The End Of Us, Sid Vicious X OC

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A/N: Hey guyysss this chapter took a while to get out. please lmk what you think because it's getting so interesting now. Also it's like half past three in the morning rn and i'm so tired so after i publish this. straight to bed, i did write most of this whilst watching the Mighty Boosh. (Brill show btw)

it was a dimly lit morning, grey clouds hung low, casting a gloomy feeling over the whole day. The faint light struggled to penetrate the thick cloud cover, creating a sombre ambience that mirrored the timeless streets below.

Inside the small house the air carried a sense of quiet and peace. Vanity sat cross-legged on the floor, her hand resting on a puffy cushion beside her. Tiffany, perched on a makeshift nail-painting station, delicately applied an emerald green colour to Vanity's nails. The atmosphere held a hushed tranquillity, punctuated by the rhythmic ticking of the old brown wooden clock mounted on the wall. it was Mickey's Uncle's but it wasn't given to Mickey. he nicked it off of him.

Mickey, settled comfortably in an ageing armchair, immersed himself in the day's newspaper. The worn pages crinkled as he turned them, discovering snippets about Sham 69, Vanity, Mickey and Tiffany had all decided to go to one of their gigs where they played 'hey little rich boy' and 'Hersham boys' The headlines danced before his eyes, momentarily diverting his attention from the grey morning outside.

"Oi, you know Sham?" He said tilting the paper towards them "Yeah what about em?" Vanity asked, as Tiffany painted her pointer finger. "they're in the paper. sold out it says. 'will the 69 boys prove they are more than the filth we've seen?'' Mickey read aloud, quoting the writing from the paper. "Bunch of shit baby. i don't know why you bother reading it" Tiffany said.

She painted Vanity's middle finger now. and Mickey continued to read, the constant ticking of the clock marked the passage of time, an audible reminder of the morning's progression. The apartment, adorned with remnants of punk posters and a lived-in charm, echoed Mickey and Tiffany's time spent there.

Through the window, the grey light played on the well-worn furniture, Vanity had been spending a lot of time with them...mainly because she was unnerved. The words of what Nate had said made her nervous. The ticking of the clock cause an uneasy gloom to cast over her head. Every second that went by was a second that Robbin could've been back in England...looking for her.

It didn't make sense to her. Why would he want to come back to get her? He couldn't possibly could he? would he come looking for her if Nate told him? but surely Nate wouldn't blab, he just did that to scare her surely. she was the only one who knew about it. she hadn't told Mickey, or Tiffany.

not wanting to worry them, she decided to keep it to herself. afterall Vanity didn't think anything would come of it, because why would Robbin come looking for her? he had absolutely no reason whatsoever.

Tiffany seemed to notice Vanity's daze "Are you alright Van?" She asked "Yeah i'm fine" Vanity answered "You look pale, doesn't she Mickey?"

Mickey glanced up from the paper. "What?" he asked. "Vanity looks pale," she repeated. Furrowing his brow, Mickey observed, "She does look a bit peaky."

"I'm fine. God," Vanity rolled her eyes as Tiffany meticulously finished up her last nail. Tiffany, her sweet nature showing concern, spoke softly. "Are you sure you're alright, Van? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Vanity ignored Tiffany's question. "I need a fix. You got any, Mickey?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Nah, the guy I usually get it from is on holiday," Mickey explained.

"So what then?" Vanity asked, struggling to understand. He looked up at her. "I don't have any drugs. There are some joints in the drawer if you want one," he pointed to the cabinet. Vanity shook her head. "No, I need the real deal."