𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐞 | machine gun kelly

5

Colson Baker's pov; 

"YO, DID YOU THINK ABOUT TRIPPIE'S idea?" Rook asked, clinking his drumsticks on the table surface nonchalantly. 

I sucked on the thin cigarette stick in my mouth, not getting as enough of it as I would've liked. This is why I prefer thicker joints. They last longer. Inhale and exhale, and it was done with these thin sticks. That was how long they lasted. One single fucking inhale, one fucking exhale. 

"Joint album tours," I murmured, exhaling the last lifeline of the cigarette, taking it out between my lips and stubbing it on the ashtray on the table. The tray was in the shape of a skull, an element meant to represent my album, Hotel Diablo.

"The world goes fucking crazy for those," I finished my train of thought, though it was not all of it. 

"Heck yeah, they do," Travis jumped in, twisting a chair at the table around and taking a seat. He looked stoned, yet sober. His eyes were red, and the tattoo underneath his left eye was more dark than ever against his red skin. 

"What the fuck have you been doing?" I ask, looking at him. He looked like shit, presentable, but still shit. 

He chuckled, "Got a bit carried away with the dealer." 

"Fuck him, answer the question Colson," Rook pressed, as Travis gave him playful punch to his side. 

"I don't know yet," I claimed, running my hand through my hair, my palms were sweaty, I was sure I made my hair fucking gross now. 

"What in hell is there to know?" Travis said, his brows furrowing, "This tour will be the shit man, joint tours always are. This album of yours is a hit, Trippie's doing fucking insane as well. The world will lose it's shit on this one. Go with it, don't think much." 

"Hotel Diablo and A Love Letter To You 4," Rook mused, smirking, "The world will lose it." 

He was right. They both were. I don't know why I was hesitating. I don't know what was fucking stopping me. The fact that I hadn't been able to stop thinking about Trippie's girlfriend since the night we recorded Candy? I hear his name and I instantly think of her. That face, her words, that laugh. She was unlike a drug I've ever seen before, she had me high and I didn't even have to touch her. Should I admit that to these guys? It was stupid, insane. My brain is fucking messed up, half the time I don't fucking know what it wants me to do. I shouldn't let this affect my career, I'll do this tour. Let the world go crazy, because I already am. 

"Let's do this, then," I spoke lighting up another blunt. 

"Yeah," Rook smirked, "Let's shake this world up." 

❦ 

Davina Martinez's pov; 

It has been a month since I first saw him and we talked on that terrace. Somehow I feel like I'm always hoping the next time Trippie tells me he has his rapper friends over at his studio, it's him. 

But it's never him. He released his album, Hotel Diablo, and I found myself listening to every song on spotify when I couldn't sleep. Trippie released his own album too, A Love Letter To You 4, but that's not the album I was talking about when I told him his tracks were very good. I wasn't talking about his album when I told him I listened to it on loop when I couldn't sleep, but Trippie didn't know that.  

Soon he'll leave for his album world tour, plans of which Trippie wasn't being clear with me yet. He kept saying it will be a banger, something about the world knocking itself out, but I didn't actually care enough to be excited.