Plant New Seeds | H.S.| AU

Chapter Twenty-Two - The Hallway

N I A

"Brandon?"

His name crawled out of my lips long before I felt the ick of it.

The tattered image of someone I thought I used to know had his body propped against my front door, his eyes like the last visible crescent of a waning, dark moon.

There was once a time, almost a year ago, that the Old Nia would have found the creepy gesture of his desperation romantic. Old Nia would have fled into his artic arms and subjected herself to the frigid nature of inequity.

But recently, New Nia was working her way up to the rickety surface cluttered with the piercing vines of her former self. Little by little, the thorns met their match in a blazing warmth that burned right through the hard shell with ease.

But there he stood. The blackened brightness shone down on an unsuspecting landfall, stationed as it prepared to do what it did best: encourage the inner darkness that reigned in us all.

"Twenty times." His face stayed perfectly still as he spoke, his lunar surface deepening its craters formed from harmful intent, destructive wishes. "I called you twenty fucking times. Texted you thirty."

His voice, the fuckin' voice I tired my hardest to forget with each passing day, nearly sent a rush of bile up my throat containing the dumplings I shared with Homie for lunch earlier.

There was genuinely nothing I had to say, not a single syllable or a witty comeback. My throat stung from the acid-inducing vomit forming—couldn't talk even if I did have anything I cared enough about to share.

Each click of the ignore button solicited the power I once gave away for the price of lopsided dick—back to me in full.

His words weren't nearly as effective as they were months ago, coated in the slick of greasy gas awaiting the flick of a lit match. Smooth, yet dirty and a tendency to stain with an irreparable black.

I stared at him with careful eyes, the opening of his mouth signaling yet another wave of bullshit to prepare for as he continued.

"So what," Brandon chuckled menacingly, "You ain't got shit to say?"

I blinked. Boredom sure was a bitch, especially when you know you're supposed to be getting dicked down at the very second you're not.

A tinted red glow grew greater from the moon's surface in its harmful brightness the longer the silence lasted, the only sounds able to make out being the pitter-patters of cockroaches amongst the floor.

Brandon inched closer towards me, only forcing me to take one step back in response. An actual, pathetic, and just downright creepy as fuck look of hurt seeped into his eyes as he watched me move away.

"What did I do?" His voice dropped a few notches at my intentional insolence. "What the fuck is good wit' you lately, yo? Huh?"

I blinked. I wonder what Harry has in mind for dinner, I could really go for another one of those Ron Swanson Bacon Cheeseburgers. Or maybe I could make some Bakes for us aga—

"Nia!" The depth of his voice, the harsh increase of it, boomed through the desolate hallway and sharpened my awareness. Bran-done was throwing a little temper tantrum; how fuckin' cute.

I wasn't on my knees for him the instant he snapped his ashy fingers, or dropping my panties at the sound of a text alert chirp—and it bugged him. Times have changed.

Have they really? You know you miss it, just a little.

I blinked. Alex should really know about these damn cockroaches infiltrating the fuckin' hallway before they wind up in my hut. There wasn't enough Raid in the world to—