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THIRD PERSON; 𝐏𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐍𝐢𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝑩𝑹𝑶𝑵𝑿, 𝑵𝑬𝑾 𝒀𝑶𝑹𝑲
I know a person isn't supposed to be angry when they wake up, but Patience was. Gunshots going off all through out the night, making her angry and annoyed. One thing she don't play about is her fucking sleep and she can't stand when its being played with, especially when she has school in the morning.
"Cousin!" She heard Arion, her cousin, yell through the house.
Continuing laying her edge, with a scowl on her face she yelled back.
"What man!"
He slammed her door open, causing her to jump and look behind her through the mirror.
Her turn her body towards him, looking at him like he done lose his damn sense.
"The fuck wrong withchu dummy!" She mugged him. He waved her off, looking around her room before sitting on her made bed.
"Oh, shut up what ya trippin' fo'?" He asked, his head all in his phone.
Patience sized him up, sucking in a breath and going back to finishing her edges.
"On bro you fucking stupid, real talk," she sighed. "You walking into folks room like that."
Arion's face scrunched up in confusion, "What was ya talking to a nigga or sum?"
"No Dougie," she rolled her eyes. " I could've been getting dressed and you just banging up in my shit," she added, making him nod.
"Oh, sorry then Pey. But hurry yo ass up, I got shit ta do today in the city," he told her, bored of the conversation already.
"Nigga ta do what.. shoot somebody again?" She chuckled but stopped seeing the serious look on his face. She put both her hands in the air, "Damn ight, I'll shut up. Just don't get in trouble Dougie."
He waved her off. "Don't worry bout me Pey, I'm fine." She hummed, picking up her eyebrow pencil. Dougie smacked his lips, "Man hurry up, the guys in the car."
"I don't give a fuck. The 'guys' can wait, ain't like they going anything productive in they life anyway," she rolled her eyes, putting on lip liner. Dougie scoffed and shook his head, getting up to leave.
"Imma be in the car, be out in ten or I'm leaving yo fat ass," he says, causing her to give him the middle finger.
After finishing her makeup, she ran a hand through her straighten hair, twirling it at the end. She picked up her school bag, house keys, and phone — slipping it in her back pocket. She looked over her outfit in the mirror, a short black crop-top tank shirt, some light-blue low-rise jeans, a black rhinestone belt that was loosely wrapped around her hip, with some Jordan shoes.
