Drunk Without Cause

Eighteen.

The door opened quietly, the group of teenagers all turning to him from where they sat on his stoop. Nessa asked them to wait out there while he changed and brushed his hair out. The waves had been tangled to all hell from two days worth of tossing and turning anxiously in bed. He was tired, sleep deciding to avoid his head for what felt like ages, but was really only two days. There were a few occasions were he would doze off, only to wake up ten minutes later, feeling as though he was constantly being watched.

He kept the purple sweatshirt on, his head too busy to care if it were dirty. But he changed his pants into light blue cuffed jeans, and threw on a pair of ombré pink and blue converse. On his way to the door, he made sure to tuck his phone within his pocket and leave a small note on the counter for his parents to find if they were to come home before him. Then he found himself outside, all of his friends standing up from the porch to look him over

It took him no time at all to be studying them each more than they were him. He felt safer when surrounded by them all, so he tried to ignore that alarm in his head, and force himself to relax. No one said that everything would instantly fall apart as soon as he were to see Mr. Miller's face. Nessa simply had to force himself to realize that.

There was something so relieving about being outside for the first time in 48 hours. Though it was a weak excuse, Nessa convinced his parents that he was sick enough to stay home for both days. His mom fretted over him nonstop, making him soups, checking his temperature, offering him medications. Anything to help make him feel better. It was sweet of her, but he didn't need any of that like he thought he did. Being held wasn't enough. Because he had been held before, and that didn't change anything then.

As though he had never been outside before, Nessa gazed at the wilted violets that once were striking to look at. They made him smile softly, because it reminded him of when they were first planted just after they moved here. They were beautiful, whether dead or alive. Just as anything was. He missed his philosophy, so focused on stressful thoughts as of late to allow himself time to think about the pleasantries in life. Like his friends.

"Hey." Kiwi grinned kindly. He had sweater paws when he waved. It made Nessa fill with much needed warmth. "How've you been?"

"I'm alright." He said it, and found that it felt a bit more true than he thought it would. "I  just haven't been feeling well."

"Are you sure you want to come out then?" Kiwi worried, furrowing his brow. "I don't want you feeling any worse. We can leave and let you rest."

It was nice to know that Venice had kept his word just as Nessa thought he would. They exchanged glances for an almost nonexistent moment, Venice's hand hovering over his pocket. Probably feeling the weight of a switchblade. Sometimes Nessa wondered why those blades meant so much to him.

"No, I don't mind it, really." Nessa told him, because it was true. "There's a park down the street from here. We can go talk there."

So that was where they went, six teens who most certainly didn't appear like they belonged on the side of a residential street. Nessa liked that about them. He felt unique when he stood by their side, because each of them were so unbelievably cool. His thoughts trailed back to California, and all of the things he did while living there. Maybe that made him unique too, but not in a beautiful way.

The park was small, consisting of a few picnic benches, a worn down jungle gym, some swings, and an old basketball court. They sat at one of the farther away ones, where they could lounge about and would probably go unnoticed for the most part. There were a few kids running up the ladders, and giggling as they descended the slide. There was a cool breeze drifting past, the sky peppered with cumulus clouds. Trees were turning warm tints as autumn began to reign over Chicago.