early2000s | fuckshit x oc | mid90s

February 3, 2000 V

Fuckshit's POV

"What y'all tryna do right now?" Ruben asks.

"Yo, 'cause at this point, I kinda just wanna go home. I miss my bed cuz," I respond.

Ray shakes his head. "Dang, so you really boutta leave us like that nigga?"

"You try sleeping on a stiff ass twin bed for 2 months. When I say I miss my bed, I miss my bed."

"He kinda has a point guys," Fourth Grade adds.

Stevie daps me up. "Don't disappear on us again dude."

I laugh. "Can't promise you that."

"I'll give you a ride," Ray says.

"Word."

It was probably around 2 o'clock at this point. Ray and I said our goodbyes to everyone and made our way to his car. The temperature was perfect, maybe around 65 degrees. I looked up at the sky, and the sun smiled back at me, hugging me with its warmth. A split second later, the wind released a breath of cool air into the atmosphere. Something about it felt comforting, refreshing even.

"Ready to see my new whip?"

"Oh shit, let's see."

Ray turned the corner and we finally made it halfway down the block to the only available parking space which was harboring one car. 

"Fuck, shit, this a 300—"

"Nissan 300ZX nigga!"

Ray has accomplished a lot in the past 2 years. Shit, honestly, it kind of kills to see that could've been me too. It doesn't really matter though, you can't change the past. Right?

"I'm fucking proud of you nigga."

Ray gets in the car, closing the door softly. "Me too."

"Put on that Biggie though," I say reaching for the tape player.

The car ride back to my house was fun. There was never any silence when I was with Ray, there's always something to talk about.

"Aight bro," Ray says, pulling into the driveway.

"We boutta kick it tomorrow, believe it," I say, getting out of the car and doing our  'lil handshake.

"You fucking know it."

Ray sped off, leaving me in front of my doorstep. It really has been a minute since I've been home. I don't know why, but I felt kind of anxious being here again, almost like I was some new kid joining school in the middle of the year. The wind started to blow, pushing me to go inside and face whatever I was scared of.

I started to turn the doorknob, inhaling a heap of air through my nose and relieving myself with an enormous sigh and I finally made my way inside. The familiar smell of linen air freshener hit my nose. The commotion of the TV in the living room told me that my dad was watching his shows. I tried to make it to the stairs without having anyone notice me, but of course, the wood floors decided to expose my secret.

"Olan, you're home earlier than I expected!" My mom calls out from the kitchen. "You still not up for lunch?"

"I'll pass," I say, rushing up the stairs.

I burst into my room, and I stopped dead in my tracks. When I left, my room was mine, it embodied me, illuminated in posters and Polaroids, trucker hats on the wall, random tapes. Everything was completely different. It looked like someone else stayed in my room while I was gone. Shit, knowing my parents, I wouldn't be surprised if they fucking rented a son for 2 months, I'm sure they would've liked to do that for the past 20 years.