𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐒 ↬ нѕ

39. ✧ the boy next door.*

▹ 𝐌𝐢𝐱𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐞 𝐱𝐱𝐱𝐢𝐱.

𝐓𝐨𝐨 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐨 𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐈𝐧 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 | Mötley Crue
𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐏𝐢𝐞 | Warrant
𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐆𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐀 𝐁𝐚𝐝 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞 | Bon Jovi
𝐁𝐚𝐝 𝐑𝐞𝐩𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | Joan Jett & The Blackhearts

✧— Third Person Point Of View —✧

"Dirty, rotten, filthy, stinky."

Those four words are shouted loudly through the speakers of the young man's thin grey miniature headphones. With bright red padding resting against his pierced ears, Jesse smoothly slides his hand into his back pocket. "She's my cherry pie. Cool drink of water, such a sweet surprise!" Is the last thing he hears before he clicks the pause button on his Sony Walkman with his index finger. Glancing up at the flickering gas station sign directly in front of him, he pulls his headphones off of his head, and lets them dangle around his neck—You got this, he thinks to himself.

After letting out a deep breath, he pushes his way through the glass door, and the loud bell rings above his long messy hair as he makes eye contact with the older man behind the counter. "Good evenin'." He coos gently with a tilt of his head and his hand placed over his stomach as he subtly bows, saying hello to the cashier he's planning on stealing from. "Beautiful outside, isn't it? The kids are lovin' it!" He adds on charmingly with a smirk, although the smooth words that slip off his tongue barely match the face of the ragged-dressed boy from the south side of town.

Without saying a word in response, the old man behind the counter raises his brow, looking unimpressed by the skunk-like smell that wafts inside the building behind the young gentleman who's wearing a fake chain that hangs from the belt loop of his torn-up jeans—Jesse, however, ignores the judgmental stares and heads toward the back of the store, staring at the variety of beer inside of the refrigerator at the end of the aisle. "Daddy's home." He breathes out a sigh under his breath, placing his arms firmly over his chest with a wide grin before his hand comes up and he pinches his bottom lip between his index finger and thumb. "Alright, who's coming home with me?"

Reaching forward, his fingertips lightly brush along the cold refrigerator door, narrowing his eyes at the singular cans held inside while goosebumps travel up his poorly drawn tattooed arms. As he searches frantically over the colored cans, another person enters the store, ringing the bell loudly over her head. Jesse gets easily distracted and glances over his shoulder, staring at the older woman who starts speaking to the man behind the counter. Although he can't make out what it is they're talking about, he finds himself focusing intently on the sounds of their mumbled whispers.

Within seconds, another person enters the store, and the sound of the bell triggers Jesse to jump. He narrows his eyes and looks over his shoulder again, staring at the next person, finding himself looking at a guy who's a bit older than him, covered in tattoos, yet the one on his neck seems to stick out the most. A snake? He thinks to himself, what a freak. But unlike the woman who appears friendly and kind with a nice-looking smile, this person heads toward the aisle where Jesse is, looking exhausted, maybe even pissed off.

Turning back around to focus on what's in front of him, Jesse mumbles the brand names quietly to himself as if he can't hear his own thoughts inside his brain. And just when he was getting somewhere, finally focusing on which drink he wanted to choose, his thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a deep raspy voice coming up from behind him—"You picky or trying to steal something?"