rylee.

parker: never said you weren't

parker: ah. i didn't know there was such a big market for eye wigs

parker: not if you don't wear red lipstick it's not

rylee: there is, it's a big ass market along with brushes.

parker: writing songs huh?

parker: i hope your make up is better than my future step sister's 🙄

parker: she's all over instagram with this "new" red lipstick and i'm like who gives a fuck? it's fucking red lipstick it's not exactly fucking revolutionary now is it

rylee: dude, more than a pretty face.

rylee: well we've been developing some new false eyelashes

parker: punk rockers are all about not calling themselves punk rockers

rylee: oh sorry, didn't get the memo

parker: so i remind you of dark colors?

parker: well that wasn't very clear

parker: should i take that as a compliment?

rylee: take it as a compliment

sirus: you came up with the best colors? i thought all of the colors were already invented

sirus: that's fun!

rylee: no no no theirs always MORE colors

parker: are these two different things or did you come up with the best colors to use in your song?

rylee: parker, these are two very different but important things.

rylee: i just came up with the BEST colors

he didn’t care one bit about the fresh stain on his shirt. even if it didn’t come out, parker wouldn’t hesitate to wear it out again. “it’s fine,” he informed rylee as she poured out another apology. “it wasn’t even that hot.” his brows lifted at her remark. “oh no?” he snorted, “so what would you say, then?” parker likes tea and turns his nose up at coffee — except for when it’s spilled down the front of his shirt, it seems. “yeah,” he hummed in agreement, “wasn’t that why you dumped me?”

 a sarcastic laugh had passed her lips, typical rylee usually left her coffee’s until tey were ice-cold or lukewarm but she couldn’t help it this time.. she was just so excited about the new brushes. “hey, i was too busy talking in meetings.” she commented with a nod as she looked at him, her brows furrowing together. “Oh, really because i thought you dumped me because i liked pineapple on pizza?” she remarked jokingly. 

      he was walking down the busy streets of new york city, nothing new and nothing changed. he was dressed in a black t-shirt and olive green pants, some pair of designer sunglasses sitting upon the bridge of his nose to cover his eyes. saint was simply just going to go shopping, having no need to really go anywhere. however, he wasn’t excepting the sudden feeling of a shoulder banging into him and the sound of something splashing. he’d stop, eyes looking upon the other. “don’t worry about it, you’re all good!” he says, nodding slightly. “are you alright? did you burn yourself?”