#skjfhsdf

meme      /     accepting.    @winebleeds​

genuinely,     he doesn’t.     but he’s going to drink it because it’s there and because it’s convenient,     and it’s going to be with this face of muted disgust at the acidity,     at the way it lingers in his mouth to eventually mix with cigarette smoke.    but she knows that.

        there’s also no substitute,     really,     no other (legal) substance that will keep him up enough to finish this work besides it,     the dark liquid that she offers,     steaming out the top of the red and white and blue paper cup.    she knows that,   too,    probably.     so he takes it,     takes a sip,     and promptly burns his mouth,    then elects to pretend like it didn’t happen.

it sounds faint,     fading,      like an echo waving off the edge of a cliff,     and he wonders if it’s because she whispers it between them,    or if it’s because they’re both just barely awake and out of dreaming.     after blinking blearily at the sunlight that paints the room over her shoulder,     ben sinks his cheek further into her chest,    screws his eyes shut against the blinding gold.       “      ----     why are you asking     ?      “

      “     hm  ?     “

he’ll give her the benefit of the doubt and just repeat himself,     but when he angles his head upwards,     he swears her face is dusted pink.     “     you don’t have to ask me.     “

46. …out of envy or jealousy.

It’s uh, terrible to see them together. What’s another word?  Awful. Dreadful. Excruciating. 

To sum it up, it sucks. It really does. 

Keltie has her arm slung around Ryan’s neck as they lean forward as one to take a closer look at whatever’s on the computer screen. 

“Angel & Kings?” He says, perplexed, looking across the room at Pete. Pete is pouring himself what seems like a fourth cup of coffee in the twenty minutes we’ve been sitting here. The guy really needs to calm down. 

“Yeah,” he says, sitting back down on the couch, ignoring Spencer’s raised cup. “You’re gonna be a big boy.” 

“Please don’t ever call me a big boy again,” Ryan sighs as he scrolls down the document, and Keltie plants a kiss on his cheek. I refrain from rolling my eyes, but it’s a tough task. Why can’t she just act her age? That, and stay away from him. 

“I think it’s a good idea, Pete,” Keltie says with her stupid voice, a stupid smile on her stupid face. Stupid. “Don’t you think so, Ry?” 

“Yeah, I guess—” 

“Wait,” I cut in. “Isn’t Angels & Kings a club?” I already know the fucking answer, though. I’m just asking to stir shit up. And because I hate that Ryan’s just accepting this. 

“It is,” Pete says, taking another sip of his coffee. 

“Yeah, it is,” Keltie says at the same time, but she doesn’t even look at me. 

“You do know Spence and I aren’t twenty-one, yet, right?” I say, nodding towards Spencer, who’s sitting back down after having filled his own cup with coffee. 

“Unless you can make us a special pass to get in, Pete,” he says, nudging the older guy slightly. “I’ve always wanted to get into a club.” 

“No can do,” Pete shrugs. “It’s illegal, guys.” He narrows his eyes at me. “You know that.” 

“Everyone knows that. You still gonna host Ryan’s birthday in a fucking club? We’re his best friends, for fuck’s sake.”

“And I’m his girlfriend,” Keltie says, as if that explains everything, and I have to close my eyes and take a deep breath in in order not to leap forward and strangle her. 

“Right,” I say. 

“Right,” Pete echoes. 

Spencer takes a sip of his coffee and immediately spits it out, directly onto Pete’s jeans and shoes. Pete yelps and recoils, only managing to spill a little of his own coffee onto himself. 

“Dude, what the fuck?” 

Spencer glares at him, holding up his cup accusingly. “You what the fuck, dude, what is this?” 

“Decaf, obviously,” he replies, setting his cup down onto the table and standing up to assess the damage. 

“Who the fuck drinks decaf?” 

“I do, since I’m trying to get off caffeine,” Pete says, but I know he’ll be back to chugging his morning coffee in three days. He never does last long. “Well, I gotta go change. Can someone clean this up?” 

Keltie jumps up and looks at her wristwatch as he disappears in the doorframe. Only idiots wear wristwatches. “Oh, God, I’m gonna be late to rehearsal! Gotta run,” she adds, picking up her handbag and leaving a quick kiss on Ryan’s mouth before dashing out of the room behind Pete. 

Spencer sighs. “I’ll go find a mop.” 

I look at Ryan. His hair is unruly, and the frown on his face is always there these days. He looks like he doesn’t get enough sleep and I don’t know if he showers regularly. Probably not. 

“Are you really gonna celebrate it there?” 

He looks up from the screen, startled, almost like he didn’t realise most of the people in the room have disappeared. 

“Huh?” 

“Are you really going to throw your birthday party at Angels & Kings?” I repeat, and he shrugs. God, I fucking hate it when he shrugs. I could tell him I want to sleep with him and he’d shrug. Or not. I don’t know. 

I think of Keltie, and a wave of nausea washes over me for a few seconds. She doesn’t deserve him. He’s too good, too sensitive, too intelligent. Too fragile. I stand up to go sit next to him and lean in to pretend to read what’s on the screen. I don’t, though. All I can think about is his shoulder against mine and our legs touching. 

If I let my eyes travel away from the screen, I can see his profile, his chin, his lips and his nose from the corner of my eye. And it suddenly doesn’t seem fair that she’s the one who gets to have him for herself, all the time. She can kiss him in front of everyone, when I can only think of it. Imagine the thousand different ways it might happen, and how it’d never happen. 

Well, it’ll happen. 

“I think I like that it’s—” he starts as he turns towards me, but for the second time today, he doesn’t get finish his sentence because I kiss him. It’s a fast kiss, but it’s nothing like anything I’ve ever imagined. I’ve kissed boys before, but this— this is something different. It’s like my entire body is aware of what’s happening and decided to concentrate every single nerve on this, on my lips, on the way his light stubble feels against my chin, how my fingertips touch his neck and his lips, God, how soft his lips are. 

He pulls away and stares at me with a mixture of confusion and horror, but before he can say something, Spencer walks back in and we both turn to him like deers caught in headlights. 

I hear Spencer say something about a mop, but all I can think of is that look in his eyes, and how I’ll never get to feel his lips against mine again. I’m not sure it’s worth it to go on, knowing that. I’m not so sure.