summary: Y/N was running out of her weed supply, but she couldn't resist giving it away to the young, blonde woman that came her way in the middle of the night.
contains: -drug use -swearing
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It was a cold night just like the rest. Life is shit, irritating, repetitive. Y/N sat on her usual wall on the corner of a street, was it her street? No, but the sound of rich people sparked something in her. The joint in her hand filled the air with smoke and the foreign smell of weed. She hadn't smoked in a while, her new obsession had been people, not being with them, never that. People disgust her, someone looks at you and their eyes are already looking out for your imperfections, something to judge, they never look past that, at your beauty, your unique features. She romanticised being in a relationships with people, not always romantic or the smutty kind, sometimes she would just like a companion to smoke with, who wouldn't judge anything she said or did.
Y/N scoffed taking another puff, inhaling the toxicated air as it faded away into the distance like the rest. Only a small bag of weed was left in her pocket, she wanted to save it, she didn't want to spend more money on any more, so this was the last batch, she had to use it well. Most houses on the street were in darkness by now, but the odd houses still had one or two windows lit. Resting one arm on her knee and resting her head on her hand keeping the other hand occupied with the joint, she zoned out. The modern, two story house behind the teen was for sale, the front garden became her late-night hangout spot ever since the old couple moved out and found a new estate elsewhere. She wouldn't sit outside someone's home, she's not disrespectful like that, in fact her friends at her highschool called her a 'goody two shoes' just for not leaving the used fag on the floor. Simple things like that would put you down a role in society, at leased when Y/N was in school.
"Hey kid."
Y/N's head turned up slowly. Usually, someone talking to her in the middle of the night would make her paranoid, but the nickname of 'kid' reminded her of an ex, a good ex, the best ex. A blonde woman ran across to Y/N, hair in a messy bun and her body dressed up in silk pyjamas. The way she dressed reminded her of every rich young adult in this town, but that thought was pushed out the way as the unfamiliar sensation she hadn't felt since eleventh grade came back, overflowing her body, exploding her fragile heart and messed up brain.
"Got any bud left?" The blonde woman spoke, running up to the teen, "Your friend Marcus over there told me to come over and I'd really need some right now."
Brown eyes stared down at Y/N, her smile was extremely attractive, white teeth were like a sudden beam of sunlight in the darkness of the night. Her hands hung lazily by her side, not tugging or playing with anything unlike the girls.
"Say something, don't just make me stand here."
Stupidly, Y/N reached for the pocket in her pants taking out the last bag of weed not even thinking twice about arguing back, she was too fascinated.
The older woman grabbed the bag firmly, bringing it to her side, "how old are you?"
"Uh, nineteen."
Her smile widened quickly before her legs took off at a slower pace as she continued to face the girl, "Don't do drugs at your age hun."
The southern accent, the way she talks, the way she confidently walks, the way she looks, her eyes, her hair, her lips, her teeth, her jawline: i'm gonna have to start snorting shit to get rid of this feeling.
