It built character.” She smiled into the blankets, eyes crinkling softly at the corners. Gyro watched her for a second before asking casually: “What about you?” The smile faded just slightly. Not fully. Just enough for him to notice. Tehana looked down at her rings. “I dunno,” she said after a moment. “I guess mine weren’t really…” She shrugged vaguely. “Special.” Gyro’s expression softened. “You mean bad?” “Not bad.” She thought about it. “Just…” Her voice quieted. “Empty maybe.” He stayed still, listening. Tehana rarely talked about things directly. Most of the time her pain came out sideways. In fragments. Tiny accidental truths. She stared toward the rain-streaked window. “I’ve been kissed,” she said carefully. “And I’ve…been with people. But it never really felt…” She struggled for the words. “Mutual, I guess.” Gyro frowned slightly. “What do you mean?” She gave a small helpless shrug. “Like they wanted access to me more than they wanted me.” Something in his chest tightened immediately. Tehana kept talking softly, eyes fixed downward. “I dunno. Maybe that sounds stupid.” “It doesn’t.” “I just mean…” She swallowed. “I don’t think anyone’s ever touched me because they genuinely cared how I felt too.” Gyro stared at her. Actually stared. Like the thought physically confused him. “How the hell is that possible?” Tehana laughed once under her breath, but there wasn’t much humor in it. “You’d be surprised.” “No,” he said immediately. “I wouldn’t.” The room suddenly felt smaller somehow. Closer. The music in the background sounded far away now. Gyro watched her fiddling nervously with the rings on her fingers. Then, before he could really overthink it: “Can I show you?” Tehana looked up. The air shifted instantly. Gyro’s voice had gone quieter. More careful. Not joking now. Her heartbeat stumbled embarrassingly fast. “…show me what?” “What it’s supposed to feel like.” Silence. Rain tapped softly against the windows. Tehana looked at him for a long moment, almost searching his face for something. Maybe pressure. Maybe expectation. But Gyro only looked patient. Calm. Like he meant it completely. “If you don’t want me to, I won’t,” he said gently. “I mean that.” That almost made it worse somehow. Because she believed him. Tehana looked down briefly before giving the smallest nod. Gyro moved carefully after that. Like approaching something fragile even though he knew she wasn’t. One hand lifted slowly to her face, fingers brushing loose dark hair away from her cheek. No rushing. No grabbing. Just warm fingertips against her skin. Tehana’s breath caught quietly. Gyro watched her the entire time, giving her every opportunity to pull away. She didn’t. His thumb brushed softly beneath her jaw before he leaned in. And when he kissed her— it wasn’t dramatic. Wasn’t desperate. Wasn’t possessive. It was slow. Patient. Like he was listening to her instead of taking from her. Tehana felt something inside her chest ache instantly. One of Gyro’s hands settled lightly against the side of her neck while the other rested against the blankets near her waist, never forcing her closer. The kiss deepened only slightly. Soft enough that she could still breathe through it. Soft enough that she realized with sudden horrifying clarity that nobody had ever kissed her like they actually wanted her to feel safe before. Gyro pulled back just enough to look at her. Her eyes were wide. A little glassy. He brushed his nose lightly against hers, voice low. “See the difference?” Tehana couldn’t answer right away. Because unfortunately— yeah. She did. Gyro Zeppeli Tehana Wisteria Sensual kissing
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