sweetheart ; steven hyde (discontinued)

3.

small talk

➳

I wake up in the middle up the night, sweat dripping from every pore on my body. My hair is matted to my face.

The screams play over and over in my head. The hidden screams, hidden behind smoke and flames. The screams, guarded by a barrier of orange and red and blue.

A tear runs down my face, and I swipe it away. I sniffle and gather my hair in my hands, tying it back. I take my pack of cigarettes from beside by bed and grab a zippo from mu collection and unlock my bedroom window.

I climb out, lighting a cigarette and blowing the smoke out, watching the smoke disappear into the night sky.

I hear a screen door slam across the street. I groan as I make out Steven Hyde's figure, getting closer to me.

"Are you like, watching me now?" I ask him and he laughs.

"Maybe I am, Sweetheart." He crosses the street and I hit my cigarette, flicking ashed away. He gets closer, the begins crawling up on my roof.

"What do you think you're doing?" I snap, his head peaks up and a evil grin flashes at me.

"Go away," I say to him as he continues to crawl up to the roof, and I continue to let it happen.

"What are you doing up so late?" He asks and I look at him, he takes a seat right beside my and crosses his arms over his legs.

His body is covered in a gray sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants. Something I wouldn't imagine a boy like him to wear.

"Did you have a nightmare about your dead parents or something?" He jokes and I snap my head in his direction, my jaw dropped.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? You are such a cruel human being. Give me one good reason not to put this cigarette out on you cheek right now," I say very rudely. "Seriously, what's wrong with you? What makes you think you can just come into my life and say such horrid shit like that?" At this point, I'm almost shouting, and I refuse to look at him.

"Just making small talk," He says, holding his hands up in surrender.

"Small talk? You call that small talk? Asking a girl about her dead parents? That's small talk to you? How's the weather, How was your day. That's small talk. Fuck off." I begin to crawl back into the room when he grabs my arm.

I shake from his grip and shoot him a death stare.

"Listen, I don't even know your name. I'm trying to be your friend." He says, more calm than me. I laugh.

"You should have asked me what my name was before you asked me about my dead parents." I snap, the flick my cigarette at him.

I crawl back into my window and slam the window shut. I watch him climb down, and walk back across the street.

He disappears into his door and I groan. The clock on my wall tells me that it's almost four.

I crawl back into my bed and get comfortable, allowing myself to push thoughts of the mean—yet somehow handsome man—from my head and fall back to a deep sleep.

➳