the wild week

04. sid

the outdoors are absolute bullshit.
people swoon over them like they're some kind of heaven, but all the disgusting shit that I've been close to splash under my shoes so far looks like creatures from hell. it's steaming hot, sweat is clinging to my back and everyone else looks like they're having the time of their lives, not giving a shit about me.
the fomo is really kicking in, isn't it?
jone's walking with that weird-ass art kid anya, looking deep invested in some conversation. probably some nerdy crap about different charcoal types, i don't know. 
hell, i ain't so desperate i'm talking about charcoal just to not be left out. 
florence is looking absolutely breath-taking, as always. it's honestly a bit irritating how she's always managing to look like a model when i'm groaning like an overage pig behind her, face all red and that kind of crap. 
at least i can blame it on carrying all of her bags. 
'ay, florence!' i shout.
she's far away from us others, practically dancing over the path. 
'come and get me!' she yells back, throwing her head around to give me a wink.
my stomach flutters. i mean, damn. not that i could ever get her with this shitload of bags on me, but the intention is kind of hot.
jone drops back to me, whispering in my ear, 'having a fling with my girlfriend, eh?'
'dude, she's your ex. wasn't you the one who dumped her anyway?'
'i'm just fucking around, sidsy. i can see what's going on, though.'
'and what, you're marrying anya?' i throw out, not even bothering to whisper.
i can see her twitch, and i'm sure she's heard it, but she doesn't turn round.
'no' says jone with emphasis. 'shit, we were just talking!'
he's mad.
i hate when he's mad, especially when i'm the reason to it. i'm really fucking bad at talking about the deep shit. love, hate, grief, that kind of crap. i am amazing at making connections on the surface, but i can't really dive.
'don't blow it up,' i say, giving him a dunk in the back.
jone doesn't answer. 
why do we fight so much nowadays? where's the bromance, honestly? that's such a laurel thing to say, but i honestly miss it. i miss her. she should've been here. florence and anya and probably jone wouldn't hated her, but i really wouldn't care.
he goes to talk to florence and i hate him, oh god, i hate him for that. they seem to have fun and all, but i know jone just does it to fuck with my brain. 
how the fuck did even jone and florence even end up together? the hottest, most intellectual, gorgeous girl in town, with an art geek with a passion for rotting in his bedroom all day. 
i deserve her better.