12:01 (Sequel to Midnight Man)

chapter six/catch u later

i go back to sleep after tyler kissed me.

he left the room with a small smile and a promise to wake me up later. i didn't give him the chance. i awoke to the sound of zack and tyler arguing about something, and all the memories flew back to me.

i wince at the pain in my arm, kicking the covers off me. i stumble over to the fire escape, carelessly leaving my bedroom window open. i snatch the tyler joseph hoodie from the ground by my feet, gripping it between my teeth. i'm careful as i descend the shaky stairs, my feet hitting the ground with a small thud.

i shrug the sweatshirt on, throwing up the hood over my head. i set off on foot, needing to clear my thoughts. my phone vibrates from my pocket, and i pull out in a hurry.

zack: where r u

   >nowhere special

zack: when will you be home

   >whenever

zack: if you're gonna act like this dont fucking bother

    > catch u later

i slide my phone back in my pocket, continuing my walk. i speed up a bit, deliberately taking more back roads because if zack knows i'm gone, so will tyler. i don't want him to find me.

somehow, my mind has figured out where it's going to go before i have. my feet stop before a grimy rundown factory. i shudder at the memories. i used to spend a lot of time here. it's been a while. i push open the door.

what looks desolate on the outside is lively on the inside. there's glass everywhere, beer bottles left unfinished, and more illegal drugs than you could imagine. there's also plenty of stoners and skateboarders. it's an odd mix.

"joshua!" my old acquaintance, keith, yells from where he's currently leaned up on some girl while smoking a pack of stokes.

"hey man," i grin loosely, waving.

"what brings ya here ya upperclass prick?!"

"just looking for mark man," i call out, continuing my pace forward.

i hope he'll just leave me alone. that i'll find mark quickly, and be out just as fast as i came in. it seems no matter how hard i hope for something, the result never changes.

"wait up dude, i'll help find 'im," to my dismay he follows me.

his hands fly to his waistband, yanking up the lowly sagging sweatpants he wears. i want to scream, but keep it cool.

"whatcha want from mark?" 

"just to talk," i shrug, panning the large room.

it's essentially one large skating rink, the old factory. people board here, or snort lines of coke down the hallways. i shudder at who i used to be when i came here.

"just talk," keith sniggers to himself.

"i'm being for-real, dude," i insist.

"you've said that ish befo' 'cuz," he shrugs me off.

(people i know talk like this gtfo bye)

"i'm different," i wave his insinuation away.

"there he is ova' there," he points suddenly.