TRISTAN: AND HE SAID

                    “ ya ain’t SHIT and ya won’t ever be SHIT.    i swear i could fuckin’ out smoke you, drink you, fuck you.   ya even got me makin’ sure i pronouncing my shit right and shit. “

TRISTAN: please come and collect your kids i tap out

“you’re the reason i’m smiling when there’s nothin’ to smile about.”

“sorry about getting you in trouble --- an’ getting you detention.” it wasn’t intentional --- it was like some kind of phenomenon. no matter what came out of her mouth, ashton somehow always managed to get into more trouble without fail. “but hey, coach s’in charge of that today, so it’ll probably only last like ten minutes. so really, i’ll be in more trouble. he’s pissed at us, so we’re doin’ suicides.”

tristan was struggling to focus on anything, she could hear ashton rambling on to her right, but she couldn’t really understand what he was saying. there were bits and pieces, words and sounds that stuck out and stayed there, like post-its or bookmarks in his stream of consciousness. “you said we’re so scared of alone... and i knew what you meant,” at least she thought she did, she was trying to process things as best as she could. “you wanna go where it glows --- all those places where your watch doesn’t work.”

“uh —” tristan looked down at their kitchen counter, finger writing out the overcomplicated word against the granite. “a-b-b-i-g-l-i-a-m-e-n-t-o. it’s clothing, you know? like vestiti?” tristan would be the first to admit italian was unnecessarily complicated, but it had nothing on french. of course, that didn’t help ashton at all, but he really appreciated that the other was making an effort.

“not true — apples are fuckin’ delicious, and those are good for you.”