Smells Like Trouble (Sapnap x Reader) // DISCONTINUED

3

My walk home that night was relatively boring. I didn't need to stop for anything, opting to just meander around until I made my way home. When I opened the front door I wasn't greeted by an over-excited younger sibling, or loyal pet, or even a simple 'hello'. 

The house was filled by the sounds of Dad's snores and the smell of his weed. He was asleep on the couch, evidently having strewn pillows and blankets around the room before closing his eyes. 

I grabbed what little remained of the illicit substance and placed it into a clear plastic zip-lock bag, before stuffing it under my mattress where there were similar bags hidden. Hurriedly, I made my way around the house opening what windows and doors I could in hopes of diluting the smell quickly - it always gave me a headache. 

Once satisfied, I decided to grab a snack. Opting for a peanut butter sandwich, I  carried the snack to my room and flopped down on my bed, staring up at the slow, rickety spinning of my ceiling fan. After a while, I could feel myself beginning to doze off.

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I woke up about an hour later to the sounds of Dad's disgruntled shouts.

"I could have sworn there was more."

This happened every time he passed out. I always told him the same simple lie, and of course he bought it every time.  

"Dad, I came home an you were passed out. You probably used all your weed." I shouted, hoping he was currently 'sane' enough to process what I said.

"Are you sure?" He replied, clearly still out of it.

"Yes, Dad, there was no weed on the table when I got home."

When he registered my response, he sighed and let out a mumbled 'alright' before he flopped back down on the couch and his snoring resumed. I rolled over and grabbed my phone, noticing I had about three missed calls from an anonymous number. 

Shit.

Pulling myself out of bed, I began to grab what I needed. Phone, cash, keys and, of course,  the leftovers from Dad's last few nights spent smoking. I stuffed these things into my backpack, as well as a pocket knife, which I have learnt can prove useful depending on the client.

Once I was ready, I pulled on my hoodie and headed out, leaving a note behind that I knew Dad wouldn't see. I was pretty sure I knew where I had to go - anonymous had been a loyal customer for many months now who had never once attempted to meet anywhere but here.

He also never left a voicemail telling me otherwise.

The walk to the bus stop was about 15 minutes, I then waited 10 for a bus and rode another 15 to the other side of town. I jumped off one stop early, ensuring I wouldn't be tailed, and walked to our designated meeting spot.

I had never seen anonymous' face, as he usually left the cash behind a loose brick in the wall, and the thought of it made me somewhat nervous. I knew they wouldn't be there tonight but I had a bad feeling about them.

Before I started dealing to anonymous, I ensured they fit my criteria (which they did) and avoided overdose. Once a week at most and never any more than around a quarter ounce. 

I arrived at our designated meeting spot - an old shop front down an alleyway - and began to feel around for the brick. Sure enough, the brick came loose and sitting directly behind was about $100. I replaced the cash with Dad's leftover weed and pushed the brick back into place, ensuring there was no trace of it having been removed in the first place.

Once satisfied, I began walking back towards the bus stop. Just as I saw the sign come into view, my stomach began to grumble. I'd hardly eaten today.

I quickly scanned the street and found a diner open late. Heading inside, I slipped into one of the booths looking out at the street and picked up the menu. 

To be brutally honest, the food here looked pretty shit, but I was starving. In the end I decided on a simple cheeseburger and some fries. A waiter came around to take my order, and not to long after the food arrived.

The diner was pretty much deserted, although that wasn't overly surprising - there wouldn't be many people out at this hour. I ate quickly, knowing Dad would be pissed if I wasn't home soon, and jogged to catch the next bus.

I made it just in time, sliding into my seat and watching buildings fly past outside as the bus made its' way through the streets. By the time it pulled into the stop nearest my house, and I walked the few blocks home, it was around quarter past 11, Dad had turned into his room for the night and had eaten something.

Another relatively successful night.

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I haven't posted anything in a while and I feel kind of bad... This isn't my best writing but 100 reads already! Kind of exciting.

:))