#0601j

“this tastes like shit.” the only thing keeping him from spitting out the liquid is the fact that they’re not alone at the place. of course he could be rude and spit it out, yell and demand his money back but what for? sometimes he’s just too fucking tired for any of that shit and today he refuses to even set his foot in any trouble. he’s staying out of it. he’s being GOOD. and not because he has to but because he has someone at home that expects him to come home clean. the one day his mother finally is home for one night is also the one day trouble seeks him more than ever. and his bad temper is boiling up, working up his spine and exploding inside his head like a painful headache. turning to his friend, he bites down and runs his finger over the edge of his glass. “did yours taste aight?”