you stumbled outside my house tonight, drunk and with a bruise on your left cheek. it looked fresh. an empty bottle of vodka was in one hand and a lit cigarette was in the other.
"you're still here!" you slurred, i was confused. where would i have gone?
"i thought you left me t-to." you started sobbing. i hurried down stairs, careful not to wake my foster parents up and let you in through the back door, then somehow managed to get you upstairs into my room while everyone slept.
your body was hanging half-on half-off my bed. you hadn't stopped sobbing yet so i put your head in my lap and started stroking your head and running my fingers through your thick, black curls.
"you're my indie baby."
he says playing with my shirt, and singing softly. there was fight, your cheek wasn't the only thing bruised. your knuckles bruised and bloodied also. a pair of starry blue eyes look up at me, dried tears surrounding the redness of them. i hated seeing you like this.
baby who left you?
YOU ARE READING
cool kids
Short Story"cool kids aren't just cool, they're cold. they're broken" lowercase intended (c)@stardrinks cover by:@recklessrebellion-
