To the moon and back

Whose house? Sean's house

SOTD: CAFFEINE BY THOMSTON (IT SOUNDS LIKE A BLEND OF ED SHEERAN AND SAM HUNT AND I'M OBSESSED)

There was something odd about entering someone's house at three in the morning, whilst sleep deprived and mildly hysterical.

There was, also, something odd about entering that same house with a boy, one whom you used to hate, who rolled out of his bed, no questions asked, in Nike slippers, a pair of sweatpants, and his dads Berkley alumni sweater that was four sizes too large.

"Your parents aren't home?" I murmured tiptoeing across the stark white granite that was Sean's floor.

In my opinion, granite flooring was wasted money and if anyone had it, I knew they were either a) amateur decorators or b) had money to spare. Judging by the gigantic glass chandelier hanging from the foyer ceiling, four different living rooms (that all served different purposes) and five stories of house, Sean's family definitely had money to spare.

"They're in Cuba for a bachelor party" Sean grunted throwing his shoes off and stomping to the kitchen which was a little ways from the foyer. The entire car ride over, Sean had asked if I needed anything and what it would take to make me feel better but, for some reason, the moment we entered his house, a damper was put on his mood.

"Are you okay?" I wondered tiptoeing after him and only stopping to admire the pictures that lined the front hall, "Your sister is gorgeous"

She was tall and prim, with flowing blonde hair that fell down her back, icy blue eyes, and teeth that looked unnaturally white. Even with that, she looked like she was hardly wearing any makeup, which kind of made me hate her, and there was something so effortlessly beautiful and captivating about her.

Sean slowly made his way over to me and stared at the picture for a long second. In it, an older man with frosty white hair and a sinister smirk, who I could only assume was his father, sat in what looked to be a throne with both the hot blonde and Sean smiling behind it. Sean, as usual, looked like the poster boy for some kind of Hollister ad with his slight smirk and raised eyebrow.

"That" he snapped grabbing the picture from the wall, "Is not my sister"

I watched as he slammed it face down onto the table and pivoted on his heel, "Your dad looks really nice"

What else was I supposed to say? I, mean, he had invited me into his home while normal people should have told me to get over myself; the least I could do was compliment his family.

"Yeah, he's the nicest guy I know" Sean hollered from the kitchen, "Nice enough to get married to a nineteen year old"

My jaw dropped at his words, "Yeah, they're in Cuba for his bachelor party"

I tried to fish for words to say but literally nothing came to mind. His father was getting married to a nineteen year old! It was both disgusting and, yet, oddly captivating, "I...I thought you talked about your mom the other day"

Sean poked his head out of the kitchen and gave me a look, "Just because he's getting married doesn't mean I have no mom. She moved to Dallas after the divorce"

"Oh, so he got custody?" I murmured wandering into the kitchen and sitting at the marble breakfast bar. Sean was busy fiddling around the sub zero refrigerator and only popped his head out to toss something onto the counter. So far, gummy worms, nutella, cheese, pickles, ham, artisan bread , and what appeared to be marinated spare ribs were present. I physically blanched at the ingredients and focused on the way Sean's hand tightened around the fridge handle.

"Well, you kind of have to grant full custody when you're dealing with a schizophrenic alcoholic who hates her child because she thinks he wants to kill her but refuses to let his father see him because she thinks that, he too, wants to kill her" Sean said never making eye contact.