𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐲, 𝐛𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐢

𝟸𝟹. 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚘𝚟𝚎

But it doesn't. Your head is barely above the incalculable opaque water, you're treading endlessly in, and there isn't a single thing you can do about it but wait to be unwantedly consumed by the fathomed foam.

You'll be damned if you act anything like what's occurring inside you, though, the deadly storm of nothing you have ever experienced before. Forever will it be easier to completely deny than to even try and begin to partially accept.

"Yeah?" You finally answer Jean rather plainly, spoken tone holding polar to the unabating thrashing occurring against your sternum, chipping away at it as if it's nothing but old paint on a wall that crumbles with even the smallest of touch. The severity of it all is harsh enough to nearly break straight through that damn white bone of protection.

In a rapid blink, clearing the surface of your eyes and your havoced mind, you look up from your gleaming phone, mid-changing the song from one Cigarettes After Sex song to the next. Your gaze latches onto Jean like honey sticking to bare skin, and you see his light brown eyes scan out the front windshield.

"They're here," he informs, a quick jut to his edged chin.

Shifting your neck straight, your gaze transfers, now sharing the same view as him. Across the way, in the lead, is Reiner's truck pulling into the parking lot at leisure speed. Niccolo's car follows right at the tail end of the empty bed. Brightly, you smile at their arrival.

Your friends. Your family. Newfound and yet still better than what your blood carries.

Connie and Sasha are waving... well, more like flailing their arms about with almost snapping bones outside the rolled-down windows of Niccolo's white Subaru Outback. Everyone else held behind the tinted glass of both vehicles acknowledges you, too, as they pull into parking spaces nearest to Jean's car.

Their actions, in contrast to your other friends, are a landslide more calm and collected. A simple smile or quick wave, reaching nowhere near as theatrical in their greeting as the other two. You smile, nonetheless.

Your left ear echoes at the sound of Jean's voice, that contentment of yours still being on the rise. "Excited?" He asks, turning off the engine of his Mercedes', the reverberations of his car that were rumbling beneath you now unmoving.

Your chin jerks in his direction, your body basically pulled by their reigns at the sound of his silkened voice. His eyes are set on your bare legs as he watches your eagerness announce itself by the alternating bounce of your knees, the bottom of your feet lightly tapping against the black floor of the car.

That's when you connect the dots. He's more so stating the obvious than he is asking a true question because the answer is already known. It has written itself on every visible part of you, unable to keep still as you try your best to sit patiently next to him.

As your skin skyrockets in temperature under his gaze of flaking fire equivalent to the pouring of volcanic urns erupting from their core, you run your hands down the road of your bare legs. Your palms attempt to self-soothe, kneading stillness into your intrinsic muscles.

The backside of your thighs glue back down to the expensive leather of the passenger seat where they were before, abiding by your hands' silent wishes for your limbs to hold still and remain that way. "Yeah. Sash texted me and said they're bringing sparklers for later too for when it gets dark so that will be fun." You offer a delicate nod as your hands find a resting spot on the bends of your knees, certifying they won't move again without your conscious awareness. "Are you?"

Not really. You can already hear his gruff tone echo in your head, your body naturally anticipating what his answer is going to be made up of before the skin of his lips can even split. It's whatever.