Work Text:
“it’s like, I love her as my mom, but not like, as a mom” Chrissy babbles, pacing. “wait, that make sense?”
She frowns and flops down on the cushion of leaves near Eddie, who lay spread eagle under the blue sky, listening with a far-off expression.
“Yeah”, seems like the only thing to say, they’re too high to be having sensible conversation, yet at the same time, this is the only way either of them can truly open up about secrets, feeling trapped, hating parents, being misunderstood.
He passes her the blunt and says again, “yeah”.
She laughs and smokes.
