If The World Ends Tomorrow | ONGOING

𝓉𝓌𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓎 𝒻𝑜𝓊𝓇

𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚢, 𝚓𝚞𝚗𝚎 𝟸𝟾𝚝𝚑

Eden's car screams expensive, not just because of its taupe leather seats with fancy stitching, it's the interior work, the gold details around the air vents, and the shiny wood decorating the front block. 

I don't even like cars, but this one, this one's a beauty.

"That guy over there." I point to a man walking with his dog to the post office. 

Almost every day we played the 'Who are they?' game. It's nice to play it with someone, it makes me feel not so alone. 

"The one with the dog?"

I nod, licking a chunk off my ice cream, it might be a little early for ice cream, but Eden got it for me anyway. Best friend material, I'm telling you, can't tell him that though, every time I do, he rolls his eyes.

Not that I care, because in all honesty annoying this kid has come to be one of my favorite pastimes.

He might deny it but he loves me, or he'll grow to at least. We've only knocked out 2 weeks of the 13 in summer. 

I would say the percentage, but I'm shit at math.

"Darren, he looks like his dad, and he wanted to be an astronaut growing up." Eden finally answers.

" Astronaut huh?" I muse. "I could see that, but his name is Eric, I don't which of his parents he looks like but his daughter Erika looks like him, and he wanted to be an engineer for NASA."

"I'd say that counts."

I scoff. "Not a chance."

⋆・○・✮・○・⋆

"You can't stay here forever, Gizz," Jack says, looking at me, we're outside a party sitting on the porch. The sun has long since set, and moths rampage around the light overhead us.

I expected these types of conversations from my teachers, counselors, brother, Mikey, and Mrs. Huxley, but not Jack, never Jack.

I don't know what caused the shift, but it happened a couple of months ago, and since then he has brought up that people like me deserve to be something more. 

I hate these conversations, it's bullshit, I'm not meant for more, if these people saw me they'd know that, but no one sees me.

Not since him.

"I like Peysle," I say.

He shakes his head. "You don't understand. You could go Gizz, pack up your bags, and go north, you'd make it,  you'd have a chance. This place, this is the type of place you'll die miserable in if you don't get out the first chance you get."

Too late.

There's already a stone in Peysle with my name marked on it.

But I can't tell him that. "Yeah," I say instead.

⋆・○・✮・○・⋆

"We should run away," I told him. 

I looked down at him, his eyes open, his eyes were brown like almonds in the day, but pitch black in the night, until the moon shined right on them, then you could see the specks of green.

"Run away?" His head rises from my lap, as he sits up his arms wrapping around his knees. "Run away, where?"

I shrug. "Anywhere." 

My gaze was trained on him memorizing the slope of his nose, the mole just to the side of his nose, when he was around he was all I saw. 

"You could," he said.

"We could," I corrected.

The silence sat then he sighed. "People like me don't make it out of places like Peysle," he said like it was the only truth.

I guess it was true because he never did make it out.