Lloyd canât help but look at Kit as he spoke, each word like a dagger even if he couldnât place why it felt like that. âI did think of youâŚâ He speaks but trails off when Kit keeps right on speaking. He held the other boyâs eyes as he was looked at, looking away himself when Kit started speaking once more. He doesnât reply, not right away. The streets speed past and Lloyd is opening his mouth before he can remind himself to keep it closed.
"Iâm 24 now. Throw a fucking party." His words are bitter, or at least they are meant to be but Lloyd isnât sure if heâs really hit the nail on the head with this one. They sound bitter and stale in his head but heâs never really been good at getting his voice to mimic his thoughts in the way he wishes them to. He gets out a small chuckle but his eyes are wet and he closes them, pressing the heel of his hands over them. As if that could stop the feeling from being felt. As if what pills and booze couldnât tame, a simple press of the hand would. Foolish thinking, is all it was. Well, in all honestly foolish thinking is really all Lloyd ever did. He was a fool, now he was just simply a fool who was a year older.
"Shit."Â He tries to stop his thoughts, to silence the static in his head but he kind of felt like he was drowning in something much thicker than water. As if swimming or floating or even finding the surface to break free were all impossible. He feels like something inside him is cracking and he mumbles out another curse. Like harsh words could hold him together.Â
He suddenly remembers he isnât alone in his thoughts anymore- that the mumbled words and confessions are sharing the air with someone and he lowers his hands, eyes searching Kit. They land on his face and Lloyd can only look for a few short moments before he has to look away. He doesnât want Kit to know. He doesnât want to have to tell the boy that he ran from such petty problems and lost himself in smoke and powder. He doesnât want Kit to be mad at him for trying to stay together. He doesnât want Kit to look at him and see this pathetic waste of humanity. But all his wants are selfish and steaming from fear. He sighs, realizing his thoughts have taken over once more, and turns his head, pressing his forehead to the window once more.
"Iâm fucking 24 and still getting fucking pissed because mother and father have forgotten. Because Lindsey doesnât care. Somehow, six years ago, when I was getting shitfaced on this very day after the only shitty gift I got was finding my girlfriend without a pulse, I really didnât think Iâd still be this much of a mess when all grown up. Fuck-Fucking shit. Iâm meant to be all grown up now, you know? I guess itâs hard to be an adult when adult was expected of you since age four. Shit. Should be fucking pro at this by now. I.." He trails off, feeling the sting of tears behind his eyelids as he balls his fist until he can feel his nails digging into the flesh of his palm.
He lets out a breathe and tries to steady himself. When that doesnât work he pulls away from the window and pulls out on of the last joints he has on him. He lights it and inhales slowly before blowing the smoke out, watching as it danced at the top of the car. The city is still speeding past and he sighs, âPoor little rich boy, huh? There are fucking millions of books with my exact finger print on it. Petty problems and a broken home. Big, destructive reactions to any little thing not going my way. Spoiled and altogether awful. Throw myself anywhere cause my fig, fat wallet will surely catch me. Just- thatâs all I am. A pathetic knock-off of a paper-cut out of a boy. Itâs pathetic. Iâm pathetic. Boo-fucking-hoo, mum and dad donât love me. I need to grow up. Need to just fucking grow up already and get overâŚâ He trails off again but this time he doesnât pick his thoughts back up. He takes a hit from the spliff, body far from relaxed.
