WHEN IT ENDS || Jason McCann Fictional Story||

17.~|Fifth and Alton|~

Songs for this chapter:

Rock Bottom
by Hailee Steinfield ft. Joe Jonas

Bang Bang
by Ariana Grande ft. Nicki Minaj and Jessie J

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A mall-crawl. How hard can it be? I mean, surely, people won't be breathing down my neck every second I spend with them in the place, because I don't look the part, right? There has to be more to it than merely getting an opportunity to showcase your sophisticated (or skimpy, you never know) taste of styling and grooming yourself, and earn a few whistles or catcalls, if you're unfortunate enough.

Try telling that to my awesome groupies.

Every moment since I draped that nice, classy, most importantly, comfortable fabric over my body, all I've been listening to is how much I'm going to stick out as the puss-filled sore zit in Regan and Danielle's it face. Though Danielle hasn't been fussing much about my outfit, her girly talks about fake-eyelashes -didn't have any idea they have that too, until Regan did a very creepy exhibit-A and Danielle tried to put me up for her exhibit-B, (sure, nothing unsettling about some weird guy's hair glued to your eyelids)- and other yet undiscovered territory in cosmetic education didn't do much help to ease me into it either. However it was, their gossip -Regan's reluctance and Danielle's over-the-top excitement- were the least of my topics to pay attention to. All that I had in mind was where Jason sprinted off to, leaving me helpless under the supervision of these highly skilled manipulators.

And the fact that I'm completely lost in this place without his help.

And also the fact that I miss him already.

And also, the fact that I want to be near him and nowhere else.

As far as my social attributes are concerned, I've spent most, if not all, of my chances to go shopping with my mother, by staying inside the house all alone- either blasting a housepool karaoke, running around in the most savage haphazard ways possible, annoying the neighborhood with my raptor-adjacent melodious voice singing along with Justin's tracks, or doing all of these at the same time. I mean, I am pretty darn good in multitasking, not that I like to brag or anything. Of course, they don't always have the most brilliant consequences, but they at least do the job of creating a distraction from other, let's say . . . illicit, irrational, morbid suicidal thoughts.

Howsoever cringworthy they sound, I felt more in my zone while being alone than having to put up with my mother's unrealistic ridiculous standards while out shopping. I wouldn't get to possess my own choice of clothing or, footwear anyways, it's always her opinions -in most cases, stating casual sneakers and oversized sweats are a rancid sight to the eye- which matter the most; so why bother trying to tag along, right? Instead, I'd done both of us favours -mother, because she could just bag whatever she thought was suitable for me according to her 'status', without trying her best to keep her composure, in case I start arguing when I lose patience; and me, because solitude and serenity are thousand times better than a crazy mixup of ze-mother's company and a full-blown social exposé, a-k-a a public place.