nick wasn't supposed to be here. he made it clear to the boys that he was working on holiday, he didn't want to always be brockhampton's clothing guy. but feeling the way he did, in the part of town he was in, in the hemisphere they were in, on the planet they were on, he felt crisp. maybe it was the crack he did a few hours beforehand, or the feeling of perfectness in the air.
the walls seemed to cave in and out of each other, like the venue was the lowest compartment of a capsizing pirate ship. people seemed to spin around in a blurry tango, and nick's lips felt cold from the crack. he couldn't focus on anything anymore.
if i can just focus on one thing, it'll be enough, he thot. but what to focus on? in the peripheral of the transparent biconvex structure of his oculus, he saw him.
nick watched ciaran onstage, for what felt like hours.
nick watched ciaran go 'woop' 3 times in one second.
nick watched ciaran, his face bright red, and flustered.
nick liked ciaran, but nick wasn't supposed to be here.
nick was supposed to be at home, working on designs. his body seemed to move into action, without his mind consenting. nick grabbed hold of his one star, holding it tight for a second. this wasn't a calculated risk.
with his long arms, nick yeeted the one star, and watched as it flew across the pit, across the barrier, across the twitter stan who was now crawling over the barrier, and into the spot between ciaran's left eyeball and nose ring, also known as his nose.
nick watched ciaran try to dodge.
nick watched ciaran fall.
nick watched ciaran.
YOU ARE READING
crackheads: a nick x cici story
Romancein a coke induced rage, nick chucks his one star at ciaran. madness ensues
