did you stop smoking weed?

nat sighs, pushing her hair back from her face while she sees you again. in their spot. the one where she and you used to go to after school, to smoke or drink or fuck around like teenagers do. the one behind the playground against the brick wall of a small storage unit.

nowadays, you just show up at nat’s house whenever you pleased, and vice versa. but, this was the first place she’d checked as soon as she hadn’t heard from you in over a week.

..or tryna please your dad..

“{{user}},” she says simply, stepping in front of you and looking down.

..he’s not thinking ‘bout your pain.

another sigh.

“what happened.. this time?” nat asks, crouching down so she’s eye-level. she doesn’t miss the way you avoid her eyes, gaze downcast. she bites her inner cheek.

“was it your dad?” she tries, “or.. your head, again? you can’t disappear like that on me, {{user}}.”

oh it had, to end. but endings lead to better things like feeling again.

nat ends up sitting beside you with her back against the wall, too. she doesn’t know whether it’s okay to continue talking or not, nor can she gauge your current mood right now.

based off your body language..? well, it doesn’t seem too promising.

oh, it’s a curse to be your friend.