trash star - punznap

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it's dark. he's wrapped up in something warm. he tries to move, but his body feels heavy, exhausted.

"wakey wakey!"

someone grabs his shoulder and shakes him. he just groans in response to the rude awakening.

"get up, bozo!"

the voice is familiar. familiarly loud and annoying.

"..what?" he grunts, rolling over.

his eyes burn when he opens them, like they'd been sealed shut with superglue. the whole room is blurry, and so bright that it hurts.

"it's time to get up and leave, dude."

he gets a hoodie thrown in his face. at first he's confused, but then he realizes that it's the hoodie he was wearing last night.

"chill..." he mutters as he pushes himself up into a sitting position, rubbing his dry eyes to see better.

"luke wanted everyone out of here before twelve," the guy - that he now recognizes as dylan - explains.

"and what time is it right now?"

"a few minutes past eleven."

"so i'm in no hurry, and therefore you can get out of my face."

dylan just huffs, handing nick his wrinkled jeans that were laying in a pile on the floor.

"i was just informing you."

"then why didn't the man of the house himself come and inform me?" he scoffs, mocking dylan's tone.

"he left to go run some errands."

nick laughs at the choice of words, pulling the hoodie over his head.

"errands? you mean selling his ritalin to freshmen?"

dylan just shrugs, turning around and checking his phone. he's still wearing that iconic white beanie from yesterday, even though it's warm inside the house and there's no one left to impress.

it makes nick wonder if he ever takes it off, and if he even has hair underneath it, because he can't think of a time when he's seen him without it. not that he sees dylan a lot anyway.

his phone vibrates in his hand, and he's quick to read and type out a response to the incoming message. meanwhile nick searches for his own phone, only to find it in the back pocket of his jeans, completely dead.

he sighs. as if the situation wasn't already shitty enough, it just got worse.

"i have to go, but you get dressed and then head out," dylan says, "i don't wanna get shit for not doing my job properly cause some dumbass is still lounging around when luke comes home."

"yeah, whatever."

nick swings his legs over the side of the bed, following dylan with his eyes as he leaves the room and shuts the door. suddenly everything is silent again.

he sits there for minutes, half-dressed, just staring into the void. the sun warms his back from where it shines in through the window, yet he feels empty. his heart beats and he's breathing, but that's it. he's just a broken shell of a human.

the bed he's sitting on is empty too. there's a spot on the right side where the sheets are wrinkled, and it haunts him. it looks like an imprint, a sign that something - someone - is missing. someone that should've been laying beside him.

the memories are hazy, yet so clear at the same time. heavy pants, clammy skin, suffocating heat. they won't leave him be.

he's stuck thinking about it as he puts on the rest of his clothes. he wishes he could teleport home, escape from this prison cell of a bedroom. hop in the shower and scrub away all the dirt from last night, all the smells that cling to him like cellophane.

but he can't, and he knows that he's got no time to waste if he wants to get home as quickly as possible. after a brief stretch he stands up, shaking the nagging thoughts out of his head. he can't let them bother him anymore.

by the nightstand there's a charger plugged into the wall, like a gift from god being handed right to him. he lets out a sigh of relief at the sight of it. at least something decided to cooperate on this hellish day.

he leaves his phone to charge, praying that he hasn't been harassed by his mother or clay, or anyone else either for that matter. a battery symbol appears on the black screen, and all he can do is wait.

he shifts his gaze to the backyard outside the window; the perfectly trimmed lawn that's full of red cups and trash, and the pool that isn't in a much better state. the wonderful aftermath of a wonderful party.

nick wishes he could have a million dollar home to throw parties in every weekend. then he'd be one of the popular kids too, he'd be respected and seen. but of course he had to be born broke, living in a shitty townhouse on the outskirts of the valley. life is never fair.

he walks around to the other side of the bed, and just as he's about to sit down again he spots something, half-hidden beneath the covers. curious, he grips the object and pulls it out slowly.

it's a bracelet. a black, braided bracelet with the peace symbol attached to it. sadie's bracelet.

he feels the material with his thumb, and for reasons unknown, his heart sinks. he lets out a deep sigh, pocketing the little accessory so he can give it back to sadie some day.

everything surrounding him reminds him of her. the wrinkled sheets, the green grass outside, the way his clothes still smell like her perfume. it reminds him of what he's done, of what happened prior to that.

he tries to push the thoughts away, push her out of his mind. but just as he thinks he's succeeded, his phone starts up. and the only message he's received is from sadie herself.

sorry i had to dip so early. i hope we can hang out more, last night was so much fun xo

it makes him smile for a bit, before the emotionless frown that's been plastered on his face all morning comes back again.

he responds with a heart and no text. he doesn't know what else to say.

as he lays back down on the bed, gaze pinned to the white ceiling, he feels all the bottled up emotions begin to wash over him. they drown him like the ocean, and he can't swim.

they're feelings of dread, of heartache, of many other indescribable things. but the worst one truly has him in a chokehold. he doesn't know if it'll ever leave him alone. and maybe he deserves it.

guilt.

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