𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐃𝐒 .

3.

᪥

"has anybody ever told you you're a really quiet person?"

the words ushered by the nervous blonde barely phased the brunette sitting on the couch in the main room of the fairly loud house, his red eyes not at all caring to meet her nervous one's as he passed the smoking blunt in his hand that smelled up the whole house like weed- probably because it was full of it. zayn blinked over at the girl before looking over at his best friend who sat next to him with an unimpressed stare- one that screamed to the teenager his barely constructed thoughts did not approve of her at all.

zayn rarely approved of anybody though. it was hard to truly catch his eye, which was why he was never quite interested in anything but his own agenda. it had been that way since he was kicked out of his own house at the ripe age of thirteen and tossed to the streets with no choice but to make them his own, and it was like that nine years later, only nothing about him was childlike anymore. nothing about him was pure or naive, and you could see it in the coldness upon his face that he never cared to hide, masked with a constant silence that never lifted unless he was around those he loved, and that's just the way zay was; everybody knew that.

he didn't say much, because he never had much to say.

"twenty-five for a dub. forty for an eighth. one-eighty for a zip." zayn mumbled, repeating what he had just said a moment ago when the nervous girl had asked him in the first place before looking her up and down with a subtle suspicion that she could not detect- the only thing she could really see was the annoyance so very present in his features. "...look, ion sell molly or whatever y'all white girls do in them bathrooms."

"it's acid." slater corrected, looking over at the seventeen year old who's eyes widened- as best as they could. "they all do acid."
"in the bathroom?" zayn said, obviously shaken up by the news that came as a shock to him and was also completely unrelated to what the girl was saying. "them bitches be doing acid?"
"mhm. mhm. a-"

"i only brought twenty." the girl interrupted, causing both zayn and slater to grimace over at her at her lack of manners. "that's how much i usually pay for a dub."
"...okay?" zayn said slowly. the desperation in the fidgety girl's voice did not make a bit of difference to the teenager who was starting to get slightly upset- obvious by the small wrinkle in his nose- an uncurious habit he repeated each time he got angry which was a rather ugly sight. he did not like to waste his time doing meaningless things when he could've been selling to other people- when he could've been fucking on one of the girls in his phone- when he could've been doing something much better than watch a blonde stutter because she thought she was entitled to whatever it was she wanted. "fuck that gotta do with me? you wastin my fuckin time and ion really feel like explaining shit to you, so-"

"so get the fuck out." slater finished, rather loud and comical in comparison to his quiet friend who's silence only grounded an unspoken threat into the unnerved girl, but that was exactly why they went so well together; they both meant every single word, only the difference was slater would laugh before and after he killed you.

besides, the words that the brunette so carelessly threw at the girl who had to be around the same age as him were ones he meant. it was only around midnight, which meant customers would be coming through that little house on the corner of mckinely until at least two and he would be there to serve all of them, staring at each and every one of them with those green eyes the same color of his favorite thing. money; it was all he really wanted and that was clear by the constant stream of people he always had going through the house he shared with four other boys. it was a rather easy trade; he grew his own shit, sold his own shit, and smoked his own shit, and despite the other boys that may have been doing the same exact thing in that house nobody quite did it back to back like he did. nobody did it like he did, and one knew just by the entitled scowl that seemed to be glued to his face he could tell.