krii7y has taken over my life

musically linked📚

"Rude of you to hang up on me before saying goodbye." He says quietly into Smitty's ear. Smitty laughs.

"I prefer talking to the real thing."

The two get into the car and wait for it to warm up before heading out. John pulls out the aux cord that's plugged into the car and plugs the other end into his phone. He starts to play a chill sort of song, one that Smitty recognizes but can't remember when he heard it.

"What song is this?" He asks after it gets to the chorus.

"Pork Soda." John casually replies and Smitty decides not to question the name as he hears the repetition of "pineapples are in my head" in the lyrics and instead just listens as the song flows through his ears and stimulates his brain.

Songs started and stopped, some familiar, some not, some of them Smitty swears he's heard before but he can't seem to remember when. John says he's just tired and delusional. That must be what it is.

Soon Smitty pulls up to where his mind has been telling him to go, a small park outside of town that's too run-down and the grass is too overgrown to play on it. Everything still works, there's just the fear of getting a splinter or two and the fact that it's a 20-minute drive from the town out so no one uses it anymore.

The two get out of the car and maneuver over the tall grass to the swings which they promptly take a seat on.

"So you gonna tell me why we're here?" The taller man asks, looking over at his companion curiously. The other, though, is staring into the sky, nothing on his mind, yet everything in his body racing.

"Not right now." He says simply. John just nods and takes out his phone, pressing shuffle on the playlist he was on. The sound of soft piano fills the silence and it's a calming noise. The music almost has a sort of echo in Smitty's mind, but he doesn't pay attention to that, he most just cares about his thoughts. Then a voice starts to sing about feeling less than perfect, something Smitty can relate to all too well. Tears start to well up in his eyes as the song starts to strike deeper chords in him and soon the tears are falling down his cheeks.

After a beat of silence, a broken sound makes it's way up from the man's throat, alerting John of his friend's distress. He quickly stands up and kneels in front of him, pulling the shorter man into his arms in a comforting hug. This just makes Smitty break down even more. He wraps his arms around John and buries his face into the other man's neck, his tears staining the older's pajama shirt.

They sit there for a good three minutes before Smitty decides to speak up, face still in his friend's neck.

"'M sorry, I didn't mean to cry like that." His voice is still shaky and raspy and slightly muffled.

"Hey, don't be sorry, it happens to the best of us. If you need to talk about something, then I'm here." John said, pushing the smaller man away to look him in his eyes, smiling reassuringly. Smitty smiled weakly back at him and they went back to the swings where they sat until Smitty, once again, spoke up.

"I don't think it actually happened." His voice is quiet and soft. "I don't believe she'd do that."

"She wasn't right for you, you would have known if she was." John's tone was reassuring with a hint of disdain hidden somewhere in it.

"Yeah, but I feel like I could have made it work with us, that if only I tried harder and did more then..." He trails off.

"This isn't just about her, is it?" John looks over to Smitty, worry written clear on his face.

"No, it's not. I-" He stutters, "I can't do anything right in my life."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that everything I do is just taking steps away from where I want to be, where I'm supposed to be. I never went to college, I can't seem to find my soulmate, I have a job that I love but that pays terrible if I do something out of line with the algorithm, I just-I'm a bit of a fuck-up."