Expectations (Violentine)

Chapter Five: Jackpot

A/N: PEMDAS except it's PEMTW for Please Excuse My Terrible Writing

"Breaking news, happening tonight, a house fire started no more than an hour ago. So far there is no word on any survivors, and we have been told anyone in the house at the time of the roof collapse is most likely dead from smoke inhalation-"

Hazel eyes turned towards the door as headlights passed through the window, announcing a cars return.

Mitch furrowed his eyebrows in anger, walking over and pulling the door open to see a drunk Marlon with a bottle of booze in hand. "What the hell, Marlon."

The blonde batted away his hand. "It's fine, dude, chill-" "-you fucking stole my car, asshole!"

Marlon gave Mitch a look. "I wasn't stealing it, I was borrowing it."

Mitch crossed his arms, shaking his head. "Yeah, well, you borrowed my car AND my key and didn't leave me yours. I missed my fucking job interview because of you, dick."

"Just, interview tomorrow or something,"

Mitch grit his teeth. "I can't interview tomorrow. That isn't how it works." At a lack of any interest or attention from the boy, Mitch followed after him into the kitchen.

"Are you at least going to give me gas money for the two fucking hours you spent driving around in MY car?"

Marlon waved him off. "Yeah yeah, when I get paid."

"You said that last month. I haven't seen a dime, Marlon."

The boy held the booze in one hand, digging into his front pocket with the other. "Here,"

Mitch followed his hands, watching what he was pulling out, only to slump over. "...a fucking lottery ticket..?"

"Your lucky numbers! 3, 21, 7, 28, 31, 24. You're welcome."

Hands grabbed the ticket from the boys grasp, crumbling it up in his fist. "Are you fucking kidding me, Marlon?! I missed my fucking job interview because you wanted to get booze and lottery tickets?!"

"I used some of the money you had in your middle thingy, so, like," A hiccup. "-technically you bought it,"

A deep breath. "What fucking took you so long?"

Marlon held his hand on the doorknob to the basement, opening it and turning back to his friend. "I got in an accident,"

Mitch's eyes bulged. "An accident?! Did you get their insurance?!"

Marlon waved him off again. "It was an ambulance, im sure they were fine-"

"Marlon."

"Dude, will you just relax? I wanna go to bed," Marlon sighed, gesturing down the stairs to where his room was.

Mitch shook his head in disbelief. "How bad was it?"

"How bad was what?"

"The accident you dumb fuck!"

Marlon stared for a minute, before speaking. "It was on its side, I think," "-jesus fucking c-" "-I didnt think I'd need to stop,"

"You always fucking stop and get info, you prick!" Mitch huffed, hand rubbing at his temples, before reaching out. "Give me the booze."

"Dude, no-" "-Give me the fucking booze, Marlon!" Hands reached out, grabbing it from the blonde's hands.

"Give it fucking back-" "-youre a fucking adult, dude! Start acting like one!"

Marlon moved to reach around the boy, grabbing for the booze, only to be shoved back by his friend. With a mumble of curse words under his breath, Marlon shoved Mitch back, watch him drop the booze and paying no attention to the shattering glass on the ground.

Hands pushing, fists balling up, sneakers squeaking, angry curses and disgusted grunts, Mitch hadn't even realized how close they had pushed each other towards the basement stairs until Marlon was sat at the bottom.

Eyes wide, hands shaking.

"...Marlon?"

Nothing.

"Marlon, im serious, this isnt fucking funny,"

Nothing.

With hesitant steps, Mitch made his way down the basement stairs, only to feel the bile rise to the back of his throat.

Marlon, eyes closed, laying in a forming puzzle of his own blood.

"Marlon-" fingers touching at his neck, heart stopping at no pulse.

"Fuck ... Fuck fuck-" Mitch stepped back, up onto the stairs, careful not to get any blood on himself, when it dawned on him.

His car was a mess.

The bottle of booze on the kitchen floor.

His best friend dead because of his actions.

They would pin it on him.

He barely had time to notice the TV as he grabbed Marlon's keys and got in the boys car, praying it had just enough gas to get to the station down the street. As it started up, radio blaring whatever CD Marlon had in, Mitch backed out of the driveway and took off towards the gas station.

"-and now, we bring you the winning lottery numbers after such a tragic story: Channel Nine. The winning numbers are: 3, 21, 7, 28, 31, 24."