My Bestfriends brother

05. Nightime.- It is us

Jimin wasn't outside at all that night, but I didn't mind. I enjoyed my alone time.

I ended up staying up all night, wide awake for some odd reasons, only going in to sleep at the early hours of the morning.

"Why are you still up?" Yoongi asked as I made my way to the kitchen for coffee.

"I could ask you the same thing." I teased.

"My mind was wide awake." I added after.

"Same. But seriously, how was the date?" He asked.

"He was very sweet, but I don't know. We seemed too easily along. Like I just felt like we were to similar."

"Having someone alike, but that you can't completely predict." He said.

"You have someone?" I asked. I wasn't very close with anyone of them, Jimin and I only usually only talking in passerbys.

"Yea, I hope to. She just gets me. But I don't know, she's a few years younger."

"How much?" I asked.

"Three years, your age just about. Seventeen. And I know it's not right. But that's what's so odd. It's weird for a three years age gap until you're like eighteen. And I don't just mean legally. I mean six years is thought about a reach once you're into your middle ages, but three from Seventeen to twenty is so taboo. And I can get why, but why us it such a big deal until a year later?" He asked.

"Society. Thirty years ago fifteen and eighteen was normal. Now it's a crime. Give it another thirty and twenty-one and eighteen will be wrong. But just give it time, let it grow, and then try it out once it's legal."

"You're really nice to talk to. How come you stray from us so much?"

"Ah, dropping into that one, now aren't you." He gave a bashful but gummy smile.

"Being into sports and playing already gives me so much attention. I don't want to drag either of you into more just because I hang around. Not all of you are still even in highschool and yet you're all still so popular. I guess to keep myself selfishly out of all the extra drama."

He nodded.

"I understand. I was never one for the drama. Once you gain an ounce of attention, eveone just wants to drain it for themselves. Eager for the seemingly fame of it all."

"But where does that get them? How does that travel into real life?" I sighed.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

"Honestly? No, yes. I don't know. I just feel stuck. Frozen in place and unable to move. Suffocated by what's afterwards. Standards are everywhere. Everyone expects you to make something out of life, to live it to its fullest. But when I try, I can feel the judgment. They tell me to try this and that, and then get disappointed when I do. I don't know how to explain it."

"Like live life to its fullest, but don't because its all irresponsible. Kind of?" He gave.

"Yea." He got up from his stool and came over to me, tugging on the Tee's sleeve for me to follow.

He grabbed his bag and headed to the front door.

"Here, it's cold out." He pulled his hoodie out of the bag and handed it to me.

I pulled it on and he grabbed his zip up.

"I want to show you how I get out my feelings when I can't express myself." I walked with him to his old beaten up jeep. I pulled myself up into the heightened jeep and sat in the passenger seat.

We pulled into the street and he turned up a song to full blast

Plvtinum- heartless. I recognised.

I Sang along to the song, him joining in. Both of us at the top of our lungs.

I felt heaven in the darkness.

"I saw your vape." He said turning the song down.

"Yea." I prompted.

"You ever done weed?" He asked.

"No," I shook my head. "but I've thought of it." I said.

He reached over and pulled down the compartment with his right hand, his left on the wheel and eyes still on the road.

I watched him by muscle memory pull out a blunt.

"You want to try?" I replied a 'yes' and gently took it from his fingertips.

He showed me how to do it and I took an inhale, the smoke filling my lungs.

"I'm not an addict or anything. I've seen that first hand." I payed attention as he opened up.

"But occasionally, when things get bad, I don't rely on it, but it helps me think."

"I'm not giving you an excuse to an addiction. But an occasional release when you feel like your pounding on the mental boundaries of your mind. When you can't breathe. When you want to scream and shout, when you feel suffocated. And I want you to know, that I am always here. Even though you pull from our group, you can always come to me."

We exchanged numbers that night. And he took me to a place on the edge of the road, near the woods.

The street was a two way in the middle of nowhere. The stree was all broken up, potholes and cracks.

"It's me."

He looked at me.

"The road. Its me. Waiting for something or someone to fill the cracks. Cement me in place."

He leaned his head onto my shoulder.

"It's you. It's me. It's every lost abandoned soul. But it can be fixed."