petrichor

he bluntly states right back at her because of course she would ask this, of course she would ask him stuff like this. but as stated so many other times before, vernon is only book smart. he knows a world where the logical solution is the only one, where there’s no dreaming about stupid things that will never come true, where there’s no dreaming at all. disappointment is the only thing one can expect from this SHALLOW fucking place but he’s not about to ruin her hopes, not yet. the answer to this question is hard and he’s not sure what he wants to tell her. so he goes with an easy answer, slips his hands into his pockets and digs through them mindlessly. ”the kind we created.”

“relax, you don’t have to try and flatter me, i just helped you fix your laptop.” he’s not much of the technical genius but he’s read the books and he knows how to do it just now how to perfom it. however when he saw the device he had easily known what to do ( and done it of course ! ) just in a little more clumsy way than anyone would expect. but after all, vernon is only book smart, he doesn’t know how to work things that aren’t written about. he knows how to fix a computer because he’s read so many how to’s and manuals in the past years, for fun. that which used to be his hobby now remains a secret like a ghost in his past - it’s too fucking embarrassing to tell people that you used to be a super nerd? so he seals it off, shuts up and locks it in - pretends that he’s not a seventeen year old kid with an eidetic memory.

stars. he can see stars. that’s how blinded he is from anger. he can see every single particle floating around him, he can feel every single pulse. it’s been a while since he got into a fight and especially a fight on the streets. but today he fell back into his bad fucking patterns and ended up freaking out over something stupid and then suddenly he had caught a fist to his left cheek and then it was on. fifteen minutes later he stands here, leaning against a wall of a DIRTY fucking house and being comforted by a complete stranger. he ran from the scene as soon as he was finished, standing alone next to a bloody ground is never good so he had to run. and now he’s here, bleeding from his nose and a wound from his forehead and hence that there’s a cocky smile on his face. of course.

vernon often finds himsdelf surrounded by older people, making himself blend in better with the ones that are a few years older. and maybe that’s just because his oddly high iq ( though you may think he’s fucking stupid at first ) or maybe cause he thinks a little too highly about himself. and even though he doesn’t call anyone his friend, he knows who he can TRUST and not. and today is kind of a test run, a day to see if xtian is one of them. “i never knew that you could speak sign language.” he mumbles under his breath and kicks a rock on the pavement. “i do too.... of course.” he must add with a cheeky grin.

normally he doesn’t care of famous people nor does he want to be a part of the fanbases that run around like crazy on a day like this. clearly a concert recently ended as one street is crowded with people on their way home. it bothers him a little more than it should but he keeps pushing his way through the crowd until he’s FINALLY past it. after a few more minutes of walking he spots a group of girls, this must be one of those girl bands or whatever ( to him it’s obvious because of how unbelievable pretty they are ) and he stops for a second, finds himself only a few meters away and staring like a fucking idiot. and he realizes that he’s been staring a little too late cause suddenly he’s got eye contact with one of them and he immediately regrets stepping outside his door this morning.

“ah is that how you want it?” vernon doesn’t have time to argue with people, he’s frankly said too fucking tired and to be honest it’s not one of his better days. the day had already been bad enough and he certainly did not need her to make it worse. and he knows for sure that if they get into anything hed probably SNAP. if anything he kind of wishes he never decided to hang out with her in the first place. his lips part only to let through a deep sigh and he ends up tearing his gaze from her in the last second. “you know what, i am too tired to fight with  you right now, okay? i’m just gonna do.”

it’s not that easy, it’s never that easy. if anything, he knows that making people work for what they want is very important. giving in easily isn’t his deal at all. with his head tilted to the side, he peers over at the other through narrowed eyes and then he finally breaks out in a somewhat COCKY laugher, hand waving dismissively in the air. “no forget it!” vernon shakes his head and this time he doesn’t even feel bad about the rejection. it’s just such a weird thing to ask for and to be honest he’s got no idea why she even thought that he would be a good person to ask this from. “never.”

“this tastes like shit.” the only thing keeping him from spitting out the liquid is the fact that they’re not alone at the place. of course he could be rude and spit it out, yell and demand his money back but what for? sometimes he’s just too fucking tired for any of that shit and today he refuses to even set his foot in any trouble. he’s staying out of it. he’s being GOOD. and not because he has to but because he has someone at home that expects him to come home clean. the one day his mother finally is home for one night is also the one day trouble seeks him more than ever. and his bad temper is boiling up, working up his spine and exploding inside his head like a painful headache. turning to his friend, he bites down and runs his finger over the edge of his glass. “did yours taste aight?”

it's been quite the while since he felt like this. his fingertips are numb from playing so much guitar and yet there’s an amused smile plastered across his face. how come he even cares this much? well he ain’t got time to ask himself stupid questions like that now, instead he leans over and drums his fingers against the guitar’s body and starts a soft beat before once again playing. how he manages to feel so calm is almost a miracle. feet kicked up on the table in front of him, he’s sunk down in his chair, guitar resting on top of his torso as he gently plays. “it’s been a while since i gave this a try.”

“see okay- well um look-... just listen, i tried my best to wrap this crap up in some nice paper and shit but it wouldn’t work? cause HONESTLY who can wrap a stuffed baby tiger up? it’s too hard.” he’s literally nagging yet still standing with his arm extended, a stuffed little tiger with a bow on its head placed in his hand as he repeatedly nudges her arm with it. again and again and again and- “just take it. i saw it and i sorta thought of you and i bought it and- please just take it before i ramble again. please.”