#ssantinisms

[prkrearchive]

parker is not an organized person, so it’s really no surprise when he goes looking for something only to realize that he can’t fucking find it. today it’s his guitar pick, because he apparently only has the one. he’s practically tearing through the apartment, carelessly tossing things out of his way when the front door swings open. “have you seen my pick?” he hardly even spared a glance at sid, but knew that it had to be him walking in. / @ssantinisms

[prkrearchive]

he isn’t staying long. or at all. there’s just a few things he needs, stuff he’d forgotten in his rush to leave the city. part of him also knows that he should talk to sid. if not to explain himself, then at least for the purpose of getting some legal advice from someone he trusts. it’s around two or three in the morning when he steps into the apartment they once shared, his slumped frame and haggard appearance immediately enveloped by the darkness. he was surprised that his key actually worked. changing the locks seems like something sid would do. he’s probably angry. maybe he doesn’t even want to see his douchebag roommate who left one night and never fucking came back. shrugging off his backpack with a sigh, he haphazardly began picking through their living room. he probably should’ve been quieter, or at least paid more attention to other noises around the apartment. spinning on his heel with armfuls of stuff, everything almost fell to the ground in a heap when he nearly collided with a figure he probably should’ve expected to see. “fucking hell, sid.” / @ssantinisms