WHEN IT ENDS || Jason McCann Fictional Story||

12.~|Preschooler|~

Songs for this chapter:

Joy
by Johnny Diaz

It's Not Real
by Ali Barter

Rosyln
by Bon Iver, St. Vincent

The Night We Met
by Lord Huron

There's Nothing Holdin' Me Back
by Shawn Mendes

________________________________________________

-§∞•∞•∞•†•∞•∞•∞§-

"So. . .where would you like to go?" He asks, looking at me while scratching the back of his neck.

"I don't really remember the best places so. . .I guess it's upto you."

It has been approximately eighteen minutes and a little over twelve seconds, since last time I stole a glance at the antique bronze table clock beside Samantha's picture on his nightstand. And I'm still stood in front of him —in the same room, as of now— because he must have neglected the thought of having breakfast. It seems pretty possible, because instead of walking downstairs, he's still in that very room, applying cosmetics after cosmetics which even ladies don't apply so much of. None I have seen till date. Then again, I haven't been to a handsome amount of tea parties or those dragging knitting adventures with the senior population. So, I don't think my opinion about old ladies —or even ladies of any age, excluding my mother— would hold a ravishing importance in any conversation. Though I must point out, that it's really uncomfortable to be standing in the same position for so long— which is on a completely different note.

What— you ask? Let me paint you an imagery.

I'm standing by his doorframe, arms crossed in annoyance with my patience running thin, while I wait for his response regarding our venture to grab breakfast. And what is he doing— you wonder? Something that I should've seen coming, given the fact that it has been a little over half a month that I've started dwelling in his not-so-suspicion-less abode.

He's applying ChapStick on his lips.

Isn't he a real manly figure, or what

Huh, I doubt it. I'm starting to get a little annoyed by him —which is putting it mildly. He could've at least asked me to go out of this room, while he's touching up his looks. To talk with him, that is. I mean, it would be kind of embarrassing if he said, 'If your legs are hurting too much, you can get out' rather than, 'Let's take a walk out and discuss where to go?'

"Are you hungry? Like, very hungry right now?" He finally makes a slight movement and applies a cologne on him. And who asks someone 'are you like, very hungry'?

I'm guessing self-obsessed fashionistas who use cosmetics that are not even manufactured to specifically grab the customers of their age-group.

Oh, that smell

It was never the natural virtue of a creature like me to be intimidated by what kind of perfume or body spray, or, apparently cologne, men were wearing. But, his.