you may be a disaster, but you're not a monster.
junior. the nickname seems to sit ready upon everyone's mouth. the comparison in more just a mirrored reflection. upon first glance he has his father's looks, the same jawline. the only thing that sets him apart are the softness in his features, the color of his eyes. that he remember's. however, his mother's were much lighter, pretty. he remembers when they'd dance in the living room, his feet upon hers to help him keep with the beat. when he would look up the sun would hit her iris' just right and they look like golden honey. he hasn't heard them in so long, but as he sits before @chiefhop he plays the strings upon torn denim. all nerves in a habit. he wonders if the chief really means the words he speaks.
“ you seem to be the only person who thinks that. ” besides his uncle. he shifts, eyes falling to the paperwork on his desk. it's his file, he thinks his father's below. the spine is worn, taped for reinforcement due to bulging papers. he thinks he sees an intake photo peeking, probably the first time he's seen his dad in years. eddie sighs and shifts again. the handcuff pressing into his wrist and sounding against his silver bracelet. “ if you're gonna call my uncle go ahead, but he's workin' late. ” there it is, the heated guilt at the back of his neck. he's starting to feel warm in leather over his denim cut out. he promised him he'd stop doing stupid shit, but he just wants to help out. he sighs, free hand trying to soothe out the tension that forms in his brow. it's more stress related than frustration. “ can you at least... wait till the morning so he doesn't miss the pay. ”















