𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚊𝚕𝚜/𝚛𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚗

𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗

My eyes burst open, the only thing I'm aware of being my heartbeat actively pounding at the nightmare I just woke up from, my body sweating underneath my sheets.

I hated those dreams. I'd always suffered from not being able to tell whether what I was dreaming about was actually happening, so being in a nightmare was never fun.

I mop the sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand, trying to focus on getting my breathing back on track. I flick the little switch to my white lamp on my bedside table, and remove the chunky covers from my flushed body whilst continuing to remind myself I was awake, in reality.

My breathing began to settle so I lift my heavy body out of bed and leave my bedroom, heading down the stairs as quietly as I could, passing the living room which was filled with the sounds of loud snores.

Peeking my head through the tiny gap in the door i'd made, I notice my dad and brother both asleep on the 2 mesh couches, Jake half falling off, about to slump to the floor. I left him there though, there was no way I was gonna stop him from falling.

I chuckle to myself before quietly closing the door, and began to make my way to the kitchen for a late night snack.

I pass the back door, and spot a boy sitting on the bench outside glaring into the pool, a cigarette in his hand.

He has his elbows on his knees, as he lifts the smoke up to his mouth and took a pull, the reflection of the garden lights outside gleaming onto his silver rings.

I slide open the back door, causing him to turn his head round quickly to look at me, but I remain inside as the unwelcoming breeze left goosebumps all over me.

"what you doing out here? It's late" I softly ask the boy, who looked as if he had a lot on his mind.
"just, thinking" he says before taking another pull on his cigarette and turning his head back towards the trees surrounding my back garden

"thinkings overrated" I reply, stepping outside onto the chilly stone floor and treading over to the bench he sat on, popping myself next to him and rubbing my arms to generate some warmth.

he dashed his cigarette onto the floor while blowing out a final puff of white smoke, very visible in the blackness.

The intriguing boy undoes the little zip at the top of his black jumper and lifts it over his floppy hair, handing it to me afterwards.

"thankyou" I whisper before throwing his jumper over my cold body, instantly feeling snug as I relax into the comforting smell that lingered on the fabric.

"what you thinking about anyway?" I ask the stressed looking boy as he pulls out his pouch of tobacco, and began to roll another cig.
He popped a filter between his lips, pinching a small bit of the substance and filling up the middle of the paper
"what's there not to think about" he says, looking at me as he licks the paper and sparks his lighter

"you tell me" I respond, eager to take a look inside of that interesting head of his.
"and why would I tell you, huh?" the boy questions as he blankly stares at me, waiting for a response

"because you can trust me" i tell him, whisking away the strand of dark blonde hair that dangles in front of his pretty face.

"i don't trust pogues" he chuckles through a big puff of smoke, sitting further back in his seat as the boy smirks at me, trying to get on my nerves.

"you don't trust a pogue but you're happy to fuck one? make your mind up" I scoff, tired of being nice to him, he who did not deserve me. And clearly only used me for one reason. I was fed up of letting him mug me off.