**
"𝐒𝐨, 𝐈 𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐠 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐰."
in which the chief of police's son just wants drugs and his drug dealer just wants to be left alone.
"Nah prep, leave. You and Rue shouldn't be here."
**
[fezco x male...
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____ Mount Everest ain't got shit on me
*
_______
____Two things were certain after the party. Jules hated Nate Jacobs and Fezco almost ended Cody Richardson's fucking life.
Now Fezco would never shoot anybody, unless someone messed with his family but that was the problem. Assholes like Cody Richardson were asking for it. And looking back on it, after this was all over, Fezco probably should've pressed the trigger. But he didn't.
On some shit I probably shouldn't have taken before school, head rattling against the window of a dirty ass school bus, I wondered why. Like why Jules didn't stab Nate when she clearly had the chance and Why. The. Fuck. Fezco didn't shoot Cody into fucking oblivion.
Now these thoughts were too dark and dramatic at like, 7 in the morning, but like I said before, I was on some shit.
Cody was also on some shit. The molly fucked him up big time and he was dangerous, the low drop of his mood and the anger he felt towards Fezco swirling and shifting to form a lava induced tornado, if those actually exist, which I'm not sure they do.
Unlike me, Cody didn't wonder why.
He contemplated how.
How was he going to get back at Fezco for pulling a gun on him in front of his friends and Cassie?
He thought about it. Slept. Thought some more....slept...watched some porn....slept again...woke up...took a shower....and then he knew.
He couldn't take this one to his dad for multiple reasons.
But that was okay because he had it handled.
He had it handled...like fucking always.
__
Mist pooled under the rays of a yellow street lamp as Cody waited in the darkness, car turned off, the light basking the lines of his face in an eerie glow. Fingers tapping restlessly on his steering wheel, he waited, keeping his eyes on the convenience store across the street.
The events of the night before replayed over and over in his head like a record, though groggy and misplaced by the molly, it tasted terrible, like a bad drink that you couldn't get over; a bad trip.
Fezco didn't shoot him. And while he should've been, you know, grateful, he was embarrassed. Embarrassed that it came down to that. His life in the hands of a piece of shit drug dealer, while Cassie fussed over Mckay, watching along with his peers as Fezco had his moment of glory.
