Just a teenage dirtbag

Playlistism

   𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙮𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙨𝙢- 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙧𝙞𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙗𝙖𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙞𝙘 𝙞𝙣 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙤𝙣𝙚'𝙨 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙞𝙮𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

➪➪➪➪➪➪➪➪➪➪➪➪➪➪➪➪➪➪➪➪➪➪➪➪➪➪➪

                             ☞︎Mᴇᴀɴɪɴɢ ᴏғ Nᴀᴍᴇs☜︎

𝚆𝚢𝚊𝚝𝚝- 𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚟𝚎
𝙱𝚛𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚜- 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚙𝚒𝚍
𝙵𝚕𝚘𝚢𝚍- 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚢-𝚑𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍

꧁꧂

  Down the streets and into the unknown. But now what?  Safe from his father, away from that place. Running away. But where to? He had no friends or relatives. Not that the thought of staying at someone's place ever crossed his mind. If someone came up to Wyatt that very moment and straight out asked him if he ever got lonely, he would think the person was out of their mind and would answer their pathetic question with a short '𝙉𝙤' and a smirk, not even giving it a second thought. Bored, he did get. Lonely he didn't. And bored he started getting now, but just slightly. He 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙡 had no idea what to do. Then he stopped by at Roger's, remembering he forgot something. 
Roger knew him. He went in there often. Even some of the men there knew him.
  'Wyatt, nice to see you again.'
  'Nice to see you, too, Roger'
Wyatt grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniel's and went to pay for it.
Roger gave him the usual look, not with amazement as he already got used to this,just pity for the young boy.
'I should not be selling this to you...'
'Ugh sorry, it is for my father'
'You don't have to lie, Wyatt'
'Oh'
'What you gonna do this time?'
'What?' Wyatt asked, pretended to be confused.
'Ya father came by askin for you'
He knew he was gonna do that.
'𝙊𝙝'
Wyatt took out the money. It was gonna take it the whole 20 dollars for this one.
'No, take it. This one's on the house. Good luck, kiddo'
'Thanks' Wyatt mumbled as he made his way out of the shop. His father could come back, he needed to get way more far than that. He got on his skateboard and went faster this time. His father won't be out looking for him for that long, he didn't even care, he would have gotten back to search Wyatt's room for money. He'd find nothing, and then he'd swear. But not after long, he'd need the boy. Selling stolen newspaper was a shitty thing to do for some money. But Wyatt did it sometimes. And that was some sort of helpful to his father as well. And Wyatt was essential. And he'd go looking for him again.
   But now Wyatt was going far, to some places he have rarely been to, if not never at all.
  Going like this, he got to a rather nice place. A lake. Could be ok to stick to that place for some time. Maybe few hours. Maybe more. It seemed safe.
He sat down on the rocks and got out the bottle of whiskey, the pack of cigarettes and the lighter. The air filled with the smell he was so used to.
Then he heard steps behind him and he turned around to look. It was a boy, not much older than him, just as tall as him. But his features screamed 'older than Wyatt'. The muscles on his hands were more defined, his green eyes were shining and his hair was 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡𝙮 gray.
'You shouldn't be drinking' he said.
'You shouldn't be here' Wyatt ironically replied
'You neither. Do you run away often?'
'How the fuck can you know I ran away?'
'No other child would be here this late drinking and smoking. Plus, your face screams runaway'
'I'm not a child,  fucker. I am 15' Wyatt said, a little annoyed.
' Hah, I am 17. Ok, what's your name, not-a-child?'
'It's Wyatt'
'I can see why'
'And what would that be?'
'You have got some courage, boy'
'Then I suppose your name is Brutus'
'No, it's Floyd.'
'Understandable'
'You're smart, Wy guy.'
' You're not stupid yourself, old man'
'Unfortunately, that was not even one of the bad jokes about my gray hair I've ever heard'
Both the boys laughed. That was a weird way to get to know a person. Wyatt absolutely loved it.
'Now really, why did you run away? I suppose you go to a good school or something, you are really smart'  Floyd asked.
'Oh I never went to school. About the other question, what about we leave it for later?'
'Ok but I still don't get it. How can you know shit without going to school?'
'Oh stop it. It is just basic shit, plus I learned it by reading, which I learned from my old neighbor. She died, unfortunately. And for now , please, cut it with your annoying questions'
Floyd took his own pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one. Then he took out his phone and started playing a random radio channel.
Wyatt quickly covered his ears.
'What is this shit? Ah stop that noise please.'
Floyd stopped it.
'Is this playlistism I feel, Wy guy?'
'If it's shit, you deserve it'
'Calm down, I was just kidding. That was on the radio. I totally agree that it's shit. But what would NOT be shit in your opinion?'
'I can't tell. Gimme your thingy'
Floyd gave Wyatt his phone.
'Complicated, this shit'
'Never had a phone before?' Floyd smirked.
'No'
'Fuck I am sorry'
' Are you kidding me, Lloyd boy? They can track you with that thing'
They both started laughing and Wyatt put on a Pink Floyd song.
'Now, that was the best joke about my name and hair I have ever came across and it wasn't even a joke...'