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Cosmic Funnies

oozey mess
DEAR READER

if i look back, i am lost
Keni

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
trying on a metaphor
No title available
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Not today Justin
Jules of Nature
ojovivo
Cosimo Galluzzi

Love Begins

★
art blog(derogatory)
Sweet Seals For You, Always
Three Goblin Art
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@shayleekevel
vegas - kaos
But where does the road end? Miles and miles of highway don't lead to Rome, and the most dissolute of rogues always feel the pull to something bright and shiny that reeks of sin. Vegas, where everything is ugly, the lights too bright, the air too hot, the tourists too loud, held one thing that appealed to people like them, the kind who had knuckles that itched where they were once split, and tongues riddled with lies and deceptions, waiting like a loaded gun, finger on the trigger. It was a job opportunity that didn't ask for a resume or past references, but a reputation and a very specific skill set.
You don't make friends in a city like this, you make business partners who call you family, and you become a brother or a sister that can be dead in an instant if you don't pull your weight. Your new family owns a casino, and if you're lucky, you're in a family that owns more than one casino, and a couple restaurants and night clubs and hotels as well. The best kind have a few other businesses going on the side, the kinds of trades that put the sin into the city. The best are the Volkov's, a Russian mob family turned American multimillionaires. There's no crime in being wealthy, the crime was in all the newly recruited family that were paid handsomely to keep the wheel spinning and the bets high.
When Leo Volkov calls, you answer, and your answer is yes. It's always yes because the offer's too good to be true, and it'll put you right where you like to be, right where there's the most of everything, and you're doing what you do best, and your knuckles are split again and you're back in the game and it's worth growing pale in the glow of all the neon, because you realize you're only ever completely alive when you're busy like this. The Hook and The Bat, she lured them in and Os punched them out, that's how Leo liked it, and that's how they liked it. Simple.
Her mark was always male, heavy set, ageing badly with an incredible confidence that was misplaced entirely. She'd bat her eyelashes, let them order her a drink and small talk, all in a tidy way, just enough words to let them fill in the blanks themselves. They liked that, like she was an empty canvas and they could choose their own adventure with her back story, make her mysterious and ultimately, willing to fuck them.
“What do you work in?
As if he cared to know. “Insurance.”
“Visiting?”
“Sort of.”
A pretty girl isn't a threat to a man with an incredible debt on his shoulders as long as she has a couple drinks in her, just enough for her to start swaying and talking fast, blue eyes wide and words running into each other. A great folly of man, always doubting how much a woman is capable of lying to them. She knew a quiet place, just them, she would whisper excitedly into his ear, pulling him down some steps, pressing a finger to her lips and shushing dramatically, his heart beat echoing in the deserted stair way, old blood singing.
Os would meet them at the end of the steps, stoic as always, the shadows colouring him darker and sinister. Hook meet mark, mark meet Bat.
Typical gangster style meant that the man would have to be strapped to a chair, with the two of them circling like sharks who smelled blood.
“You work in insurance?”
“I'm ensuring that Leo Volkov's debt is repaid. He said he'll take the money, or your knee caps and a couple teeth.”
Birthday | Kaos + Spencer
Having mumbled a thank you at her peer’s acknowledgement of the day, Spencer couldn’t help the smile that fit her lips as she exited the classroom, making her way back to the dormitory. The day had been quiet thus far, but peaceful, lacking the rush of competing on her birthday or spending majority of it drifting through time zones from one country to another. It was nice to be home, a name she had slowly started attributing to the school, despite having been there for years now. For a while, it lacked the familiar faces she associated with the term, constantly wishing for her friends to be closer or for their schedules to overlap more often than they did, but with the newest addition to her life, she couldn’t be more happy to be where she was. Colin had quickly come into the picture and changed things for the blonde, making her monotonous routines more enjoyable, the trips to competitions spent curled up against each other, and caring for her in a way she hadn’t been used to, but was growing to welcome. They weren’t perfect, but they worked, and she was excited for their plans later on in the day.
With the hour or so between the end of classes and when she needed to be at the rink, she headed in the direction of the dorm, deciding to drop off her things and rest for a bit, maybe lay down or relax in other ways, catch up on this week’s episode of one of the few television shows she was watching.
The expression that had rested across her features widened at the sight of flowers resting against her door, pink roses, a tell-tale sign that they were from her father, as confirmed by the note. She fumbled with her key in the door as she held the bouquet in one hand, gently pushing open the door and entering the room without a proper look inside, shutting the door in the dark. With her back to the bed, she flipped the switch, slipping off her coat before turning and noticing the individuals on her mattress, causing the blonde to gasp before grinning in familiarity. “What are you doing here?”
“Should,” Os started, she could probably just make out the face he was making, dark brows arched, lips threatening to curve, but they wouldn’t—couldn’t, not right now. “but you won’t.” He watched the door, waiting to gruff out a surprise when she entered and they would turn into a circle of old friends and all the bad shit will roll off their backs and ping against the floor like marbles. He stretched out his feet, the boots he usually wore and you could tell that he usually did by the way they looked like they had years stacked along the leather, the heels dragged on the carpet as he straightened out his knees. He shoved his fists deeper into his pockets, bored hands didn’t know what to do. It felt like forever before the door opened, he looked up towards the light that grew in front of them. It was almost funny to him that it took her a few seconds to notice the two of them, as if they were just fixtures in her room. When he saw her face melt from distress to a grin, he was sort of glad, she wasn’t pissed they broke in. “Hello to you too,” He grumbled out, freeing one of his hands to wave. “Also dumb question, it’s your birthday, ain’t it?” He matched her smile with a twist to his mouth that could be called a smile, but only if you knew him. It was as close to one as he could get.
She almost protested, the cig burning close to the filter, but he was right. Now was as good a time as any to put off quitting bad habits. There was a stillness between them, careful two steps, no easy flow. Even the ghost of his smile seemed guarded now. A couple months ago a room just like this had been home, and now the pair made the perfect 'one of these things does not belong' puzzle. The door opened as she exhaled, and she blinked as she adjusted to the burst of light, the smoke wafting away with the cool breezes sneaking in through the open window. She tried to find changes in Spencer, looking for a sign that she'd changed, or become somebody different, but she came up short, the only thing out of the ordinary was the bunch of roses in her hand.
“Nothing worth stealing, so I'd say we're here for you,” Kaylee added, standing. She tossed the cig out the window, giving the blonde an apologetic look as it sailed towards the pavement, or at least something sort of passing as one. “You don't have any ash trays, you know?” She gestured over at Os and then herself, “Like your present?” She missed her, and she hadn't realized how much until she was standing right before her. It made her blabber a little, talking a little too fast, words in a panicked pile up.
don’t you shiver
Kaylee :
She doubled checked the address, the numbers on her screen and on the side of the house matched up, but the story didn't. This wasn't how it had played out in her head, there was no landscaped garden, or dolled up party guests spilling from glass doors. She rolled down the window a little and flicked her cigarette butt out of it, just to make the scene a little less pristine. It was fucking with her, she didn't get what the angle might be. One hand on the door handle, the other fumbling to ready another cigarette from the endless stream of smokes, she turned to Os. "Fuck it," she muttered, mouth catching on what the right words might be. "Gonna either catch or get caught by a big fuckin' fish."
Os :
Os sucked in the chilled air like a paralyzed patient taking their meals through a bendy straw. He felt like a ball of adjacent emotions, none quite matching with the other, all from different parts of him, criss crossing behind his eyes. He followed Kaylee in, he let her do everything, these were her demons and she would walk into her personal hell first, but he would stay close, a switch that had old flecks of Brooklyn was settled sleepily in his pocket, just waiting to be jostled awake. The place was expensive, he was picturing something else, sketchy druggies, not rich fuck druggies. He could handle the sketchy ones. He let out a whistle once the door was shut behind him as his eyes scaled the pristine facade. "Are we looking for someone?" He asked, his voice quiet so only she could hear.
Kaylee :
They stuck out, Os like some dark turned angel clad in leather and black denim, his face said vengeance. He looked like he was demanding violence, but not a fast food kind. Her own face was hard, like it was drawn only of lines as she searched the place, finding traces of the man she was searching for. They were scattered around, in the languid of his party guests, the vacant stares reminding her of the empty faces of his users. Bovine-like, she pushed passes them. "Yeah. Skinny fucker, dark hair," Kaylee murmured back, copying him in the way that her voice could just hardly be heard above the senseless chatter. Seeing a couple clear eyed men disappear behind a door near the back of the party, she nodded towards it. It was as good of a lead as any.
Os :
He figured that this was love, this willingness to follow her through this shinning hell, down the vacant eyed pathway and straight to the maker of her demons. He would do this for her a billion times over because this was love, he was more shaken from that, than the mess they were dipping their feet in. He braced himself, nodding at her words, then again once she motioned towards the men who slipped away like secrets through the door near the far end. He made his way through behind her, not giving a shit for the other bodies, he knocked shoulders with a handful of people who weren't paying attention and shot glares their way when they started to say something. When they reached the door, Os shoved his hand into the pocket of his jeans, opposed through his usual fist in his empty jacket pocket, now his fingers brushed the cold end of his switch. He was ready. Kaylee just had to open the door.
Kaylee :
Easy or better, that was the choice. Easy or better and she chose and he chose and now there was a door and all they had to do was step through it. He'd brought a knife, he hadn't told her but she could tell by the way he reached for it, she wondered if the cold metal against his fingertips was his comfort like he was hers. "Hey," Kaylee said hesitantly, "Don't do anything fucking stupid okay?"
Os :
Knifes weren't for stabbing, it's what he learned first, you graze them, knick the skin of whoever the bastard in front of you is. Stabbing is messy, everyone knows that, once you do it you lose your knife in a gut and your freedom in the hands of the cops--nobody's a killer till they stab or till they shoot, those were finalized notions, bitter ugly notions that had no turning back. "I'm not the type," He said, tossing her an easy smile. "No stupid here." He freed his hand then, instead he covered her's that was paused at the knob with his own.
Kaylee :
Kaylee scoffed, a low noise in her throat, and turned, ready to push through the door when his hand landed on hers. Her chest was heavy, tightening, and she stared at their covered hands, the way they fit. They had wasted too much time lingering by the door, two dark smudges against all the brilliance and she opened her mouth, closing it quickly again. "Love you, stupid." It was hardly a whisper, said more through blue eyes wide at the uttered confession. She turned the knob then, stepping into the room.
Os :
His head spun for a brief moment, she must have picked the words he was thinking from his head and sprinkled them into the air. He almost said it back, the words had been tied around his tongue for a while, only he didn't know it till now, but she moved quick and they died at the back of his throat. His heart sped up he wasn't sure if it was because of her words or the impending doom, a mixture of both, perhaps. He followed her through, ready for whatever awaited them.
Kaylee :
Her first steps were sure, but the second few wavered. There were girls, some who looked like her, dark haired, too skinny. Most of them were the plastic sort of girl, blonde and plush, and they decorated the laps of men she'd once known. The men, she'd called them friends at first, they'd been a good time, they liked that she'd get high, drink more, fight dirty and talk mean. They'd been her friends until they were the gate keepers, then the jail guards. She'd been trapped, and the jailer, the king pin, leered at her like he'd caught her. Boyfriend, that was his name until she was running. "Spent six months in prison because you disappeared, Kayla." His voice was like ringing in her ears.
Os :
He narrowed his eyes at the scene littered with pretty guests watched by lazy, yet careful eyes. He could feel his blood boil as he thought of Kaylee in a place like this, younger than she was now, something different than the girl who melted after months of thawing out. He didn't know enough, he didn't know how this would go, what exactly she--they, rather, would have to do to cut the tethers that bind her to a place like this, a place that didn't even feel real enough to cut through. They were detached as soon as they stepped through, Os couldn't say who let the other's hand drop first, but they were separate at the scene, but no doubt they were together, two dark forces colliding with whatever everything else was. He saw her wavering steps, he stayed close, glancing down to find her eyes, he shot her a look, one that he hoped she remembered from the car ride there. I won't let anyone hurt you.
Kaylee :
He’d changed from when she’d last seen him, cocaine had stolen more flesh from his body and he looked more like a whip than a man, his eyes like sparkly black marbles. Rat's eyes, the eyes that scanned over a person and decided which part they liked best and stole it. He'd taken her freedom, and so she tried to take his. "Fair's fair." She was practiced in making words come out lazy, pretending not to care, like an idle attendant of life. She could feel Os buzzing near her, he was energy with teeth bared but she felt so damn tired. "Killed that girl as soon as I got three states away. Kayla, I mean." Fingers twitched for a cigarette, something to keep them busy. "She's gone. I killed her and now you have to stop. I can fucking," Kaylee paused, rubbing the back of her neck. "I can feel you, all the time, waiting for her." The crowd was on edge now, buzzing the same way Os was. "Let her die."
Os :
He stayed back as she spoke, but he was ready to pounce, his eyes were past her, on those faces she spoke to. He surveyed them for movement, for something to make him have a reason to go. He wanted to do it, to bloody his fists up, they were addicts to drugs, he was an addict to fighting, to drinking, to protecting. He dared someone to do something almost, he listened to Kaylee talk as his eyes were trained on the audience, he fell in love with her words, her pain, her growth from someone with skeletons to someone who tore through the bones and spate them out on the front lawn of the people who put them there.
Kaylee :
He looked at her, expression blank as he registered what she was saying. She'd been dreamier back then, always hazed in between an incredible high or a devastating low, and he was accustomed to a girl who didn't say what she felt but talked about the way the rainbow felt or how she only liked ice cream when it was green. He stared at her and she waited, feeling raw, like she'd scraped everything out from inside her and spilled it onto the crisp white tiles. Tipping his head back, he laughed. The first few peals were like trickles, and then the dam released, the rest of the men joining in until it was deafening.
Os :
Os knew he had one thing going for him at all times, intimidation radiated off of him like something toxic, he never wavered as he stood behind Kaylee, he was a dark looming like something out of a story book. He knew he might not hold it like that here, these people might not be as afraid of him as the guy who ran earlier was, but he could try. The laughter cut the sting, the last one that made him loose, he stepped forward. He didn't pull out his knife, waving it now wouldn't be wise it would only make more laughter bleed through the scene. Instead he made his presence a little more known, to the main guy, the person who was the reason for their arrival. "I didn't hear a fuckin' joke," He said darkly. "I'd be laughing if I heard something funny."
Kaylee :
Laughter cut through her, and she hated it. She was supposed to be hard, harder than nails and pressed steel. Harris wasn't big, but he didn't have to be, he was sharp. He knew people, knew how to fuck with them, knew how to get them to do what he wanted. He was the sticky paper that caught all the flies, all the men in the room followed his lead, pretending like they didn't feel the glue hardening, trapping them. Os stepped up beside her, taller than her but she wasn't in his shadow. A sleezy grin wiped across Harris' face, and Kaylee spoke up quickly. "It's done, alright?" He scoffed. "Done?" Harris looked Os over, "Brought in your doberman, nice touch Kayls."
Os :
The guy was skeevy, the type of skeevy that probably got shoved around till he built a place like this around himself. "Doberman, pit, fuckin' rottweiler, I don't give a shit." He said at the mention of his presence, he wasn't lying when he announced that he didn't give a shit, he was like a dog and he knew it, wild, unhinged and desperate with his teeth bearded at the slighted stench of bad blood. He moved quickly, his legs were long enough to complete the way with a few steps, "She could spell done for ya, if you want." He spat, "Or I could help." He then drove his fist into the guy's face, no doubt aiming for his nose.
Kaylee :
Kaylee had attended enough Fight Club meetings to grow accustomed to the way Os began a fight, but the first time seeing it was something, a mixture of awe and well placed fear written all over the viewer's faces. He was big, but it wasn't just that. It wasn't size that won fights, it was how much the other person wanted it, and every time he swung he put everything he hated and everything he'd ever hated into each heavy fist. There was a pause, like someone had freezed the frame to mop up the words that he spat out all over the tiles or the steady drip, drip, drip of blood leaking from Harris' nose. It was a moment of everyone holding their breath, waiting for the next move, too unsure to make their own. "Fuuuck," Harris let out, breaking the silence. He touched it gingerly, the busted up mess in the center of his face. "It's broken. He fucking broke my nose," he said, incredulously. The men had started to push aside the girls, they were decorations, pieces of furniture to them that would linger in the background until they were useful once more. "We're going now Harris," Kaylee said cautiously, edging towards the door. If they moved fast they might be able to have some kind of a clean break.
Os :
His lips went upturned at the shock on the guy's face, he would have stayed longer, punched the fucker again to let him know just how little they were fucking around, but he could feel it in Kaylee's words. They needed to split. Os held up his finger, the middle one upwards while the others were bent, he flipped off the prick with the bloody nose and made his way towards Kaylee as she moved towards the exit, this wasn't running, they did what they could.
Kaylee :
"And who does he think you are?" Harris didn't shout, he screamed. "You were Kayla to me and who are you to him?" Bitter laughter rang out again, his hand holding onto his nose as she ducked through the door, Os behind her. "You won't know her kid, you won't and when you think you do..." His voice disappeared as she weaved through the crowds, pushing aside the guests who got in her way, the fortunate few who were oblivious to what had just occurred. A bottle of pills rested on a side table and she palmed them, a brisk movement as she passed it by. The prescription hardly mattered, if you took enough of anything you could get numb.
Os :
The screaming made his back straighten up, he didn't turn only barely flinched at them, he let them bite them like punches. They leaked into his head and tasted of something that felt like sense and he was suddenly breathing fast, wanting nothing more to launch back and kick his ass, break more than the bridge of his nose...try and stop him, those figures who moved towards them couldn't do much from their distance, before he left he grabbed a glass ashtray from a closeby table and threw it towards the guy's head. Fuck you, fuck you. His words crawled into his head like cancer, killed whatever what was good and seeing Kaylee take the mystery pills killed them twice.
Birthday | Kaos + Spencer
They still had their old school ID’s so they got into Brookline easily, they milled in like ghosts and quietly walked through the halls of her dorm, fingers trailing along the walls, meeting once again like old friends. They didn’t say anything to each other, for recently they’ve said too much whatever they had to say was said already and those words were stale. They, by some odd turn of events seemed like strangers more than before, but now they played it cool because it was a day they both held dear—an almost hyperbolic notion for the two of them who often stand so stoically as if they’d never cared about a thing, but it was was Spencer Michaels’ birthday and a day like that could make anything melt. Os picked the lock on her door as Kaylee played lookout, there was a lit cigarette hanging from her lips, no doubt not allowed, but they were also picking a lock; the pair clearly had no care for rules. “Mother fucker,” He breathed out, jingling his thin tools. “It’s a dorm room not the fuckin’ bank of Americ—” He stopped talking once he heard the small click of the door coming undone, he flung the door open as soon as the knob would let him. He made way for her bed, sitting on top of the covers in the dim room, lit by only a window and whatever light the sky held. He let out a sigh, shuffling his lock picking tools back into his pocket for later use. Os shoved his hands in his pockets too, his knuckles showed red in whatever light they had in there, the skin that had only just started to heal was pealed back in angry-looking uneven patches. He didn’t regret it, it was bound to happen, he just didn’t want anyone to see them. It was Spence’s day. They’d give it to her without a fuss, even if she didn’t ask. He watched the door, feeling the small presence of Kaylee’s body on the mattress next to him. Two bad omens sitting in the dark, one lit by the cherry red of cigarette and other just a shadow.
They'd left the school the same way they entered now, stealing back into it under the blanket of nighttime. It wasn't hard, flashing their ID's at the gate like they'd just come back from a little drive instead of a trip spanning a few months, black car rolling in carrying two sullen and pale faced people, now too old to hold onto the excuse that they were just acting irresponsibly. There must be a party on campus somewhere, she swore she almost saw a tumble weed drift into their path. She could picture people she hadn't thought about in a long time, Blake Kennedy chugging beers dyed green and cracking jokes, Savannah Burton shimmering like a blonde Barbie Doll, Arielle Vanderbilt spreading some charm that was both strange and sweet at this event, they were like televisions flickering in an electronics store, and Os and her were merely intruders, creeping down the aisles and peering into their Technicolor lives.
She sucked down cigarette smoke while he opened the door, it took more than a minute full of rabbit heart beats to get it open. The last time she'd stepped into that room uninvited she'd ruined everything, thoughtless Shevel, putting things where they didn't belong. Kaylee wondered if Os could feel it, that nervous energy that chimed inside her, like someone had grabbed her by the hands and was ready to spin her dizzy.
Stepping in as soon as it gave, she shut the door behind them, taking a moment to peer around the room. Not much had changed, as far as she could tell, everything was neat and orderly, and it felt so much like Spencer a lump rose in her throat, and she had to fight to swallow it down, coaxing it away with few more puffs of her cigarette. Sitting beside him she half wondered if the blonde would scream when she saw them. Any regular sort of person would, they weren't a pair anyone would like to meet in the dark. “I should put this out,” she said finally, her voice sounding almost hoarse. She could just make out the silhouette of his face with the glow. “She might get pissed if it smells like smokes-” Kaylee was cut off by the sound of a key in the door.
not gonna die alone | Kaos
“I want to do what’s better,” Os said, shifting his dark gaze. “for once I want to do what’s fucking better.” He glanced back at Kaylee’s phone once more before handing it to her, if he looked at it too long the words would start swimming down the screen anyway, it was no use to keep the texts up. “Should I get a gun or some shit? I know a guy.” He clenched his jaw so tight that if he did it any tighter, he might fuck up his teeth. He didn’t give a shit about her secrets—he didn’t—but when they were blowing up in their faces like this, the only way to clear the way was to snuff them out. He was going to do something for her birthday, give her something she was never given and now he was going to instead know something about her he’d never known. It was tempting, all this shit he didn’t know, like the apple of eden, if he took a bite he was cursed. He never touched the apple, he never dug deeper than he needed to and there were reasons why he did that and it was mainly because there were things he would never tell about himself, things buried so deeply he wasn’t sure he even knew how to say them.
He pushed off of the car and walked around the front of it to the driver’s side. They were going, no turning back now. He yanked opened the door without word and slid into the driver’s side, he buckled his belt and waited for Kaylee to follow suit. A sick feeling coated his stomach, he could feel it spread like spilt ink. Things were changing, the bubble that separated them from the rest of the world was popped and they were out of soap. He frowned as he sunk deeper into his seat, hand moving towards the radio knob to fuck with the tunes. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.” He stated when he felt her slide into the passenger’s side.
He was braver than she was. She nodded, taking her phone back wordlessly. It was clamming her up, all the bullshit, but she knew he would understand, he had to understand. He had to know that he was one of the things she was trying to do better, trying not to fuck up somehow, but it was like walking across a valley of eggshells and praying that somehow she would make it across without disturbing a single one. The phone was still buzzing with each new message as she slid it into her pocket, probably something about how sick the party was going to be, each text reading out as 'waste, waste, waste.' Her head whipped up, “What the fuck are you going to do with a gun?” Flirting with death was one thing, balled up fists, pocket knives stained red, baseball bats in trunks, they teased at it, giving little glimpses at a pain to equate to the beyond but guns were noisy. There was nothing personal about a gun, all it did was kill. “Nobody's gonna need a fuckin' gun, this isn't a mob movie, Jesus.” She practically spat it out onto the pavement, hoping her words sounded less like fear than they tasted.
Pausing a half beat while Os climbed into the car, she inhaled the cold air deeply once more, filling her lungs with something fresh, like her lungs were just smoke stained shelves that a gust of Chicago air could wipe clean. There was a heaviness as she got into the dark car, like she was under a bunch of water, thousands of gallons pressing on her. He didn't have to say it. Her own pale hand reached for his, meeting it as he reached for the radio. Threading her fingertips through his, she held onto him with a light touch, she didn't have to squeeze to let him know she was there. “I'll kill 'em first.”
not gonna die alone | Kaos
"I sure as fuck know my answers aren’t in hell." He pointed out, throwing the cigarette he only just lit to the ground because he was too livid to keep it in his hands, they were almost shaking at this point and he blamed it on the cold he was trying hard to ignore. He was so fucking worried, so fucking betrayed, he didn’t even know why, the beating in his chest felt like it was about to falter, the beats were erratic, thumping with the fact that he cared too fucking much for this girl who was he only noticed now was so much like a stranger, but too familiar to be called one. For so long things with Kaylee felt like a dream, now that feeling was decaying around them, someone ate the apple and they were banished from that dream. "I know that, I know." He said, deflated and his shoulders even sagged with that, he knew Kaylee wasn’t someone you could tell what to do. His back became a little less straight against the door of the car, the same feeling he had when she shoved thousands of dollars into his glove compartment settled over him, he was shocked, but he played it cool because that’s what he thought she wanted. He reached one of his hands to his hair and lightly yanked at the short curls that were sprouting at the back of his head. He stepped closer once she let the phone out, the daylight hit the screen like a beacon, but instead of making it visible, the contrast made it a little harder to read. He squinted at the screen, the words registering in the matter of seconds. “Oh, fuck, Kaylee.” He said, almost turning away, but curiosity won instead. “What the fuck is going on?” He asked, taking the phone in his hand, he scrolled up a little more to read the rest of the convo. He always knew that Kaylee had her secrets, he knew they were deep, he had his own too, that he just as well didn’t like to spit into the open air. However, now Kaylee’s had no choice but to let themselves out. He knew she was tied to something nasty, something lined with powders and piles of cash. He just didn’t think it would show up like this, so in your face and needy. He looked over at Kaylee, meeting the blue’s of her eyes, he was confused, not knowing what sort of move to make. He had a knife in the pocket of his jeans and a bat in his car, he wasn’t ready for what was on the other end of the text. “I’m coming with you,” He said despite the stirring in his gut. “Let me come with you.”
She could turn her back right now, she could end this all in a second. Leaving wasn't hard, not for people like her, she wasn't the oak in the ancient forest, she did not put down roots that would survive centuries, she was never tied down to one place or one time. It wasn't leaving that was hard, it was staying. In leaving there was a safety, an anonymity. You can't get hurt if no one can know you. She could tell him to fuck off, a phrase stuck in default. She could walk away, and it would be so fucking easy, one foot in front of the other while she told herself she could live with it, she could live without him. God, she was fucked, she had to recognize it the second his bravado fell, as soon as his shoulders went from square to defeated. Her heart was caught up in her throat, thumping hard and fast and threatening to choke her. She was fucked and she wasn't going anywhere, she was rooted down to where ever he was, and that realization terrified her. Kaylee looked at the cigarette tossed to the ground, watched as it gasped for a couple more seconds of life. She wished he'd kept shouting. It was easier to fight something angry, two pitbulls in a ring were bred to spill blood, a surrender was unfamiliar territory.
She shoved her hands deep inside her pockets. She hated Chicago, she hated it for doing this to them. It was easier to blame a city than her own shitty past, like blaming the stars for misfortune. He read the messages, and she looked at his hands rather than him. They dwarfed the phone, and they hadn't bled in weeks. She'd joked the other day that he could go into hand modelling now that they didn't look like a relic from a war zone, and he glared, shooting back something about fucking up the photographer right before they could get a decent photo of his new 'pretty' hands. “I don't know,” Kaylee replied, finally turning her gaze up. It was the truth, mostly. As much truth as she could give. No secrets was threatening to ruin them, she was beginning to see it. The rules were only good if the past stayed buried, and hers weren't six feet under anymore, they were roaming the surface now. They craved attention, and they were hungry.
She'd called Spencer and told her she was afraid for him. Afraid of what she might do to hurt him, what might happen to him because of her. But he'd asked. He asked for it, and she looked at him, light eyes on dark ones. They would betray her, those eyes of hers, and she nodded. “I want you to come.” Kaylee wasn't sure how the words slipped out, how they could get past the heart shaped lump. “But I don't know what's going to happen. It'd be easier if we left...” She trailed off, looking at the highway that roared behind him, the truckers and the families on trips and the people off to work, all tutting away in their cars. “But not better.”
not gonna die alone | Kaos
"I’ve never seen anyone ask for a cig like that." Os said, his dark eyes were following the car still, not looking over to Kaylee as she spoke. He should have stopped the guy, grabbed his fucking collar and shoved him into the side of the sleepy gas station till he sang a choked tune and rattled awake the bricks with the promise of a fight, abet one sided at this point, but a fight no less. He kept his fists in his pockets, the only thing on his knuckles were ghosts, old scars and old cuts, if they had shit for people addicted to fighting, like those damned AA meetings, Os would have a growing pile of cheap chips for the taking, rattling in his palms, ready to be shoved back to their maker. He was pissed, downright, in your face, pissed off. It was a new kind of a pissed, one that followed the car, another that wrapped around his heart and squeezed, constricting the blood every which way, making it sing in a way that told him that he was pissed at her above all else. Pissed at Kaylee for lying, for not being truthful to him when they were like this. She could tell him anything and he would take it down without so much as a second thought, didn’t she know that, didn’t she know what this was? He crossed his arms and leaned back so that his spine thumped against his car door, he wasn’t going anywhere, he was going to get something out of her. “Don’t lie to me. What the fuck was that guy doing? No stranger just runs like that at the sight of me, anyway. He was up to something.” He fussed with his hand in his pockets, snaking out a pack of cigarettes he just bought, he popped one between his lips and lit it up. The weather was cold, the wind threatened to snuff out the flame, but Os dealt with it. He saw Kaylee type out something on his phone and every nerve in his body wanted to snap and grab it from her hands and read everything on there, to learn the answer’s he was looking for, but he wouldn’t, at least not yet. “No ones going anywhere till I get some answers.” He narrowed his eyes, hating everything about this whole thing. “No lies, I know liars.” He didn’t like asking Kaylee to be straight, they had their rule, but Os called this an exception. As if he were the only one to make the rules. He crossed his arms as he flicked the ash onto the gravel that was messily distributed across the parking lot, he’d wait all day, let the wind blow him away—or at least try to.
He wouldn't avoid it, it was obvious now, there was no skirting around this. Blink twice and it was gone. It wasn't that she gave a shit about the nervous little prick in the car driving away from them, she wouldn't have blinked twice if Os had done a number on him with the baseball bat, they were violent people with no violent end. She thought of a retort, something equally harsh to fire back, but her phone was buzzing, and it required her attention. Os wasn't the kind of person you could just put on hold, especially not like this, when his eyes were burning black. Maybe something inside her was rotting, maybe something was wasting away, there had to be a reason why she let things like this happen, why she couldn't keep her head straight, why she'd rather spit out something riddled with decay than tell the truth. It was cold, but she was angry, and if anger could burn a hole right through you, it could sure as hell keep her warm.
It burned a little hotter, flaring like the god damn sun when he hit against the car, like a defiant kid. I'll hold my breath until you do what I want. “How the fuck should I know why anyone does whatever?” He had right to be angry, and she hated that he saw through the lie so easily. He couldn't know liars all that well, he'd taken up with one. Lies and half truths were a religion, and she couldn't quit it, it was in her system. Suppressed maybe, time with Os on the road had brought out more truth than usual, but it was there. He was breaking rules, anyways. “Going nowhere? Fuck you. You want answers, you can go to hell for 'em,” she spat it out, pissed. “You have to get it straight you know? It doesn't mean shit,” Kaylee paused, baited breath, pulling feelings into words wasn't her strong suit. “Just 'cause we're this doesn't mean I answer to you. I don't fucking answer to anyone.” She glared once more, for good measure, eyes hard. This was a casualty of having two equal ounces of chaos mixed together. It was bittersweet, a coin made for flipping. Before he could answer, she shoved her phone at him, an address on the screen. She'd let that do the talking for now.
[voice mail left on February 26, 2015 at 1:09 am]
You crossed my mind today and I figured I’d give you a call, see how you were. It’s been a while since we’ve spoken and I..you’re probably fine, I know that, but I’d feel better if I hadn’t gotten your voicemail again.
[pauses as she tries to find a way to explain her thoughts, her tone thoughtful as she slowly rambles on]
You know how old people seem to have a certain air of nostalgia that others can’t seem to match, how they miss everything and everyone they seem to have had contact with over the years, reliving their glory days to their family members and anyone else who’ll listen, reminiscing on what had been and comparing it to how things are now? I’m barely in my twenties, but I’ve started to feel that way. Everyone’s always said that I’ve got an old soul, but I don’t think it’s ever felt more old than it has lately.
[exhales, still sorting]
I think I’ve gotten softer…I don’t argue as much, nor speak my mind. I’ve stayed quiet on things that have bothered me for months now out of fear and I..I didn’t use to be like that. People would ask for my opinion and I’d give it to them, or do so without being prompted, but things are different now and I can’t tell if I’ve matured or weakened
—And that last bit both worries and terrifies me.
[silence for a few seconds before she continues on, unable to mask the raw honesty in her voice]
Do you remember that night in the tunnels when I wouldn’t fight back? [slight pause, nervous laugh] Dumb question. But that night, I was weak and powerless and I didn’t act the way I expected to, the way others expected me to, and I think, to some degree, that’s how I feel now.
[tone change to her original nostalgic stance]
It’s weird, you know, when things are going really really well and everything still somehow seems to crash around your shoulders, hitting you in a way you hadn’t thought possible.
[another quiet laugh] I guess that’s my long winded way to tell you that I miss you. Because I do.
I hope you’re having a nice night, Empress.
[there’s one final pause before the phone cuts out]
not gonna die alone | Kaos
os-lafleur: It was like some goddamn black and white movie he’d seen on his shitty television set years ago, something his dad left on—for a bastard he was always reminiscent, old movies and bands were always buzzing around their shitty Brooklyn apartment—It was from It’s a Wonderful Life or something as sappy as that. George Bailey telling Mary he’d give her the damn moon, tie a lasso around it and yank it down to earth as a prize. He’d do that for her, give her anything she wanted. But she never did ask for much. He just made a face back at her at the mention of the drugs, it was a joke, she didn’t usually ask for him to partake, he usually didn’t. Os didn’t like the messiness of drugs, at least on him, he wasn’t the type to be strung out, popping a pill and growing tongue tied in the most profound of ways wasn’t something people like him did. He was stoic, it was why he liked his old man drink, it kept him solid, quiet. He never cared what Kaylee took because she was always still Kaylee, sometimes a little more, sometimes a little less, as long as she still wore her face he was alright with it. No questions about how many empty bottles he had clanging on the floor of his back seat, no questions about whatever she was on. No questions at all and he was sure that would be alright for as long as they were set onwards. “It’s a big fucking city, I’m sure there’s more than those three things there. I want to go somewhere thats already awake, y’know?” He missed the buzz of busy cities, Chicago was New York without the ghosts and ghouls. A blank slate covered in city grime. He shoved his hands into his pockets when he made his way towards the small convenience store, he always had the habit of looking like trouble, it was only a prize when he got it in return. As soon as he entered the ding from the door movement made a the few people in there look at him, Os just casted his eyes away and walked towards the candy Isle. He could feel a set of eyes still on him, waiting for him to shove something into his pocket. He almost did it to, for his own satisfaction, maybe he’d punch the skinny guy behind the counter for his own gain and get out with a handful of candy bars for free. Instead he grabbed a pack of cherry Twizzlers and walked up to the counter. He narrowed his eyes at the man behind it and asked for two packs of Marbolos. He paid, handing him a crumpled up wad of cash, part of the lump sum he grabbed from an atm towns away. His money was tethered to his mother, she didn’t really care as long as he showed up when she needed to pug on a show for the world that she was a good mother. Which wasn’t often, thank fuck. Os liked to think that it was her way of making sure he stayed a good length away till she was ready for him. Just when he started shoving the shit into his pockets he caught something outside of the window behind the register. As man on the other end counted his change loudly like Os would doubt him or something, his thoughts were elsewhere, out of the store and looking at Kaylee. He saw the unsettling arch in her shoulders, the mock laughter that came from the guy’s lips—it was fire then, change forgotten. “Keep it you poor fuck.” He spat out before making a prompt exit, slamming the door behind him. The bell rang loud, like a omen of sorts. The guy ran at the sight of him, which pissed him off. He was going to take a few quick strides over towards his car and maybe see what the fuck his problem was if he didn’t lose control of his fists before he could ask. He let him go, though, and walked towards Kaylee instead. He was fucking worried and that didn’t happen too often, ‘fuck it’s were more his style, but this wasn’t something he could brush off. “What the fuck was that, Kaylee?” He asked as the fucker’s car finally started, Os’ own fingers pressed on his keys still in his pocket. He wanted to jump into his car and follow him. “Should I go after him?”
She remembered the first time she saw him on that Boston campus, how she thought his face was more storm that human, clouded over and brimming with something sinister, threatening to crackle over with electricity. He'd snapped when she threw things his way, the clouds rolling in, a monsoon on the horizon. His features were arranged like that now, like he was one of Zeus' own, thunder and lightening in his blood stream, the son of a god. She didn't know his parents, had never seen his father or his mother, but she liked to imagine them as celestial, rage and beauty coming together to create a complicated boy, one with thunder and lightening in his blood, but with the softness that came with mortal flesh. Greek heroes were flawed, they weren't perfect and she liked that best. Hercules had his madness and Achilles his heel. It was a romanticized idea, a boy born from sea foam or delivered by singing zephyrs, but she entertained it all the same.
She liked the old stories, and she'd read enough of them to know the wrath of gods, she'd seen enough fight club to know it was true. When he was fighting it was a display of it, the curious mix of immortal and man, bruised flesh and split lips, adrenaline singing and spirits soaring. He hesitated, he could have grabbed Pete but he paused instead, letting him make the exit. One of her best party tricks was composure, second best was telling tales. She shook her head. “He just wanted to bum a smoke, I think.” He might not believe it, but all that was left was tail lights that blurred out of view, no solid proof of a lie. There was a danger to letting Pete get away, the version of herself that answered to Kayla had been a ghost up until now, now she was a ghost who still walked and talked, and those were the kind that no one would take for dead.
“Don't know,” she let out, like a breath she didn't know she was holding. Pete would talk, he'd tell, he was weak, more weasel than person, and she'd disappeared. She'd left ends untied, the ends of thick cord, the kind that held back dogs that bit. Letting him go was a chance, but was there another choice? Two can keep a secret, if one of them is dead. The silly phrase rang through her head, and she bit down hard on her tongue. Never, they weren't killers. “He thought he knew me. Mistook me for someone else.” She pushed back a heavy brown curl, tucking it behind her ear. “Let's just fucking go. Find a place already ruined to rule.” Kaylee nodded towards the car, shoving her hands deep into her pockets, the cold turning her fingertips red. Her phone vibrated, her hand already around it. Pulling it out she read the message as she walked to the car, a number she didn't know. <<Still get high?>> It was an invitation for the kind of birthday dinner she enjoyed best. The sender wasn't unknown, it was the same man with the get away car kind of attitude. He had been a travelling salesmen of sorts when she knew him, he knew what she liked. Kaylee looked at Os for a moment, digits hovering over the phone before she typed in her response. There was so much he didn't know. <<Address and time>>
She hit send. He'd learn some things soon enough.
[A voice mail left on Kaylee’s phone. Spencer’s tone, though a bit apologetic, is calm and even despite struggling to find the right words to express her thoughts on the matter. When she’s finished, there’s a moment where it almost feels like she’d add another line in, a final word, before the call ends.]
I’ve been meaning to call, I have, and that’s..it’s a little late for excuses there, but I should have taken the moment and done and I’m sorry I didn’t. I’ve never been fond of voicemails; I like keeping them and listening back on occasion, but leaving them feels so cold. It’s a one way conversation and I’d much rather have there be on the receiving end to tell when I’m rambling on for too long or if anything I’m saying actually makes sense.
I’ve listened to yours twice now and each time, my gut reaction isn’t to believe that it’s you in the coffin, that you’re looking at yourself. Maybe that’s a little self-absorbed or self-sacrificial of me, but it’s easier if it’s not you, though, then again, it wasn’t my dream. I can’t imagine what that felt like, what the experience brought on, but that wasn’t what you asked, so I’ll stop beating around the bush and get right to the heart of it.
There are different kinds of love and while I could sit here and lay out the various forms for you, that’s not entirely relevant to the discussion. Being afraid of leaving someone behind though…it shows you care, on a much deeper level than something fickle or fleeting. Your love might not resemble fairytales and happy endings, the cut out versions we’re all expected to feel at some point in our lives, the cliché mirrors of what relationships ought to be, but that doesn’t discredit your feelings. You were scared of him hurting after you were gone, instead of what might have happened to you, and that..is some form of love.
It’s late and I should let you go, but..for what it’s worth, Shevel. He wouldn’t be the only person hurting if something happened to you. You’d be leaving more than Os behind.
Thank you for the congratulations. I’ll speak to you soon.
not gonna die alone | Kaos
The exit was coming up so he flicked up his blinker with one swift movement, and then suddenly, the Highway was disintegrating in the rear view mirrors. “Well, you might not remember this time, too.” He said wryly, easing into the lane that best fit their destination. When people weren’t pissing him off on the road, driving was a lazy thing, creeping over the speed limits, the buzz of the radio in the background and his girl in the passenger side making it look like something special, no longer an empty spot in the corner of his vision. He was a fucking goner and it was about time he accepted it. ”Yeah, the kites are what I use to wrap the bodies up with. So those are out of commision right now.” He was joking, of course, amusement pulled at his lips as he glanced Kaylee’s way.
When they reached one, he pulled over to a gas station. At the moment it was only a little populated, a few scattered cars in the lot that Os really didn’t give a shit about since he found a spot okay. “You want anything?” He asked Kaylee, undoing his seatbelt, he wasn’t sure if she wanted to go in or not and didn’t bother asking. She’d follow if she wanted to, or stay in the car and fuck with the radio, either way, he wouldn’t mind. “I gotta pay for gas and cigs.” He’d maybe grab her something in there like a pack of twizzlers. It wouldn’t be her birthday present, he’s been thinking about that one a lot, what exactly do you get a girl who doesn’t really give a shit about much? You find something she’ll give a little more than a shit about.
She widened her eyes, pulling a face as she looked over, “Gonna score some E and get fucked with me?” She was teasing, he hadn't slipped up, and she didn't ask him too. Never seriously. He didn't look down on the pills she tucked under her tongue sometimes, didn't say much when she took them like little candies that shot her into space. Reserved judgement and questions swallowed back before they spilled out made for an existence that was less messy. She thought too much maybe, more than she gave away, and she drew it all down, sucking nicotine down right to the filter. She rolled down the window a little, flicking what remained of her cigarette out, the cherry burning bright as it burned out, disappearing from view.
She looked at him and wanted him to be hers, but he wasn't the sort of person that could be owned by another heart, he wasn't a weak, delicate thing that needed someone else to love them to make them mean something. She was content with this moment of loving him, this brief flicker, his lips dressed up in a smile. This was loving him, wasn't it? She'd left a message on Spencer's phone about it, shit scared one night, because it stuck in her throat, this idea. “Well shit, I hope there's a deck of cards somewhere,” she let out, exhaling the last of cigarette smoke that sat in the bottom of her lungs, her tongue like an ash tray, “What else is there in Chicago but wind? Musicals and shit? Capone museums?”
He parked sloppy, and she hardly looked up, shaking her head at his question. She'd need to stretch her legs, but she waited for him to disappear into the shitty little convenience store first, grabbing up her lighter and her almost empty pack. Chicago was shit cold, and her fingertips were going red, the wind just enough to fuck up the little light she was trying to pull from her lighter, slipping between her thin fingers and huffing it out.
“Hey!”
Kaylee looked up, eyebrows drawn together, smoke dangling from her lips. She only half recognized the speaker, as if he was something her mind had made up in a dream, there was a haze of familiarity to his features. He came closer, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, expression caught between two things, too conflicted to read properly.
“Kayla, right?
She looked at the door of the store and begged it to keep him inside for another minute, just long enough so he wouldn't see. There were things about her that he didn't know, and they were ugly. “Nah, got it wrong. Don't know you.” She plucked the thing from her mouth and put it inside her pocket, hands already curling into something small. “Sorry.” She tossed it out the apology like an after thought.
“I know you,” he insisted, coming closer, “You're Joe's girl. Always peaked, I remember. Where've you been Kayla?” He was crooning it now, like he'd caught her. Wedged her between a rock and a hard place and was demanding that she sing. “Joe's been missing you, last I heard.”
“Fuck off,” Kaylee hissed, “I'm not Kayla.” And she wasn't, not anymore. Her fists were small but they'd been called mean before, and one or two peppered in the soft under ribs should do him in, he looked hooked, shaky hands and a little pale, like he was one or two hits from the ultimate high, from really scraping the sky. She remembered his name now, Pete something. The bell of the door rang out, Os was heading back and Pete looked over, picking out the body as too big and the expression too angry to want to fuck with.
“See you around, Kayls,” he let out, picking out his own shit box car and sliding in. He started it, the engine only catching after the second try. He was probably trying too hard, Os tended to do that to people, made them run.
not gonna die alone | Kaos
On Kaylee’s birthday, Os figured they should change their course once more. He was sure eventually they would lose a place to run to, salvation would be nonexistent soon because at some point they would cross every state, bleed them all dry and have nothing but bones left. For now, they had time, it stuck to them like burdock after running through tall grass. They had just taken a few choice cities in their closed fists and rattled them, they stomped their feet and curled their smiles in those sleepy towns, waking them up from their drowsy comatose state and making them sizzle. He knew a few damned souls in Chicago, they mingled in Brooklyn at one point then scattered like a handful of dropped marbles, rolling along towards every corner of the States. He came across them a few months back, they popped out against the contrast of Massachusetts once while he was at school, they knew Os by his black eyes and put an arm around his tense shoulders. Brooklyn blood ran smooth. He’d be welcomed into the windy city, but that was only if he saw them. He looked over at Kaylee when she wasn’t paying attention, she had a cigarette tipped lazily from her thin fingers, pointing towards the ground in a sad forgotten kind of way. Her eyes were always bright no matter what and he figured they’d be like that when she hit ninety—if she ever did— at time like this, when the street lights hit them just right they looked almost unreal. He was constantly wondering what rattled around behind them, but he would die before he ever asked. She was another year older as of today. She still looked the same as the day they met, which oddly enough wasn’t too long ago so it wasn’t surprising. He sometimes had to remind himself that. This girl is a stranger, you don’t ask her questions and you’re fine with that. You’re fucking strangers and you sleep in the same bed with the same questionable sheets. You’re strangers and your heart turns into a savage thing when you get talking. You’re strangers and she’s your world right now and god is she something else. ”Ever been to Chicago, birthday girl?” He asked as he turned into the exit for their next fated destination. “I fuckin’ hate the White Sox.”
In every stupid stereotypical way, she hated birthdays, she hated the turning of the clock that she couldn't pause, something she couldn't make stop. Birthdays made other kids smile, they counted down the days with clasped hands and hopeful eyes. She remembered when she was a kid and someone in the park told her, “just ten more days 'till I turn nine,” like it was an accomplishment, like they had personally achieved something. She didn't get it when she was little, she didn't understand how someone could be excited for something that just happens to them, without their control, but most kids got the cake and a party and balloons and shit, and she guessed that when it came down to that kind of big kaboom, a regular kind of kid could get pretty worked up about it. What the fuck was twenty two? Twenty had been hard to swallow, it lodged in her throat and only slid down after a tray of shots and a line or two of something angel wing white, twenty one had been worse, she'd learned you couldn't find eternal youth at the bottom of the bottle or on the lips of every pretty sinner in a bar. Twenty two was a snarl, a cigarette wedged between lips and a silence.
At sixteen she told the world she wouldn't see twenty five, but that was a blink from now. Self pity day, mark it on your calendar. The car tires were eating up road, they'd lost interest in old towns in a Dorian Gray sort of way, that kind of ugliness lost it's appeal and they were city kids at heart, they needed something dirty, the clean air of country towns was something they could choke on. She sucked down more cigarette smoke, bringing it down too quickly her throat burning a little but her lungs so ruined she wouldn't cough, her eyes watching what passed. A crumpled house, a cluster of trees. She hazed it all in smoke before turning to him, sort of lazy. Nicotine was the only drug flooding her veins and that was comfortable, good enough. Pills and powders made things shiny or dull, but Os made them clear, striking in their clarity, all the ugly and beautiful so apparent it almost hurt. “Once, I think. Can't remember it though.” She ignored the birthday girl part, pretend it didn't feel like crushed glass under foot. “Got a bunch of kites hidden in the trunk? Windy city, or something?”
Do Me a Favour - Arctic Monkeys
do me a favour and ask if you need some help she said, “do me a favour and stop flattering yourself”
putting the dog to sleep // the antlers
prove to me i’m not gonna die alone put your arm around my collarbone and open the door
are you active or inactive
[10:19:46 PM] sammers .: bitch depends who is chasing me
Letter hastily written on motel stationary. The pages were held up to a shitty lighter as soon as the ink dried, sending it up in smoke and ash.
Dear Os,
Your name looks like a fuck up sometimes, you know? It used to look weird when I typed it on my phone or wrote it out in a note. Like you were trying to pass off two letters as a name, two jumbled letters that have no business being together. You've always hated your full name, quick to correct it, “It's Os, like the fuckin' wizard.” Don't get pissed, it doesn't look like a fuck up anymore. It makes sense now. You need a name that's short and quick, something like a bop to the nose or a fist in a gut.
Maybe they should've called you Peter. Peter Pan, the boy who didn't want to grow up. Kids run away from home, that's what someone told me once, when I was in the grocery store and you were picking up something in another aisle. A little old lady, she looked at what we were wearing and I guess she could see something like happy on my face, I guess that's how she knew that we weren't fucking trapped there. That we had run away, and Neverland was where ever the fuck we wanted it to be.
She said “Only kids run away,” she spat that out, like it was something shitty to do, like we had mummies and daddies who lit a candle and put it on the window sill, waiting for their babies to crawl back into their arms. Like we were fucking pathetic, worrying their old hearts. I was pissed, but you can't fuck up old ladies, right? There's laws and shit about that.
I didn't tell you 'cause I figured you might try. You've been looking for fights everywhere, and maybe I have too. I'm throwing fuck you's down the throat of every person who gets in my way or looks at me sideways for lighting a cigarette when there's a kid around or something, and you tried to fuck up a bus boy for taking a plate away from you. There was this blonde tool at Brookline once who fed me a line about stars, and how they're chaos that's just barely held together and I never thought that would mean anything until now, where my knuckles are lily white and I'm craving painting them something a little blacker, a little bluer.
I guess I'm trying to say I get it, if you want to fuckin' hit something sometime, I'm not gonna freak out or anything. I think the old lady might have had it all fucked up, you know? Running away wasn't what made us kids. We didn't run from anything. There was nothing to run from, just a bullshit degree that we would've only gotten to pass some time, and bullshit people with too much shit to say but with nothing real ever leaving their mouths. We didn't run. We just left.
There's another thing, a point to all this wasted paper and ink. I left it to the end to say it, 'cause I was trying to find courage somewhere in these flimsy limbs and sorry if my handwriting starts getting shitty, it's been awhile since I've had a cig and my hand is shaking. That's the only excuse you're fuckin' getting.
One night, I almost got in a cab and left you in the dead end motel, 'cause I thought you were fucking me up. The pills were running out by then, and I would wake up with a dry mouth and chill I couldn't shake, and I was sweating, thought I could be dying, but that's what detox is, yeah? I wanted to get away and swallow down everything I had left and get monumentally fucked up, one last hurrah and then disappear. Leave you for dust. But you were fucking me up, and I'm still trying to figure out if it's in a good way because I couldn't leave.
I can't ever fucking leave, and that's the promise I'm gonna make. It's the only promise I'll make you, alright? I'll be here.
- Kaylee