No Matter What

001. MACKENZIE

NOTES:

so here is it is! mack's and rose are here and I"m absolutely exicted to write their story. please keep in  mind they might be some colorful language, particular in Mack's pov's, lol.

anyways, this story was inspired by a few things, one; a beloved friend of mine who gave me the courage to be myself and i he'll never seen this being written, a few tv series i watched on netflix 'peaky blinders/gangs of london/fool me once/tvd' and few songs from sam fender's album 'seventeen going under' i suggest you watch these or listen to the album, because it has played a major role in helping me get out of my writing block and finally we're here.

welcome to 'no matter what' i've had this story in mind since, like forever, (almost seven years) but never had the courage to write it until now, so please be kind. and yeah, i know its a lame title (i may change it later) but i hope you love this story and the characters as much as i do. much love!!

-mel

*

001.

The sound of rain comforted the pain in his ribs.

It battered down on his open windows, filling his room with a sound of cold Octobers, fallen leaves in colour and his room was fresh smelling. Like earth—grounded and new again. Mackenzie always loved rain but storms were his favourite.

   As a kid, he'd stay up at night with his mother and watch them ripple across the sky in anger and lightning. Now, as he grew older and wiser and taller, he found them to be a force of nature—the storms understood his pain, his innermost feelings he kept locked inside a pressured vault.

He reached for his phone on the side, his battery had died a long time ago and swore under his breath when he couldn't find his charger. It was normally on his nightstand, underneath a pile of dirty laundry  beside his bed—however, it was missing from the plug socket when looked.

He frowned, sighing out.

His attention came back to his window when he felt a cold breeze sweep across his bare chest. He pulled back the duvet further and stretched, rubbing at his tiresome eyes. The rain was drip, drip, dripping down his windows, letting out all of its sorrow and he heaved himself up out of bed and went near his window. He rested his bare elbows on the windowsill, staring out at the never ending end of an October filled day. Leaves blew in all different directions, some coloured, some fill yet to fall, and evergreen.

     The driveway was littered with them, a chore he knew his mother would task him with later in the week if his Dad didn't get the leaf-blower working by mid-day.

"Mackenzie ," A knock on his bedroom sounded a moment later. He turned, knowing whom it was. His little brother, Rory. He came in a moment later, bedhead hair, back-pack in hand, and a piece of toast smothered in jam in between his lips.

"I'm going to be late. Mum said you'd drive me to school today."

Today. What day was it?

Mackenzie  sometimes lost count of the days and weeks and months. He blamed it on the weather, on the gloom outside, on the way his heart lurched with wanting more in his life but never knowing how to get it.

"It's Friday. I have football practice afterwards. Mum said you'd take me."

He smiled at his brother. At least someone in the Miller household had their brain working today.

"Oh, right. Yeah, bud. I'll take you."

And he started to head towards Rory who paused.

"Not without a pair of trousers. You can't drive me to school in your boxer shorts. You will get a cold."