Kiss, Lil Peep
18: Wilhelm
Tonight, we drank because we were young and stupid.
We drank because we were the generation of newborn ideas and minds that went to waste; those who were meant to revolutionize the world and those who'd end up just like their parents.
Generation, or degeneration.
We drank because, for a moment, none of us really cared.
So ecstatic it is, to be young and drunk.
When you know those first few drinks are hitting, you know. You know when your heart valves are hissing hot, intoxicated breaths, and its beat decelerates to a slow, unsteady thump in your ears, and suddenly, your entire body is vacillating between life and death. You know when every beat digs into your bones, and your hands are flying saucers, hauling you across the universe. And you know when you're hooked on the aluminum kiss of a can on your lips, because it's the thirst that gets you, really.
When minty lips press to your nape, kissing the pearls of sweat off your neck, you know. I know I did.
In the middle of the dance floor, I fell in love again, right fucking then. With his chest pushing up against my back, his breath against my jaw, teeth nibbling on my skin, and his palms gripping my hips. People all around us, but they weren't looking at us—or maybe they were. I just couldn't care.
And no one was above caving in when those hands dragged you into a bathroom stall, least of all me.
Simon shoved me against the stall's wall, knuckles curled around the hem of my jacket, and kissed down my neck. Roughly, hungrily.
Biting and sucking on my skin, and my head was sent reeling. It was cataclysmic, so catastrophic, but what can you do against the will of nature? Oh, I swear it, he was an avalanche, sloughing off the face of the alp, and my easing arms were hurling him to my core.
A$AP Rocky boomed past the bathroom walls, vibrating against my back, and when the beat dropped, thrilled shouts and voices screaming along to the lyrics came to our ears muffled and distant.
I felt his his fingers loop through my belt hoops and tug my hips closer, pushing against me, and I felt the rough hum in his throat, the stifled gasp of pleasure. My head thumped against the stall, lips parted and heaving wheezy breaths; every atom in me buzzed.
He didn't smell breezy or aromatic anymore. He smelled like liquor and sweat, like the devil's breath.
His lips traveled up my neck and my Adam's apple, my chin and my jawline, before crashing into mine again, sloppy and wet.
That's when I tasted it. Booze.
Beer, I presumed, the horrid taste clinging to his tongue and teeth, washing into my mouth.
"Simon," I breathed against his mouth, lips throbbing, and he responded with a hasty, messy kiss.
"Wille," he gasped, mouth moist and swollen, "I want you."
Something cleared in my head, a mist, when he dove back in to kiss me, inhaling through his nose.
"Simon," I murmured breathily between kisses again. "Simon, have you been... drinking?"
"Shut up and kiss me."
Normally, that's exactly what I would've done. God knows how hard it was not to. Placing my palms on his shoulders, I pushed a distance between us again.
He wobbled and blinked at me, frowning, and I held him steady. It was very clear to me then.
"You're drunk," I heaved, perplex.
"It doesn't matter," he whined, sucking on his teeth; "why are you being a cockblock, all of' sudden?"
I shook my head. "Why are you drunk? How many did you have?"
"You're pretty drunk, too."
"It's not the same."
Simon scoffed. "Fine," he grumbled irritatedly, "if that's how you wanna be. You're not cockblocking me, I am cockblocking you."
With that, he turned away from me and started fumbling with the lock on the stall. I slammed my hand on the door to corner him.
"Simon," I warned, "don't fucking walk away. I'm talking to you."
He looked up, eyes slitted. "I'm going. You can kiss the toilet seat."
"Simon, stop," I hissed in his face, "you're not fucking okay."
He glared at me. And then it all happened in the blink of an eye. His palm pushed roughly against my chest, shoving me back, and he slid the lock on the door and stormed out of the stall.
I ran out of the stall in an attempt to follow him, but he'd already disappeared past the exit door.
oh fuck
OKAY BYE
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𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐧, young royals
FanfictionA continuation of the series after season 2. "But I was the fool, the hopeless, the insouciant, the reckless, and he was my hanged man, my undoing, my sacrifice, my learned lesson."
