Punk! (Hobie x Reader)

WHERE ARE YOU!? And I'm So Sorry.

I've started that great fiction book. Under my real name, not the one I use to hide from the government now (Mary Jane).

  When I release it, I expect it to be big. Great. Wonderful.

  The dojo has paid very nicely these past few weeks. Summer has started. So has my period, but Hobie doesn't seem to care if you know what I mean.

  So I've bought a lot of things. Including a bed frame. I chuckle to myself.

  "Wat?" He asks, strumming his guitar one more time.

  I put down my guitar.

  "Just thinking about how broke you are," I shrug.

  He shrugs.

  We are the only ones at the base. I've gotten so good at this instrument. I don't want him to ever have to leave, but he's certain that he'll have to.

  He's so good at politics. He thinks about this multiverse thing in that way.

  As if he's watching a government when he's learning more about the multiverse.

  He's smarter than he looks, you know?

  Sometimes I wonder if he's mine.

  "Hobie, when I become rich again, what will we do?"

  He doesn't look at me. "I dunno, prolly give to the poor. Don' mat'er,"

  He's right. It doesn't really matter. It's like I've said before. This isn't a serious relationship. Just two teens into punk rock and sex... but sometimes he looks at me like he's afraid.

I've never asked much about his past, but I can see the pain in his eyes when someone's in danger.

As if he's lost someone like I've lost my mom. But I wouldn't ever want to talk about that, so I don't try and make him.

  He is an awfully amazing person. I know it. Very caring. Very driven. Very cool.

  "Why you lookin' at me like dat, aye? 'Ave I got sumfin on my face?"

  "Not yet," I smile.

  "You tryna get out of practice?" He glares.

  I shake my head. "I'm just thinking about things we could be doing otherwise. How deep y—,"

  "Woah, don' tempt me," he shakes his head. But his eyes are on my lips.

  "You're right. We should practice abstinence," I nod, picking up my guitar again.

  He chuckles.

  "I'm not kidding," I look at him, trying not to smile.

  He starts to laugh harder.

  "Hobie, you won't touch me for a week," I start to smile anyhow.

  "'Obie you won' touch me for a week!" He mocks, trying to copy my accent.

  I start to die laughing because he sounds so off.

  "Stupid," his laugh fades and he shakes his head. "I bet I'll be in it tonight. On you'r request,"

  That was really hot of him to say, so I'm just going to change the subject before I lose that argument.

  "I've got a weird question,"

  "Yeh?"

  "What did you think when you first met me?" I ask.

  "Ah, on da stage. I t'ought you was stupid—,"