⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ ACT ONE ⇢ Sucker Punch. PART TWO, Introspection (Pancakes)
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
CUT TO: SCENE ONE DAY TWO—12:28 AM
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
₊˚ˑ🏮🧳*ೃ༄
THE WINDOW BECKONED HIM; the wind whispered his name. Join me, it proposed; he kindly obliged its wistful command. It was hours later now, somewhere around 12:30, and Tommy needed out. So, he took one step, then another, then another. Climbing out the window into the rebellious winds. It didn't matter that it was his first day here—no—it never did. He just needed out. And so, with an iPod on 74%, twenty dollars that he'd saved up, and absolutely no self preservation instinct, he set out on his newest rendezvous.
He scampered along the wooden roofing, and made his way to what looked like, the back of the house. After a bit of searching he locked eyes on the rain-pipe. Perfect. He tightened his hands around the cold metal and slipped down the pipe and onto the wet lawn.
He let his legs carry him to the city centre, which was about twenty minutes away (well twenty minutes away driving, walking it was more like an hour).
He passed a small pub, he could see a couple looking at each other lovingly. He could see them holding hands, fingers interlaced on the bare dark wood. He glanced up at the sign, The Kings Head. The lettering was bold and engraved on the old worn wood. The rain-swollen night was filled with the noises of civilization. The delights of the early night being splattered onto the pavement, The clanking of glasses, the sound of birds, the patter of the rain, engines whirring harmoniously, a distant conversation about an upcoming protest. He always liked the night it reminded him that he existed just as much as any passerby. The smell of wet concrete complimented the lively night beautifully.
He walked up to the closest stranger he saw, "Excuse me?" The man acknowledged him, "Is there a park nearby?"
"Yes, it's just that way." The man stretched his arm and pointed, "its about a ten minute walk"
He made his way to a pond, the moon glimmered onto the pristine water. The light ricocheted off of the water and on to him, his skin, his hair, his clothing. It washed over him like the rain. Maybe, I can be here? Maybe I can be in that house. I like the cups. Tommy sat down onto the damp soil. No, no I don't belong. He dug his left hand into his right wrist. It ached. That was what he needed though. But if I don't belong anywhere then who's to say I shouldn't stay?
He let himself take in the scenery and noises instead of pondering that much longer. The park was much gentler than the city's nightlife. He could hear the rain splashing against the pond, a bird ruffling its feathers, the wind whipping against the old oak trees, birds singing, his shallow breaths.
