LÍO

PUBLIC + PARENTAL RELATIONSHIPS

Last night was terrible.

If he had a time machine, he'd go back and change things. Make things right and be a bit nicer to Marco. Everything went too far. He should find him and go and make it up to him. Take him out for lunch. Apologise...

...But right now, he has other things to worry about, like this throbbing headache...

... And the alarm blaring in his right ear, playing some obnoxious party song that he set as a joke.

It doesn't sound so fun right now.

Rolling over on his pillow, he smells something metallic longer under his nostril. Springing up, he sees a vermillion stain highlighted by the sun contrasting against the yellow pillowcase.

Rubbing his tobacco stained fingers against his face, he sighs in relief as he realises that the blood's dried in.

The vibration of his phone's still annoying him so he swipes the screen across. It's still only half past ten... no wait... eleven.

Pulling the curtains across, he can hear the commotion outside of the apartment block. Peering out the window, he watches as some idiot who's lost their kid wanders around aimlessly hoping to find 'Paco' before it's too late. Before some random car hits him. Or a bike.

Taking off last night's shirt, he opens up the window as wide as he can and lights a cigarette. He's wearing nothing but his boxers, and he doesn't give a crap who's watching. Pressing himself up against the window, he inhales the smoke and feels a sense of completion.

Looking down from the seventh floor, everything seems further away than it really is, especially being tipsy. Maybe it isn't the best idea but he doesn't care. The fresh air makes him feel less nauseous. Poking his head out of the window, he lets out a laugh as he remembers that he has work.

His hazy mind forgets what time it begins at. But he'll figure it out once he pulls his schedule from the raggedy backpack—filing cabinet—which his uncle Amir promised to replace. Twice. After he's finished immersing himself in his morning nicotine hit.

The lull of the rap music playing above sends him into a rhythmic euphoria, serenading his numbed senses into a false sense of security:

Breathe in, breathe out, everything'll be alright. Once the high dies down, I'll be fine.

Nodding head along to the beat, he doesn't notice the door creaking open behind him. In walks his younger sister, Zara. She chuckles in his ear as he turns around, startled and annoyed:

"Did you have to ruin the moment like that?"

She smiles, sitting down on his bed. "Sorry. I came to ask you if you'd come and walk me to class. I want the company."

He turns around to stub out the butt on his hole-covered windowsill. "Where's Chloe and Marta?"

"Chloe had to go the doctors and Marta's not feeling well. My first class starts at half twelve, please?"

"I will. If you help me pick out my outfit and figure out what time I have work at."

"Deal." She adds with a smile. "Being in the Institut's tiring."

"Yeah, I can imagine" he sighs, sitting down beside her. She looks at him funny, "What?"

"What happened to you?"

"I'm trying to figure that out myself. I don't remember much about last night. Except sort of falling out with Marco."

"Again?"

He nods slowly. "We haven't done that for a while. He got too drunk and interrupted my conversation with my new friend."

"You made a friend?"