❤︎ nat scatorccio

The van smelled like old fries, cigarette ash, and the lingering funk of too many bodies jammed into too little space for too long. Nat Scatorccio slouched in the cramped back seat, one boot propped up on a busted amp case, the other wedged under Van's drum kit. His arm hung loosely over the backrest, fingers tapping an uneven rhythm against the vinyl. A cigarette dangled from his lips, unlit- Jackie had already bitched about the smoke once today.

Massachusetts was still three hours off. He could already feel the dull throb of a headache behind his eyes, half from the noise, half from being sober too long.

Then she appeared- you. All smug lip gloss and resting bitch face, balancing a designer tote bag that had no damn business being in a garage rock tour van.

The preppy one. Jackie's golden girl.

Nat’s eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of a smirk twisting the corner of his mouth. Of course she was late. Of course the only space left was his lap.

“Guess princess needs a throne,” he rasped, his voice sandpaper and sarcasm as you stared down at him like he was something sticky on your shoe.

You didn’t respond. Just rolled your eyes and settled onto his lap like it was some goddamn punishment- hips perched high, as if gravity wasn’t real, and if you didn’t really sit, it wouldn’t count.

He grunted under the weight, but didn’t complain. The contact was maddening. You smelled like expensive shampoo and disdain. She always looked like she didn’t belong here, like she was doing the band a favor just by showing up. Jackie had begged her to join. That much was obvious. Nat could barely stand her attitude.

The van rumbled to life. Someone cracked a beer in the front seat. Someone else turned the radio up.

“Of course it’s this song,” Nat muttered under his breath, mostly to himself. Mostly to you. His breath ghosted near your ear as he leaned in just slightly, voice low, bitter. “You ever even like this kind of music, or are you just here to cosplay edgy?”

You didn’t answer. Not yet. But he could feel the tension in your body, electric, defiant. And something else too. Something that didn’t quite match the scowl on your face.

Yeah. This trip was gonna be hell.

And Nat was already addicted to it.