Rose #9//Lil Peep

🌹Rose #5: Good

November 9th, 2016— sunrise, continuation from Rose #4

She laid on her back, eyes pierced to the ceiling. The scar on her jawline, at it's most visible, while I lay on my stomach, watching the sun rise up the hotel wall. In those hours, we spoke in puffs of nothing, meaning small talk that doesn't hurt nor help our situation.

"That's stupid, why would you do that?" she asked, after I recalled the time I bought an expensive bag for a groupie.

"I thought she was cute."

I glanced as her eyes rolled. "Have you tried staying sober?" She continued in annoyance and nonetheless, I answered because stuff like that mattered to her. "About two weeks in March."

(But actually, three days was the most I could do.)

"It's a start," she replied, making me feel even worst about lying and to cover it up, I placed an arm around her waist, and kissed her shoulder, saying words that would... most possibly hurt her.

"We should run away."

In a millisecond, memories formed and dissolved into chronological order. From the moon, to the swings— to a gray sky, the smell of chlorinated water— to how I felt after she moved, to the time she moved back and I saw her again at the movie theater, all leading up to the day I hid in a storage unit where she found me. It was a Friday morning— my dad left my mom— Chris and I were fourteen.

Everyone thought I went missing, and most possibly thought the worse—

Her voice came from outside the storage unit. If I hadn't heard her, we wouldn't have made such an impulsive decision. To elaborate, or foreshadow, it's the kind that simultaneously, tears and brings two people closer together. In many ways, it resembles the night we ran away to the playground when we were little. Only this time, on a larger scale. Let's just say we went missing for two days.

"Gus?"

I remember allowing her in was all I had.

And now that I'm reflecting back, maybe she's all I wanted, and without much effort, she crawled in. Word after word, and response after response, she suggested that I go with her.

"Where?"

By the look of her face, I could see she had a plan. Maybe it wasn't well thought out but she was determined to go.

"Suffolk, it's in Massachusetts, " she replied, no expression. Almost as if she was ashamed yet hurt, and I remember calculating the distance. "That's like hours away."

And I didn't mean to chuckle, but I was also amused— a girl like her, wanting to runaway, to go against what she knows is safe. It was surprising.

"It will only take six hours, I've checked."

As my smile stayed, her expression fell deeper into a place inside her head. The sad kind.

At the time, I didn't know what, it made me question. "Why? What's out there?"

At the time, she didn't tell me and even if she did, my decision to follow her wouldn't have been affected.