𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐰𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐭 || the curtis sister

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐜

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*𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘷*

i was screaming when i woke up.

it seems to be that every morning i awake the same way i feel asleep the night before.

yelling, crying, lying to myself that it gets easier each day. dawg i sound so dramatic holy fuck. but it's never easy when i close my eyes though. it's never calming being in the dark. my fear swallows me up. it kills me.

when the sun sets behind the vast oak trees in the lot, i never do.

life doesn't need you when you fall asleep. it doesn't need you to revolve and quite frankly it doesn't care what you're doing because the earth still spins.

the last time i woke up my parents were dead.

they were gone, and i never even got to say goodbye.

insomnia is what they gave me, and each day it's like living with a clock in your brain. every time you close your eyes, it rings louder then the voices screaming inside your head. they crave control. the voices crave your soul.

so with that thought, i lay awake with my arms above my duvet, panting hard as my eyes shot open, staring hard at the ceiling. 

little glow in the dark stars plastered above me, providing what little light the world outside lacked to give.

i glanced to the digital clock beside me on my night stand.

6:36. that's what it read.

i blinked a few times, returning my gaze back to the indoor galaxy shining from above my head.

i've always liked the stars, the way that they shine.

shifting my thoughts to my bedroom door and the noise behind it, i flung my feet off my mattress landing on the cold hard wood. i grabbed a hoodie from my dirty hamper, throwing my arms through the holes. i did the same with my head, enveloping my body with its warmth.

i didn't necessarily care about how perfect i looked. i mean, it was a saturday morning for christ's sake, no one usually gives a shit. well, no one that i know anyway.

i walked out of my room as the rest of the already rambling house ran half past me right when i walked out my bedroom door.

slapping steve on the ass as he made his way to the bathroom, he jabbed a left hook at my face, in which i ducked before it could reach my face.

lunging towards him, i stabbed my good arm to his stomach while he flinched, holding me in his embrace.

"you're hot when you're mad." he raised his eyebrows with a grin, his arms still wrapped around my body.

"and you're hot when you're joking." i replied, resting my head on is chest.

our relationship was probably odd to the public eye. we seemed like more than a couple to anyone on the street that we passed. we were best friends along with sodapop. the three of us were inseparable, and that's just the way our world worked.

we act like a couple, we talk like a couple and we love each other like a couple.

i wouldn't say that i'm in love with steve randle, because i don't really know how to do that, to love him i mean. but i like a real lot of that counts for anything. i like him as a friend, for now at least.

as he let go of my touch, i pulled away with a cheeky grin. he made me smile. he made me laugh.

"pony's cooking some stuff downstairs." he said, walking backwards towards the bathroom, still maintaining eye contact with me.