#fckingwaste

       a lit cigarette hangs loosely between the cage of index and middle fingers. misaki props his elbow on his knee, rests his chin on the back of his hand and sighs. it’s a ghost of a sigh really, more smoke than sound. he watches people wander passed, one foot grounded next to his skateboard and the other rolling it slowly back and forth in front of the curb. it is amazing he managed to pull himself out of bed this morning, considering it is a Bad Day. it doesn’t feel like an accomplishment. pale eyes blink unseeingly at the color leeched backdrop of the city. he should have stayed in bed.

IF I CHOSE A FAVOURITE YOU’D GET EVERY SINGLE SONG THEY’VE EVER MADE

TRUST ME, ALEX, I HAVE. TRUST ME. I WAS LIKE FIVE WHEN IT CAME OUT AND I COULD STILL BELT IT OUT THEN.

       he takes a shot before he locks up the flat. the whole walk, he tells himself that chinese food and chill does not mean she loves you and tries not to stray into oncoming traffic. just because she said it, doesn’t mean she meant it like that. draco does everything possible, in his power, to ignore the small nagging sunspots in the back of his head that whisper about how he kind of hopes otherwise.

dray: m otel do wntwon greeee en sign

draco: not like we're together

            decidedly not looking at her is his new favourite thing. apparently.