wonderwall || punznap

broken

I need a darker place to go and find myself

I don't want to hate or live with my regrets

I have to show I'm strong and I'll survive

broken — bullet for my valentine

To sit on an old, crumbling chair with three legs in an abandoned shed near the school, one had to be able to always keep the right balance. Even when he and his best friend got drunk on stock beer and smoked cheap weed, on which he threw out the last money he had. Nick knew that if he rocked on this chair somehow wrong, he would abruptly lean back. To a rotten wall of damp boards or a door that barely hung on its hinges. Until Nick learned to balance on it, as if his life depended on it, more than once he had hit his head on sharp corners, getting bruises and bumps.

Throughout life, he balanced with the same perseverance, trying to stay on his feet and maintain his image. Because it was worth deviating along with his unfortunate chair, and he would be drowned in pure shit without a chance of surviving. It didn't matter if it was internal or external.

Luke had fucking made him lose his balance and Nick couldn't bring it back. It seemed to the guy that everything that was possible and impossible was going wrong, everything was out of his control and the brunette had no choice but to watch how everything fell out of his hands. It made him want to cry and scream, hit Luke, spit on him, return to that former ghostly calm and familiar, "normal" state. He dreamed about it.

"Of course, I wouldn't be bothered thinking about that bullshit," Vicki reasoned, brazenly sitting on Nick's bomber jacket, spread out on the earthen floor.

"I don't have the money for that bullshit," Nick grinned mirthlessly and drank from the can.

"I just don't understand the logic. Nobody told you anything about money. I mean, I wouldn't mind if I were you, I just don't understand."

Nick's logic was obviously not understood by Vicki either. She has always been easier. She wouldn't mind accepting some handouts like that or breaking into a random party where no one was waiting for her. She could even become insolent to the edge and resent the fact that they did not include her organization of the whole action or did not buy her favorite dark beer. She didn't give a shit that it was for charitable purposes. She always loved freebies and charity, if she was not the one "organizing" it. Although there were many other options for a girl, his father is just the king of other options. The deputy, rich, fulfilling any whims of his beloved and so far only daughter, achieved everything himself and wanted the same for the red-haired one. And she wanted to shit on it. Nick saw no reason to condemn - her life, everyone lives it the way they want.

It was just not his way.

"Listen, maybe he just wants to fuck you?" Vicki asked jokingly.

Nick choked on the sweetish smoke of his hand-rolled cigarette from the surprise of such an assumption. Vikki was smart, she had always been able to build complex logical chains. Not only under a couple of cans of beer, but in general. He didn't need her conclusions. He couldn't stand her complicated and wrapped in sweets embellishments, but he didn't want to stand such a straight-forward truth either. The brunet looked down at his hands clutching the joint. He had never considered such an option until now. Nick's conclusions were usually simple and obvious.

"Are you crazy?" Nick cleared his throat and looked at her as if she was truly insane.

"Yeah, what do you mean? Think for yourself. The dude catches you and drags you into the very ass of the school, although in any way he could ask one of his friends and solve everything quietly. I see him from time to time at parties, he basically doesn't take anything dangerous, but he is eager to take acid with you. The dude literally offers to pick you up on Saturday, not the first fucking time. If he didn't have friends, then it's understandable. But he's kind of fucking popular, Mr. Perfect, isn't he?"