a little messed up (but we’re all alright)
this post is for zozo and zozo alone but brownie points are available to whomever can guess the song from the title
🩷🩷 clearing out a kid drafts is so fun 🩷🩷
“Light it,” he demanded. His hands landed on his knees, feeling a bit twitchy with anxiety. “One smoke- or drag- whatever. I’m trying it once. That’s it.”
Tank huffed a laugh, raising the lighter to the joint. “If you say so.”
They turned around and rose to their knees, crawling over to the window. With a small bit of effort, Tank popped the window open. Cool air filtered in, which David embraced gratefully. He watched as they settled back in front of him and carefully lit the end of the brown paper, letting the joint smolder for a moment before placing it between their lips. Tank sucked in a deep breath.
David quickly realized this was not their first time doing this.
A plume of smoke rose toward the ceiling when they pulled the joint away from their mouth. David watched it swirl as it rose higher before dissipating entirely. Like it was never there at all.
Visually, at least.
“This stuff stinks,” David commented dryly.
Tank deadpanned, letting the joint fall slack in their hand. “Well, it’s not supposed to smell like roses. It’s supposed to get you high. Here, hold this.”
They hold out the joint expectantly, and David takes it after a moment of thought. *Did he really want to do this?* He eyed the joint, rolling it between his fingers experimentally. It was light, slightly warm against his skin. The smell of it was stronger this close. David crinkled his nose. *I don’t want to smell like that,* he thought to himself.
“How long are you going to stare at it?” Tank asked playfully.
David grumbled in irritation. “Don’t rush me,” he snipped back with no real bite to his words. He lifted the joint to his lips, pressing the brown paper into his mouth and sucking in.
*This seems easy enough-*
Something caught in his throat and immediately, David broke out coughing.
“Oh my god,” Tank said with a sigh, reaching for their water bottle. They handed it to David, who pulled a face. “Don’t be a germaphobe, weirdo. Drink.”
David snatched the water from their hand, unscrewing the cap and drinking from it quickly. The ache in his throat eased but still lingered. He gave Tank a quizzical look, who laughed in response.
“You didn’t do it right,” they replied. Taking the joint from his hands- David gave it *more* than willingly- Tank lifted it in between them. “Let me show you.”