🧪G R E E N L O V E [peter steele] 🧪

"YOU TREAT HER, THEN" 🧪

*Peter's POV

I was staring out the window, faintly gazing at Brooklyn that was passing us by as Josh kept on driving, the town sheepishly illuminated with street lamps and car lights.

-You gonna talk to me, or what?

I strictly kept my eyes on the spot, totally ignoring his question. I only shifted in my seat as the belt was feeling really uncomfortable against my collar.

-You got some booze at home?

Pretty positive that he sent both irritated and confused look my way as I was still gazing out with my head turned to the right, he only hummed 'mhm', in a respond. Both of us stayed silent for a good while.

I was feeling these ugly, cold and sharp nails shot through the skin of my neck and shoulders, sticking deep in then twisting and turning in the spot. It was making me really uncomfortable and nervous, constantly having me awkwardly scratch at it, not helping a slightest bit. I knew why it was so.

"Guilt and regret", says the Human Psychology book. "When people are in the state of regret and remorse, they tend to feel 'crawling ants', under the skin of neck and shoulders. In some cases, even collars. The reason of that is- lingual abilities are strongly connected with plexus forming in the shoulders region, with a lot of similar synapses formed in the way through. Automatically, when they say something that they do not mean, tendency of having shoulder and neck pain is naturally, high."

My ass.
I absolutely have no idea why I memorised that damn bullshit. Why have I even read that crap, in the first place?
Ugh, I've been hanging around Josh's place too much.

-And we're back. Come on, jump out Green Man.

He unbuckled his belt and waited until I did the same, the two us getting out of the car in practically a sync rhythm.
I was so caught up in that psychology bullshit that I haven't even noticed we were back. Why, though? I know it is nonsense.

-Bring us the booze.

I plopped down on his couch and harshly rubbed my fingertips over my temples, keeping my head low and enjoying how my long hair shielded me from that awful, yellow lighting of his living room.

-If I do so, will you finally tell me what you told Corazon?

-Yes, yes! Just bring it, damn.

Still not looking up, I captured the floor screeching and the sound of his steps getting further, informing me that he's actually listened to me.
Someone, at last.

-You're a real aunt from the neighbourhood, sometimes. With those questions and shit.

He handed me a tall glass of red wine, holding the one for himself and slowly backing away to sit on the cushion in front of me. I sent him a displeased look, motioning towards the glass.

-Yeah, whatever.

-Hey, you serious with this?

He nodded his head as he hungrily slurped the blood-red liquid, his lower lip resting against the fine glass for a few second afterwards.

-You're not getting any more before you tell me. So, yes. I'm serious.

I exhaled, letting my voice strings rattle as I was doing so and causing a light groan to be reproduced out. My eyes were strictly glued to Josh's, displeased that he actually was serious about this. Therefore, I could not be in control of the situation.

-I told her to stay away.

Spitting the sip he had in his mouth, back in the glass again and having some of it drip down his chin and neck, he stared at me in total disbelief. He yelled back at me, few drops of liquor flying around him.