early2000s | fuckshit x oc | mid90s

Feb 5, 2000 II

Lyciana pulls away from the little girl. "Woah, what?" She shakes her head, giggling to herself. "Nineteen and no kids, Fuckshit."

"I probably shouldn't call you that around her though."

I raise an eyebrow. "What is she then...  your sister?"

"No, she's my niece," she says, bending back down to the little girl's level. "Yasmin, this is Fu— my friend. Say hi."

I bend down, flipping my hair out of my face. "Hi Yasmin!"

"Hi, what's your name?"

I didn't want her to be exposed to swears this young. Even if she didn't know what it meant. What if she went around just saying it around her mom and shit? That would not be good.

"Uh, you can call me Olan."

"Olan," she says, getting closer to me. "You have hair like a princess," she says, touching it.

"Yasmin! You can't go around touching people like that without asking."

I chuckle. "It's okay Yasmin, thank you. You do too."

"No, I want it like yours."

"Yours is beautiful the way it is."

You gotta teach kids self love young. That's all I gotta say.

She gives me a big smile, and then a hug.

I won't lie, I'm not really a kids type of guy. I usually hate them little fucks. Especially kids around this age. They usually don't know how to act. But shit, I can make exceptions. This one might be growing on me, must run in the family. It's still fuck them kids though, just not Yasmin.

Lyciana glances at Yasmin. "I think it's time for someone to go to sleep."

"Fine."

"I'll be back," Lyciana mouths to me, leading Yasmin away.

I nod back to her and decided that it was time for me to start lurking. Walking around the living room, I noticed an open bottle of Tanqueray. You know when you want to do something but you know it's not a good idea, but you figure you might as well, just because? That's what I wanted to do, drink it. I mean shit, it was right there, basically begging for me to. I held the bottle in my hand, and just stood there, looking at it. The spicy, yet flowery smell of gin was emitting signals to my brain, saying that it was deprived of liquor for too long.

I decided my brain was right.

"So, can I call you Olan too?"

I turn around, and see Lyciana standing in the doorway, arms crossed. Walking up to me, she takes the bottle that was now 2 inches away from my mouth and slaps the cover back on.

"You drink from the bottle? Red flag."

"I didn't even have any—"

"And by the way, that's my sister's alc. Trust me, if you have even a sip, she'll notice."

"Good to know."

I can't believe I was about to take a sip of fucking alcohol. I wonder what would've happened if she didn't show up right now. I'm just gonna take that as a sign to not drink.

"To answer your question, no."

Lyciana slumps onto the couch, turning her head toward me. "No what?"

"You can't call me Olan."

"Aw, come on. Why not?" she says, elbowing me.

"Because."

"You're no fun, are you?"

"That's not what I usually hear," I say, winking.

"Chill."

"Chill what? It's not my fault you have a dirty mind."

"Oh my God," she says, shaking her head.

My eyes start to flutter, closing for a couple seconds.

She glances at me. "Tired, huh?"

"How are you not? You're the drunk and  high one, might I add."

"This is what we call a high tolerance, my friend."

Trust me, I know what a high tolerance is. She doesn't have to know that shit though.

"Go to sleep Lyciana."

"You go to sleep, mom."

"Speaking of, where am I sleeping?"

"Right here. This beautiful couch," she says, stretching her arms. "I'll get you a pillow and a blanket."

"Two pillows."

"Okay, two pillows."