love thy food

Kayla Reed. I like girls on motorcycles and boys on scooters. I like the sun when it's setting, and I like the moon when it's rising. I like short hair and long hair. I like the color green and the color red. I like people who smile, and people who don't smile. I like males with superheroes on their shirt and girls with bright, red lipstick.

[travisstole-blog]

I guess. I don’t know. [shakes his head and gets off the bed] I’m just going to go to, uh, sleep.

[r-e-e-d-blog]

All right, take care. [stands up and leaves, yes]

[travisstole-blog]

I fucking hope he does.

[r-e-e-d-blog]

[blinks] So you're going to wait until he talks to you?

[travisstole-blog]

Because I don’t want to talk to someone who doesn’t want to talk to me. Why would he want to talk to me?

[r-e-e-d-blog]

Maybe he feels guilty.

[travisstole-blog]

I’m not going to talk to him.

[r-e-e-d-blog]

Why not, Travis?

[travisstole-blog]

No. Nothing’s going to make this better.

[r-e-e-d-blog]

I suggest you talk to Pollux.

[travisstole-blog]

I don’t care. [rubs his eyes]

[r-e-e-d-blog]

[pauses for a moment, just looking at him] I can't say anything to make this any better, can I?

[travisstole-blog]

[sighs because he knows she’s right but doesn’t want to admit it] I don’t want to talk about this.

[r-e-e-d-blog]

Then what do you want me to talk about? Or do you want me to just leave?

[travisstole-blog]

[looks up and actually laughs] Will doesn’t care about my bullshit.

[r-e-e-d-blog]

Then you have other people to replace him.

[travisstole-blog]

I don’t have anyone to talk to. I’m alone.

[r-e-e-d-blog]

You have me, you have Co--maybe not him, since he'd most likely go into an angry brother mode. You have Ximena, and then there's Will, maybe, and your siblings, and a whole lot more. 

[travisstole-blog]

[head still low] How else am I supposed to think.

[r-e-e-d-blog]

Normally, without anything helping you numb it. Talk to someone about it.

[travisstole-blog]

Yes, I’ve thought about it. [lowers his forehead to the bed] And I hate myself. I’m an asshole, I don’t deserve anyone—especially not Pollux—and I deserve to feel this way. Can we stop talking about this?

[r-e-e-d-blog]

Yes, you do, Travis. Don't think like that. [nods] If you want.

[travisstole-blog]

Oh… So you want me to just sit here and…and just… [trying to find the words he means] just feel?

[r-e-e-d-blog]

Feel what? Your pain without weed being there to help the slightest bit? Yes, that'd be better. Have you tried thinking about what Pollux went through, what you went through, your relationship? I know it might be hard, considering it's you, but have you tried?

[travisstole-blog]

[his gaze snaps back to her] Pollux is leaving?

[r-e-e-d-blog]

I don't know. I meant leaving you.

[travisstole-blog]

I don’t care. [looks away and shakes his head] What does that have to do with Pollux?

[r-e-e-d-blog]

Would make sense for you to start smoking more and more with Pollux leaving, no?

[travisstole-blog]

[rubs his eyes, choosing not to reply to her earlier statements] Weed is a spiritual drug. [smiles slightly]

[r-e-e-d-blog]

Dude, this isn't good for you.

[travisstole-blog]

I don’t care what he wants. He doesn’t want me. Why are we talking about this?

[r-e-e-d-blog]

It could be a spur of the emotions, Travis. Haven't you ever thought of how you were when you two were together? Do you think he would do anything like that with another boy around here--that soon, at least? I have a feeling he still trust, and maybe loves, you, Travis. Even if he's not showing it. [nods, as if assuring herself slightly] Because it isn't good for you, smoking.

[travisstole-blog]

[lays down on his stomach on a bed across from her, facing her] Yeah, so what?

[r-e-e-d-blog]

You know he wouldn't want this. Smoking would be one of the worst things you could do. Have you tried getting a hold of him again?