pity party: part ii of the rehab verse
“you know may’ll go spare if she catches you smoking.” fitz says as he sits beside her on the porch steps, his voice the only indicator he’d come outside.
“consider it a birthday treat.” daisy says, taking an extra long drag and trying not to think about how she’d spent her last birthday.
“oh shit, really? i didn’t know. why didn’t you say anything?”
“birthdays are pretty shit.“
“yeah i feel that. how much longer you in here for?”
“i dunno. may has to sign off on my release and she’s not gonna be doing that for a while. you?”
“same.” he doesn’t offer up much more than that, but daisy doesn’t expect him to. there’s a reason both of their releases keep getting delayed, ‘insufficient engagement with treatment’ as her notes say. “you hear we got a kid transferring here soon?”
“no, may never said anything to me.”
“some eighteen year old. the juvenile facility could’ve kept her another couple of years but apparently her needs are ‘too high maintenance.’ fucking soulless bastards.”
“not surprising. she’s lucky may’s one of the good ones or who knows what would’ve happened to her.”
“yeah.“ fitz whispers, lying on his back and staring up at the stars while daisy gently sways from side to side next to him. “you ever have a good birthday?”
“once. i was nine, my foster parents took me to build-a-bear, said it was a travesty i hadn’t had one before. the whole nine yards, the clothes, the heart ceremony. i’ve still got it now.” her happiness turns sour as she says: “i was taken out of their custody a couple weeks after that.”
“well. here’s to hoping your next birthdays are just as happy as that one.” he tugs the cigarette butt out of her hand and puts it out on the floor next to him, chucking it in a bush before they can get caught with the evidence.
“oh, and uh, happy birthday dais.”
“thanks fitz.”
