new york raining ☇ joey bada$$

untitled; 01.

teenage fever x drake

THE PROLOGUE

❝if you had my love and I gave you all my trust would you comfort me?❞

I SWUNG MY LEGS OVER HIS FIRE ESCAPE, completely oblivious to the fact that I could fall over at any moment, judging that he lived on the fourteenth floor. It seemed as though I was never able to think before I performed an action when I was with him, my body always moved faster than the brain inside it. Of course, that's just the affect that Jo-Vaughn had on me, and I was completely fine with it. To have someone understand you better than you understand yourself is such a puzzling situation that I couldn't explain it even if I dug into the deepest chambers of my mind. But I bet he could.

He wrote poetry. Which was part of the reason he seemed to have the key to my soul without even knowing it. The way he articulated words brought me to the extent of which I, many times found myself asking him to repeat to me what he wrote or I ended up having to reread the words myself, to even reach a semi-understanding of his beautiful mind. Only few would ever fully understand his mind, the things he wrote in that journal exceeded all expectations anybody could have of a dread-bearing, afro-jamaican, teenage boy, growing up in the slums of Brooklyn. And I? I wanted to be one of the selected few. If I were to ever give a description that would truly fit his character, I would have to say that he was not of this world. He was a truly beautiful and perplexing creature. A mythical being accepting of the fact that he was undiscovered. But he soon would be.

He laid his head across my lap, absentmindedly staring up at the stars, blunt in his mouth as he occasionally blew out the excess smoke into my face. I didn't mind though, I assumed that his mind was at work. Who was I to disrupt such an important process?

I nervously cleared my throat. "Jo-Vaughn?"

No response.

"Jo-Vaughn?" I repeated, this time earning a response.

"What Rajah?" He said, seemingly aggravated as if I had interrupted something.

"Did I interrupt your thoughts? I'm sorry." I looked down at my hands which were now repeatedly clenching and unclenching the fire escape, in hopes of calming my nervousness.

"No you didn't," he grabbed my right hand, "I didn't mean for it to come out like that, what's on your mind?" He continued.

The sudden physical contact sent shivers through my body. The issue with the situation was that I was only shy and passive when I was with him. It feels like I have to say the right things all the time or else he'll notice and judge me. These feelings have been unrequited for some time now, and this might be the most frightening thing I've ever done.

I took a deep breath. "How do you feel about me?" I asked, nervously awaiting an answer.

"What? Don't you know how I feel about you?" He asked, clearly surprised by my question.