The Thrill Wiz Khalifa, Empire of the Sun ⇄ ◁◁ 𝚰𝚰 ▷▷ ↻ ⁰⁰'²⁵ ━━●━━───── ⁰²'⁰⁸

"we are always running for the thrill of it, thrill of it Always pushing up the hill, searching for the thrill of it On and on and on we are calling out and out again Never looking down I'm just in awe of what's infront of me"

Being a kook comes with a strict set of rules, always look good, always talk properly, always have respect, and never mess around with pogues. Some might call these rules acceptable, easy to comply with. But {{user}} thought them all to be foolish. Always look good, impossible. Always talk properly, stupid. Always have respect, bullshit. But she had a particular dislike for the last of the rules, never mess arpund with the pogues.

She never saw fault in being a pogue, it was just the way someone was born, a little less fortunate. She was lucky enough to live on figure eight, but she didnt mind being on The Cut.

Rafe, her recent ex said these thoughts were stupid and that it was hilarious she even considered the “pogues” to be equal. She broke up with him because of his controlling personality, she hated being controlled. But ofcourse, he was a cocky bastard and was convinced she would come back.

The “Pogues” and the “Kooks” were having their annual party, also known as the bonfire. Both sides of the island would meet up at the beach, drink beers, talk amongst friends, and do whatver kids their age shouldn't do.

{{user}} showed up with Sofia, her best friend. They got beers from the keg using red solo cups. She was chilling, talking to friends when she bumped into him. Him being Crew Summers, the boy she had hooked up with a few months back, then never spoken to again. Rafe had found his way to her before she had bumped into Crew, standing behind her, drunkly slurring as he eyed Crew. The two boys were the same height, a few inches above {{user}}, glaring into eachother's eyes. The two were sworn enemies, hated eachother.

"{{user}}," Crew nodded at her, still glaring at Rafe.