Best Friend • Frerard

[Chapter 2];

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Ch. 2

I softly cringed at the pain in my ass, growing stronger as I tried to move. Yet again, I fell asleep on the street. It happened a lot, but I never minded it. In fact I loved drifting away to dream land on the filthy street as long as I'm far from my parents. My head hurt since all of the alcohol and drug effects have passed during my sleep and now my mind is fighting to stay strong and on it's right side if you wish.

My head swung left and right, checking for any bottles or similar treats. I was a little disappointed to find none, but I took everything I had a night before. I have to go home now though. Not for the sake of being at home, but for taking more alcohol and sweets.

I dragged myself up the wall like a caterpillar, laughing at my comparisment. There was no one on the street and the sun still wasn't completely up so I'm guessing it's about five in the morning. There were some cars passing though, so I knew I wasn't completely alone it the world. I started walking down the road, gripping my head in addition of stopping the insane headache. I didn't rush myself at all, my parents usually leave the house in like 7 am so I have quite much time to buy a new lighter and maybe a bottle or two. It was very peaceful and I loved walking like this. No matter how much my psyche tried forcing me to believe I wasn't offended or hurt by the people around me, my intuition still gave me little notes to bring me back to being a lonely hurt thirteen-year-old that cared too much about what other people thought of him. Not that I didn't care now, I'm just now as affected.

Tobacco sign caught my attention as I walked. I shoved my hands in my pocket, finding some green papers thankfully, so I walked towards it.

"Hey there! Could I please get a... a lighter" I smiled as wide as I could since I would like to say it, my brain didn't want to cooperate. I was a little slow, but not in an illness way, but in an addiction way.

A girl with bright brown hair rolled her eyes and turned around to pass me a simple red lighter. She looked a few years older than me "Oh! And, and could you give me a little bottle of the cheapest drink you have. You know, like, alcohol?"

"Yeah sure. Go ruin your life some more" she looked at me tiredly. I chuckled and nodded "Yeah, I sure will" throwing the bills on her counter and waiving her goodbye as I walked off.

I took out my yesterdays unlit cigarettes and lit them myself. Taking a deep breath, enjoying the deadliness passing through my body. When I first saw someone smoking I told myself that I will never do it, only because I first ever saw my parents smoking and I told myself I never ever want to be similar to them, but once I saw one of the dudes that got me in all of these addictions I was in love with smoking. He didn't smoke just like that. When he smoke the world had another aura and everything seemed to fade to the better with the smoke. I don't see people that manage to do that no more. Everyone smokes boringly, they are doing it only because they can't stop. Because they need it and not because they want it.

The sun has already gone up. People were opening their windows, getting ready for their next chores. I saw a man with black hair that seemed even darker than black walking out of an alley, taking a cigarette in his lips. He had a black old fashion lighter that gave a huge flame and he neared it to the thick Marlboro cigarette. His thin lips made a beautiful contrast to the cigarette just as his pale skin tone did to his dark circles around his green eyes. My mouth fell agape as he let the smoke run from his mouth, making it seem like seventh heaven. Damn it, how beautiful was that. I can't believe it.

I stood stuck in the cement, just staring at the inhumanly being smoking some feet away from me. Until his head turned to me.

His right hand that was just gonna lift the cigarette back up to his lips froze and his deep black eyebrows furrowed, cringing at me. My lips just closed back up and rose in a weird smirk. He mouthed 'What the fuck' and shook his head.

I laughed loudly and opened my little votka bottle raising it towards my swollen lips. The man started walking off and I headed my way as well. We were walking the same way, just that he was on the other side of the street.

Minutes passed and my feet started dragging from weakness. I simply laughed and took another chug of my drink. I didn't know what was the time, but who cares anyways. I don't go to school anymore and my parents don't care. I have nothing but my best friend, heroin?.

After the sixteenth drag of my foot the man turned around yet again, I'm guessing, trying to get a better picture of me. His eyebrows lifted quickly and he took of in the my direction. I stopped and rose my eyebrows slowly, questioning the person.

"What's your name, kid?" he asked once he was standing a food from me. His voice was raspy and intimidating. It was fun to listen to it though. He seemed like a very dominant person. All tough and feisty. I'm gonna guess he is a leader of some kind.

"Frankie, or, well Frank actually" he made an acknowledging sound, lifting his head up a little. He was already taller than me and he looked down at me, full of judgement. I hated that, why do you even come talk to me if you are gonna be like that. I rather see people just shaking their heads and judging me from far, this is just like an extreme judgement moment.

"And, may I ask, how old are you?" he pushed himself a bit forward, looking as I he will suck my soul out. He started being more intimidating, his facial expressions showed that he was thinking hard of something, making a plan maybe.

My brain wasn't functioning right so I didn't answer as soon as he asked. He was just standing there, staring at me as my mouth opened slowly, his left eyebrow rose questioningly and bored "Um... Yeah, I'm... I'll be 17 soon"

"So you're 16 now?" He nodded slowly. His lips growing up a little, some weird smirk appearing.

"Well, yeah... Obviously" I chuckled and he glared at me. His fists tightening and my mind went back to all of the beating-ups I got, in the street, in school or at home. All of them gathering and making me squint down under the sight of the tall angry man in front of me.

"And you just go around this neighborhood, drunk and stoned?" his voice started getting raspier, angrier. My eyes wondered everywhere, but on him. I was getting frightened of breathing air. Everything looked as if it became slow motion, making me feel even more uncomfortable.

"Um... I..." I tried to think of a lie, but he already saw enough to not believe me.

"I'll deal with you later. Start worrying" he glared at me one last time and stormed off.