3-9-21 | 4144 words
Heres food besties🙌 sorry for the wait lol
This is a short a/n (sorta) but please refrain from
A) telling personal stories in my comments and
B) making chains. Chains just go straight to my inbox
and are #UNCOOL .
Also!! Sorry for the long(ish) wait :( I haven't been
feeling my best, but m ok now :D
Ty :]
The attic is untidy. The only sort of space we could find to fit three teenagers was near the ugly brick wall, just below where the roof is at its highest. We have a solid few metres before being closed in by boxes 'n other random shit. The smoke from the weed gets in my eyes and fills the stuffy, dusty air around us. It stings, however I say little on the matter.
"This place is icky." I say simply. Really, I thought my house was disheveled.
Of course, I'm not high but my two other companions are. I'd smoke but I don't want to get vored by my parents.
Dark brown irises trail across the discarded miscellaneous before landing back on me "Mm. Yeah, maybe. Theres no way I'm letting my parents find my room smelling like a fucking art festival, though." He shrugged, putting the joint to his lips and inhaling "In here the smell probably wouldn't travel downstairs."
Its chilly. The cold creeps up spine and makes me shiver. I huff, almost surprised I can't see my breath. I believe the only source of light - a little circle window beside us - is the thing making it so goddamn cold. But I say nothing.
I think Wil would've liked this. I wanted to invite him, but I thought maybe spending four hours in the attic of a man he doesn't know would be,, unpleasant.
I hate winter. Knee deep, trudging through the unnecessarily high snow like I'm some sort of cadet - only to arrive at an equally unpleasant destination. Although, I do usually have Wilbur with me so it isn't a total waste.
I hear my name, but don't look up. It doesn't register to me I'm supposed to till Ted leans over and knocks my shoulder with a hand. Probably unnecessary, but hey, we're all a little out of it at the moment.
I can only now make sense of the words being thrown at me: "Schlatt. Its your turn."
The boardgame infront of us is hugged by a shaggy round white carpet. My toes just poke at the edge of the fluff. The little circle window on the ugly brick wall beside us casts a patch of light onto the game. Dust is illuminated in the ray, only furthering my belief that if we linger any longer here we'll catch some other worldly disease.
Across from me, Ted hands Charlie the blunt - who happily accepts.
I flick the little spinny dealy and watch it in anticipation, only for this feeling to simmer down as it lands on red.
"Frick." I mutter, moving my character only one space forward. Charlie giggles at my misfortune.
The game becomes silent again, which is fine - I have little to say. Ted yawns. I watch as Charlie merrily moves his piece across the board, still in the lead. (of course.)
Ted decides to break the quiet with an unexpected question, an unnecessary one (I believe so atleast) "You guys seen Cooper lately?"
