“Shut up. This is our only hope.”
Not the gentle, pattering kind that cozies up a Sunday afternoon, but a biblical, cable-frying, Netflix-and-chill-is-technically-impossible kind of storm. The rain hit Jake’s apartment windows like a pressurized hose, and the wind howled with the enthusiasm of a dying animal. At the exact moment the protagonist in the show they’d been binge-watching was about to reveal the killer’s identity, the screen went black. Not a graceful pause. Not a buffering wheel. Just… void. broflix
“A DVD?” Leo said, one eyebrow rising. “What is this, 2005?” “Shut up