𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬🧃

𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏 (new!!!!!)

I'm back!!!!! Whaaattt

Been feeling very creative lately and I just watched Bones and All twice and literally loved it so much I had to do something about it and Timothee is fine as fuck in it

So this is a Lee from Bones & All piece based around the scene where Lee and Maren (y/n) first meet (and you are not an eater btw😭) It probably helps to have watched the movie to understand some of this

Heavily inspired by Thoroughfare by Ethel Cain and really just Ethel Cain in general

Word count: 5.8k

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Whoosh.

It's a humid, late afternoon. The sound of cars passing, insects buzzing, and my shoes consistently hitting the ground, one after the other, fill the air. The passing scenery is lush, and littered with deteriorating stores belittled to roadside stops that invade the town.

Indiana isn't where I live. And it won't be where I'm staying, either. I'm just the same as all the others, passing through and then I'm on my way. Though, I may be slightly different.

I keep on trudging, trying to find any place I can stop and get a drink, my sweat beaded around my forehead. I clutch onto the strap of my bag around me, my very few belongings steadily hitting against my leg as I walk.

I look down at my beaten to near death shoes. I couldn't begin to count the places they've taken me even if I tried. I focus again on what's in front of me, trying not to accidentally sway into oncoming traffic getting lost in my thoughts.

I feel tired, but I'm used to it. This is what my life is, now. Going from one place to the other, on my own. I somehow scraped up enough money to take the train, but I could only make it so far. And now I'm right back where I started. On my feet, and in a place I don't know.

It doesn't exactly phase me. I've never really had a place in my life that I called home. So, this is just what I do now. Anywhere but the place I was forced to call home.

Another few whooshes of passing cars, mostly trucks. A few looks from their drivers as well. The state of me isn't horrible, but definitely not the most presentable. But hell, why would I care? They might think I'm lost or something, walking around alone with torn up clothes and an old bag, I get that. But what they don't know is that I'm far from lost.

Finally, I see corner store, a few paces up the road. A type of place that I find a lot of solace in. I keep on, approaching the small, old building with its makeshift gravel parking lot infested with weeds and various litter.

I walk up, but stop before the entrance at the edge of the street. A break is needed to be had. I sit down abruptly, my ass on the road and my shoes in the dirt. I sigh a breathe of relief and take in the feeling of not relying on my feet before fishing into my bag. I poke around, and find my cigarettes, and eventually my lighter.

I pull them out and flick the box open. One left. Good thing I'm at the store. I put the box up to my lips and close them around the singular cigarette, pulling the box away and tossing it back in the bag. I lift the lighter and easily catch a light, no breeze in the way. Much to my discontent, though. I need a good breeze right now.

I take a drag as the light stays at the end, then flick the lighter closed and take it out of my mouth, exhaling. I close my eyes and lean back on one hand. A great feeling, this is. These are the moments I live for. The small ones, where I feel like if I just willed it, I might feel a little bit of heaven.

I open my eyes again, and take in my surroundings. I can smell the grass and car exhaust that add to the ambiance of the outdated building. A few figures pass by in the windows of the lit store. I peer far enough back to see that they have freezers at the end of the aisles. Jackpot. The thought of an ice cold Coke could keep me alive right now.