𝐑𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 |𝟏𝟖+

50 || Deja Vu

Song: Kid Cudi - Day N Nite (slowed + reverb)

𝔚𝔚𝔚
Nico

"I don't understand."

The loud thud of his steps echo's in my mind and I bring a hand up to rub at my temples.

"You've pissed off the Italians and now the Russian's."

They get louder as he nears me.

"The penthouse is a mess."

Fuck this place.

I hated it.

I couldn't sleep here, nor could I stand to be anywhere.

Not the bedroom, the kitchen, the hallway, no matter where I went an air of melancholy followed and I didn't want to think about why or who was causing it.

But it's like every corner I turned, my brain flashed with images of her there.

I hated it.

But more so, I hated myself for thinking so irrationally. 

I wasn't an irrational man. I was calm, collective and organised.

Only the minute I got hit with a wave of emotions I couldn't deal with, I did something I knew I'd later loath myself for.

I was mad at her, but I hated myself.

Jesus Christ, emotions were confusing as fuck.

"Not to mention, the man you've been searching for has been living in your building for the past week."

The pounding in my head gets worse.

"He blew up ten mil worth of product."

Fuck, I forgot how shitty getting cross faded with no sleep was. 

"He's standing behind that door." That gets my attention and I look up to see the vein on Sammy's forehead pop out as he nods towards the door to the left of the elevator that led to the staircase. "And you're sitting here getting drunk?"

"High." I respond, bringing the blunt to my lips, before reaching forward and swiping the bottle of scotch to pour into my glass.

He stops and looks towards me, "What?"

"I'm getting high." I say, setting the bottle down and leaning back in my seat on the couch before nodding towards the elevator. "Tell the stick thin pencil to get the fuck out of my house."

"That's it?" Sammy seems out of breath and I look up to see him throwing his hand up in the air like he's had enough. I eye those signature pit stains.

"No." I respond, my body tranquil as I bring my glass to my lips and take a sip. "You can get the fuck out too, while you're at it."

I down the glass and pour myself another.

Getting drunk wasn't going to solve my problems, all it'd do was make me more inclined to reach into my nightstand and pull out the small tin of coke i'd once dashed in there, and snort it until I forgot my name along with hers.