"ɪ ᴄᴀɴ ꜱᴇᴇ ɪᴛ ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴇʏᴇꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ɢᴇᴛ ᴏᴜᴛ. ɪ ᴄᴀɴ ꜱᴇᴇ ɪᴛ ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴇʏᴇꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ɪᴛ ʀɪɢʜᴛ ɴᴏᴡ."
↳ Feeling as though her life had no meaning, her neighbor would be there to show her that there's so much she just hadn't exper...
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Credits: ??? If yk the artist lmk _______
The sound of cars occasionally passing by fills the silence between me and Choso. There's a noticeable space between us and I have the urge to speak to him but I won't.
My eyes become half lidded, puffing out out the smoke. I exhale before fixing my posture. The more I take, the more clouded my head becomes.
It's been a few minutes since we last talked, but I feel comfortable...surprisingly. It's dangerous to be out of touch with reality around such a sketchy guy, but he looks like he's becoming just as dazed.
"How old are you?" He asks. This time he looks at me with a hint of concern. He probably realized he could've just lit a cigarette for a minor. "19, it's fine." I reassure him. He raises an eyebrow, before humming in response. "You?"
"22. You're pretty young." The way he could say the most innocent sentence ever yet have the most seductive voice I've ever heard makes my mind spin. He's tall, fine, and his voice is just the cherry ontop. I feel so warm.
"You're pretty old." I joke, but he only shakes his head. "Don't be taking your daddies cigs." He taps the cigarette on the railing, ashes falling. I'm supposed to be offended but I crack a smile and look down at my slippers. "Shouldn't even be smokin' in the first place." He continues.
"So you're a narc now?" I roll my eyes. He grumbles, but I don't miss the hint of a smile appearing on his lips. "It's illegal to smoke at your age here. You know that, right?"
"Yeah, but who lit the cigarette for me?" I tease. He narrows his eyes at me. "She said she was 12, sir." He looks at me, waiting for my reaction. Such a nerdy move for his part. I cringe internally, yet the joke is so outdated and so unfunny that it makes me giggle. His face holds a satisfied expression.
It's silent for a few.
He turns his head to look at me, opening his mouth to say something, but it doesn't seem to come out.
Finally, he speaks, "You should move out. Everyone hears what goes on...and your cheek doesn't look good." He exhales, smoke filling the air. My eyebrows furrow at his comment. I sigh. Just when I thought that maybe he could be a breath of fresh air. For once, I just want to be able to have a conversation without the constant reminder of my shitty life.
"You think?" I obtain a small attitude, and he doesn't fail to notice. I rest my cheek in the palm of my hand, leaning onto my leg. The dim lighting of the apartment complex begins to flicker.
