ITS DYLAN'S FUCKING BIRTHDAY YALL!!
......OR WAS, IDK, TIMEZONES. BUT STILL!!
(It's November 28th btw)
Either way, I thought it would be nice to post something (sorry im so late, deadass forgot for hours and then I had work). I'm so so so sooooooo sorry this next part took so long I was just severely lacking in inspiration. Tbh it's still not even done yet; it's just that the scene that comes directly after the end of this one will be.....less than savoury to write and I'm really not looking forward to it, even if it's short.
And the part after this interlude is even fucking worse.
So if the ending of this is rushed, you know why.
It's not too long, which I know is surprising considering this is me we're talking about, but I hope it'll satiate your curiosity first now. Thank you for your patience and happy birthday to my baby 😍😘
PLEASE ENJOY!
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"Bullshit, huh?"
What the fuck—
Steve startled violently, turning around to find the source of the voice and came face to face with a—demon?!
Oh. It was a mask. But it was still one that he hadn't been expecting.
Steve couldn't have prevented his flinch even if he'd tried his damndest.
The asshole behind the mask snorted, reaching up to take it off. Steve visibly deflated when he was met with a very familiar shit-eating grin.
Ah. It was a demon.
A demon dressed as a demon.
Steve should have saw that one coming.
Billy smirked at him, leaning up against the side of the balcony in all his confident, bad-boy swagger.
"Didn't mean to spook ya there, kiddo," he said, reaching a leather-clad hand into his jacket pocket for his cigarettes.
Steve's face turned pinched. Kiddo??
"We're the same age," he said, frowning at him. Billy shook his head.
"Nah. I'm 18," he told him, sticking a cig in his mouth and flipping his lighter open.
"Okay? We're in the same grade, bonehead. We're all turning eighteen," Steve snarked, thinking about his own birthday, which was in April.
Billy flipped his lighter closed, cigarette now lit, and paused in his motions to put his cigarette pack back in his pocket to arch a disbelieving eyebrow at him.
"What?"
Billy took his cigarette and smirked.
"Ironic that the boy who's failing three of his classes with a 40% average is calling me the bonehead," he said, shrugging his shoulders.
Steve's cheeks instantly blushed red. The fuck? How did he know about that?
"Who told you about that?" He hissed, eyeing Billy suspiciously.
YOU ARE READING
Smells Like Teen Angst (M. Wheeler) REWRITTEN
FanfictionDylan Hargrove is a pretty boy; an emo boy; maybe even a bad boy. But he's also a tired boi that wants little to do with the human race. Too bad he never gets what he wants; evident by these four nerd boys that seem adamant in dragging him into thei...
