Chapter Text
Party Poison doesn't know what they’re supposed to be anymore, didn’t stay in high school long enough to plan it all out.
Their parents can't yell at them, though they knew they would’ve given the chance, their faces red, screaming about all the opportunities they were missing, all the opportunities they were giving to them, all the opportunities that they themselves didn’t have. They’d already had that talk; back in 9th grade when Poison started sneaking around with the pastor’s son, skipping out on classes. They knew they couldn’t hide it forever, of course they knew– but they were high on teenage hormones and the rebellion and the thrill of it all .
Poison’s parents didn’t want that life for them. They wanted for them to have a nice wife and settle down with 2 kids in a suburban house with a picket fence. That was bullshit .
Poison was never built for a life like that, they just didn’t love like that, their ideologies didn’t line up with that. They know their parents didn’t care who they loved, but Poison could tell they wished they would change somehow, just to live the way they thought would make someone happy. They didn’t want that shit, they wanted fast paced action . And yeah, that was awfully childish to think, all about misconstrued ideals and poorly hidden insecurity, but Poison kept their damn facade for as long as they could.
Retribution came in the form of long talks with their parents sitting under the dim light of the dining room table. They couldn’t bear to look them in the eyes, couldn’t bear the disappointment seething beneath faux concern, grades have been dropping, know you’re a teenager but this is immature, you’re being a bad influence on Kobra, you should know better, we raised you better–
They wanted to scratch their skin off, fingers picking so hard at their nails they bled, sticky red drops slipping from their fingertips and landing on the yellow carpet. Their mother noticed that too, and that brought on a whole ‘nother rant that ended with Poison running up the stairs, desperately trying to conceal the salt dripping down their cheeks.
Kobra came into their room later, and Poison didn’t allow themself to cry in front of their younger brother, couldn’t allow themself to, he was still young and thought the world of their older sibling, so they just shoved it down the best they could and prayed to the stars above that Kobra wouldn’t comment on how their voice shook and the way their hands trembled. This wasn’t anything to put on their brother.
But there was a deep, broiling, seething pit in their stomach. It– it wasn’t fair – Poison was doing their damned best at that fuckass school. Yeah, they averaged only 70, but that was fine– their parents– they didn’t even care about what they were good at. No, it’s all about the school and the grades and what their old, geriatric teachers have to say, always distracted, never sits still, not living up to their potential . It was all such bullshit .
So they didn’t stop. They didn’t pause their “immaturity” and they weren’t gonna “live up to their potential” because the truth was; they had none. They were just some imbittered, lonely kid in high school and that was doing just fucking fine because that’s all they fucking needed to be.
They continued doing what they were; skipping classes, making out with guys behind the breachers, getting drunk at stupid parties in the next town over, stupid shit that teenagers do because they were one , they’re allowed to be this, they’re supposed to be this, because if they weren’t, then who fucking were they?
It didn’t go entirely unnoticed by their parents. After all, Kobra had to get his smarts somewhere.
Poison’s back from a shitty party they went to, vaguely drunk. They made the mistake of walking past their parents’ bedroom, and heard them praying for them.
That marked the end of their relationship, and now, it will never be repaired.
Kobra’s still in the hospital. He’s alive– didn’t make it out without a scratch, but it’s a lot better than the alternative. They could’ve been like that too, had they gotten in the car on that grave Sunday to go to church. Poison frowns, horrified that they’re thinking of themselves while their 14 year old brother is in a coma, their parents dead.
They’re disgusting.
They need to make it up to their baby brother.
They drop out of school. Working a full time job while being a student isn’t logical, and they’ve already skipped enough classes that they wouldn’t’ve made it to graduation anyhow. Poison picks up a job at the movie theatre, not having to worry about the house themselves as it was already owned by his parents, passed down through generations or whatever, thank God, but the bills are what scares them. They need to provide for Kobra. He’s bright, brighter than they’ll ever be, and he has a good future ahead of him, they can’t let him wind up like them.
Kobra’s out of the hospital a week later, face numb and one leg permanently damaged. He can still move it, but barely, and it crushes Poison’s heart all over again as they walk home together, helping him with the crutches.
They turn 18 sooner rather than later, becoming Kobra’s legal guardian, and the doctor gives them a recommendation for a physical therapist and prescription pills with a fancy name too long for Poison to be able to pronounce, but they’re expensive, and they’re difficult to find, and soon enough Poison finds themself in their parents’ bedroom, taking out the vent on the bottom of the wall and shimmying out the box of money their mother kept. She told them about it one night when they were 13. She was wine-drunk, moping about something or other that Poison was too young to understand; something about their father that they don’t want to remember.
They feel sick, but it’s enough to keep them afloat for the time being.
2 years pass, and they’re 20. It gets stressful, but easier in ways. Kobra’s still doing well at school, even joining the school band as a bassist. They can’t afford bass lessons but Kobra makes due with what he has, loaning a guitar from the school and teaching himself. Poison’s on their 5th job and their options are narrowing by the second, but it’s okay. It’s a living.
They get employed at the 7/11 20 minutes from their house, working shifts alongside a guy named Jet Star who went to their school but lived in the next town over. ‘Had t’get away from the old man, y’know?’ She says, explaining why she moved here instead. Poison hums, gets it fully .
They make slurpees that should be classified as abominations, helping each other steal food they should’ve thrown out, go out and kick rocks into the river and bitch about their lives. It’s chill, it’s a good relationship, a friendly one.
At some point Jet gets invited to a frat party held by some college kids a few miles away. He invites them, of course; when questioned why she just beams and says ‘’cause you’re my friend’ and Poison’s heart soars. They go together, Poison dressed in a casual shirt and jeans, maybe a little eyeliner and red lipstick thrown in the mix. It wasn’t that big a’deal, just a college party. Jet wore his glittery, black eyeshadow and jean jacket. Poison thinks she looks badass.
It’s clammy and sweaty and Poison forgets these are people their age, maybe older. They get a red solo cup filled to the brim with shitty jungle juice and go sit at the corner. Some vaguely catchy pop song’s playing, lights dim. They already feel a comfortable buzz in the back of their head, but they don’t just wanna be tipsy . Absolutely no one goes to a college party just to get tipsy ; so they grab another cup. They lost Jet at some point, but he’s probably out dancing with someone. Poison isn’t particularly worried, knows he can handle himself need be.
People bump into them as they go get another round, and they grumble petulantly, pouring more alcohol into the cup.
The bass is reverberating through their ribs, knocking their heartbeat askew as they swallow roughly, stumbling over to a less crowded part of the house so that they can calm themselves down from any panic that crawls on them from being around so many strangers.
They take another drink, and the lights shift colours and start jumbling and they can’t see the floor through all the empty solo cups and streamers.
Poison gets another round.
They’re absolutely wasted and it’s amazing . Their fingertips are hazy, their brain too disconnected from the rest of their body to really feel anything except for their beating heart and buzzing skin. The world starts spinning around and they want to dance , want to feel someone’s touch on their skin.
There’s a guy standing in the corner, bracing himself on the wall behind him. The dark, greasy hair sparks recognition in Poison. They think they saw him working at the bowling alley they took Kobra to for his 16th birthday. Poison giggles, he was kinda hot.
They’re making out now - in the corner. No one notices them, no one’s even sober enough to care. Poison feels like their skin’s on fire wherever he touches, the feeling of being wanted, wanted, wanted flitting through their sloshed brain and they kiss the guy until both his and their lips are sore and red.
They take a cab back to his house, oh they’re going to his house now? Taking it up to his bedroom where they start kissing again. He’s gentle, oh so painfully gentle and Poison wants to spit at him, wants him to realise how gross they are, wants him to treat them like vermin, but they can’t bring themself to, not when their hands are wrapped around his neck and his around their waist.
They start crying, and he pulls back, surprised. Poison’s desperate, though, needing anything to distract from the gaping hole that’s been in their chest since they were 14. They chase his lips again, a hand coming up to their shoulder, ‘are you okay?’ He mumbles, and Poison wants to respond with ‘yes, yes I am, can we continue now?’ But all that comes out is a wet, broken sob and they fall into his arms.
It’s embarrassing, honestly. They don’t know this person’s name and they’re already crying in his arms.
All they remember are hesitant hands wrapping around them before their brain tips over and they pass out.
— — —
They try to forget about it, put one foot in front of the other, avoiding the town’s bowling alley like the plague, because there’s no way they’re gonna come face to face with a dude they cried drunkenly in front of.
But they have responsibilities and a job to uphold, so there’s really not any time for any of that.
— — —
It rained earlier, puddles having formed along the depressing pavement, the lights of shop signs and street lamps skittering across the wetness of the roads as cars raced past the brightly lit gas station, sending water flying up at first contact.
The sun’s been fully set for hours at that point. Gotta love Winter.
Party Poison’s shivering. They left their jacket at home, slung over the back of one of the wooden dining room chairs. The lights buzz above them, and they roll their eyes upwards to stare at the offending fluorescents. Poison swallows thickly, almost biting their tongue off from the sudden chill that wracked through their body.
Poison’s stomach growls and they wonder if they could steal some of the spare donuts without anyone noticing; they don’t pay them enough, and they would just go to waste, so why not, right?
They scratch lazily at their chin, hazel eyes retaining their staring contest with the bulbs. Poison should get a do’ for Kobra. Which ones does he like again?
The clock on the wall hits 8:45 and they start closing up the 7/11.
The streets are still wet from when it rained earlier, and Poison distantly thinks about the half eaten pizza pie in the fridge as their teeth chatter, a hastily put box of donuts in their hand.
— — —
“Hey Kobes, m’home!” They call out, sliding out of their sneakers, bending awkwardly to put them on the shoe rack near the old door. When no call comes from back, they glance up towards the dining room at the end of the hall, unable to see their younger brother.
A spike of panic stabs through them, and they swallow roughly, walking down the corridor. “Kobes?”
They hear music blast through tinny earphones and catch a glimpse of Kobra writing something down in his school notebooks underneath the dim yellowness of the dining room light, and Poison immediately calms down upon seeing their younger brother. Kobra hasn’t noticed them yet, so they knock on the wooden table to get his attention.
It works, and Kobra looks up at them with slight bewilderment, tugging out his earphones and pausing the cassette. “Heya,” Poison starts, “Guess what I brought.” They singsong, putting the box of donuts on the table, and Kobra immediately perks up, looking at Poison and pointing at himself.
Poison spots their jacket on the chair next to them, “Yeah, they’re for you. Smell ‘em first though, just in case.”
Kobra reaches across the wood for the box, jostling the crutches that rest at the edge of the table beside him. Poison heads into the kitchen, opening up the fridge and hunching over to check the contents inside. The lights buzz incessantly, and they grab a few slices of pizza, shutting the fridge door.
Kobra’s eating a donut with strawberry icing, and Poison notes that down. They go over to their younger brother, who's back to scribbling in his notebook.
“So,” Poison takes a bite of pizza, “Whatcha shtudyin’?”
“Maths.” Kobra replies softly.
Poison makes a face, “Oh, yikes.”
“Nah, it’s fine.”
There’s a moment of silence, and Poison leans on the hand they braced on the table, peaking at the neat formulas on the gridded paper. Their brain instantly starts flopping like a fish.
“You’ve got this shit in the bag, Kobes” They find themselves saying, a grim genuineness lacing their tone, “You’ll make it big in life with all your brains.” They say, ruffling up their brother’s hair, much to his disgruntlement.
“Nah, m’gonna start a band n’get all int’ drugs n’shit and you’re gonna have t’find me dead in a ditch.”
Poison snorts, “Maybe if you hit the big leagues you c’n do coke with DiCaprio.”
Kobra hums and goes back to pencilling in math equations. Poison draws back. “G’night, Kobes.”
“‘Night.”
— — —
Party Poison lays on their back, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars pressed sloppily to their ceiling. Their wrist still twinges from the memory of falling off the ladder they placed on their bed. It was idiotic, of course it was, but that’s all they were as a kid, all they really needed to be.
Kobra helped them put up the rest of the stars after they fell, shyly asking afterwards if Poison would help them put stars up on his closet door. They smirk at the memory, their vision swirling in the pale, green light.
They tossed their boots somewhere in their room when they got in, falling onto the twin sized bed with their clothes still on, jeans digging into their skin but they couldn't be bothered to get up.
Life’s not bad, all things considered. They just need to focus on making this job last.
They fall asleep, lulled by the blotchy shapes of the glow-in-the-dark stars pressed behind their eyelids.
Poison wakes up again in the middle of the night, red marks all over their body as they rip their clothes off, falling back asleep briefly.
— — —
Jet gags, “Oh my God , that’s so bleurgh –”
Poison pumps their fist, a twinkle in their eye. “ Two ‘t’one baby! ”
Jet takes the paper towel she placed out of his mouth, “Yeah, only ‘cause you’re an unholy abomination who mixes coke with pineapple .”
Poison is truly flattered that she referred to them as an unholy abomination, and they blow a kiss at her. Maybe they should make her an actually good tasting slurpee to make up for it.
Poison leans against the front of the counter. Both of them are in their fuckass, dark green uniforms, names on their tags. It’s so odd, honestly. Why do customers need to know their names? If they wanna know so bad they can ask like regular human beings.
Jet drums her fingers on the countertop, resting her head on her fist. “Slow day, huh?”
“Yep.” Poison pops the ‘p’.
Jet straightens a bit, “So… Kobra’s b-day in a bit. What’re ya thinkin’ to get ‘im?” He asks.
Poison quirks a brow and smirks slightly. “How d’ you know his birthday?”
Jet gets up then, raising both hands in the air in a display of innocence. “Dunno, dunno. But if you just so happen to see the new issue o’’Pencil Man’ in the stores for, oh, I dunno , 25 percen’ off, I think he would be happy.”
Poison scrunches their face, snorting. “Did he swing around while I wasn’ here again?” Jet looks to the side, “He put you up ta’ this, yeah?”
Jet shrugs, a shit eating grin on her face. Poison shakes their head, looking back up at their friend. “So, how’re the college applications lookin’?” Jet perks up at that, expression becoming more somber.
“Ugh.” He ducks his head, “Closest med school’s, like, 3 hours away , an’ I promised m’aunt that I’d help ‘er with the kids.” Poison grimaces and sucks air through their teeth. Jet nods, expression blank.
“Yikes, man.”
“Yeah, yep.”
“Can I, like, help you? In any way?” Jet shakes her head before they even finish the question.
“Nah, nah, I can figure this out on m’own, Pois, but thanks.” She says, and Poison kicks themselves internally for bringing it up in the first place.
“Well, uh–” Poison scrambles, desperately trying to lighten the mood again, “Y’always got time n’stuff, y’know? An’ hell– you got a high school diploma, so that’s somethin’.”
Jet huffs out a laugh, a light smile on his face, “Thanks, man.”
Poison sighs with relief, “Of course, dude.”
A customer enters and they both scramble to their stations.
— — —
Party Poison would give their entire life and soul to Jet Star and that is a fact that should be engraved in the night sky.
“Oh my fucking God, dude, thank you so much, you are a saint –” They breath out. It’d started raining bullets and Poison forgot their umbrella, but Jet was kind enough to escort them home with hers.
“T’s really no skin off my nose dude, don’t worry ‘bout it.” She says easily.
An unease curls deep in Poison’s chest. Their house is already in sight, and they know for a fact that Jet’s home is further away from the 7/11 in the opposite direction to Poison’s home. Their tongue’s dry as they wet their lips. “I dunno how ta repay you, man, but seriously–”
“ Poison. ” Jet stresses, “It’s really no biggie.” Poison frowns and looks to the side at that, burrowing their hands in their leather jacket, stuffing their nose in their scarf. “‘Sides, s’good exercise, no?” Jet jokes, stretching out his leg and momentarily revealing Poison to the elements. They yelp before Jet corrects the umbrella, smiles and apologises and the walk to Poison’s house doesn’t take much longer. They wave goodbye to each other, Poison thanking him one last time before she departs.
— — —
Poison’s heart is palpitating.
They’re at another fuckass high school party, staying out late even though their parents would ground the hell outta them if they found out. But they can’t bring themselves to care that much as they twirl their fingers as best they can around the hair of the guy they’re kissing.
They don’t really remember his name, have far too much alcohol in their system to bother asking.
All in all, they really didn’t drink that much; but the teenage body supplied to them can’t quite ingest much yet without being totally wasted. It’s grand, quite frankly, they can drink 2 cups of horrific jungle juice and be sloshed out of their mind.
The guy leaves eventually, leaving Poison with an empty space that they want to— no, need to fill. But… wait a second, they had a task, no? Poison wracks their head, sifting a hand through their growing hair. Fuck. They needed to uh— needed to…
Poison’s eyes snap open from where they were scrunched up.
They promised their parents they’d babysit Kobra.
It’s honestly not that big of a deal to leave a 13 year old alone at home. Not a big deal at all, they were left to watch over the house alone when they were 8 , but their parents insisted. Poison thought it was unfair, the clear infantilization of their younger brother drove them up the wall. That’s no way to treat Kobra though, it’s not his fault.
Poison sneers at the thought of their parents, knows exactly what they think of them, knows that they already gave up on them.
They head home, praying to a God that’s already forsaken them that they make it home in one piece for their baby brother.
He’s watching Star Trek when they step inside, lounging out on the beige sofa. Poison slaps themselves in the face lightly before focusing on walking over to the couch as casually as humanly possible for a shitfaced 16-year-old.
Kobra looks startled at the sight of them, and Poison suppresses the urge to squirm, turning their gaze instead to their younger brother’s favourite beanie that he’s been wearing all the time lately.
“Didn’ Mum say ‘t’s impolite to wear hats ‘nside?” They drawl, then shove the beanie over Kobra’s face. He squawks and bats at Poison’s hand while they laugh.
“Asshole.” Kobra grumbles, crossing his arms around his chest, “‘N Mum’s not even here , anyways. S’not like she c’n say anything.”
Poison snorts, wants to leave before they start rambling about something or other so that their mum won’t scold them again for being a bad influence.
“S’Stupid that she thinks you need ‘ta babysit me anyways.” Kobra huffs, leaning back against the couch.
Poison snorts, “Amen t’that.”
“Where were you, anyways?” Kobra asks, glancing nervously at his older sibling.
Poison smirks, “Aww, did someone miss me?”
Kobra shoves them and they laugh “Did not! ” He shouts, “An’ you smell like shit anyways..” Kobra sinks further into the couch.
Poison’s heart pangs lightly at the comment but they brush it off.
They just sit there for a while, and eventually Kobra’s head droops onto Poison’s shoulder, asleep.
— — —
“I went to the bowlin’ alley with Cherri t’day.” Kobra says easily.
It’s a Sunday morning. Normally they would be at church right about now but it hasn’t really been ‘normal’ since mummy and daddy dearest ate shit. They don’t really talk about God anymore, not since Kobra wanted to go to church on that one Sunday 3 years ago and Poison had a panic attack so bad they threw up in the bushes.
Kobra was sitting at the dinner table again, cheek squished on his open palm as he sketches whatever into a school notebook.
At the mention of the bowling alley, Poison chokes on their coffee, bringing a hand up to their lips and another sets the mug down. Kobra glances at them but doesn’t say anything, just turns his head further down towards the paper.
“And uh–” Poison coughs, “Who’s Cherri?” They ask, directly ignoring the bowling alley line.
Kobra shrugs, seemingly very interested in his drawing. “Some guy ‘t school.” He says simply. Poison squints and catches him drumming his fingers on the table in a nervous rhythm.
Poison, eyes still squinted, flit their gaze from Kobra’s hand to his head. “And he took you t’the bowlin’ alley?”
Kobra shrugs.
Poison scrunches their face up before smiling. “D’you have a crush on ‘im?”
Kobra smacks the hand that was smushed into his cheek onto the wood below him, his face completely red as he glares at Poison. Jackpot .
Poison tried to suppress their giggles, “ It’s not like that— “ Kobra sputters.
“Yeah?” Poison snorts
“ Yeah. Some o’the guys were s’pposed t’come too but he said they bailed to get weed at Larkson’s house.”
Poison scrunches up their lips, “So, no date?”
“No date.”
They don’t believe that for a second. “Aight.” They say casually, sipping on their coffee.
Kobra goes back to sketching, sliding it outwards slightly when Poison looks over his shoulder to catch a glimpse. It’s a drawing of a bass with electricity coming off of it. Nice.
“Yo, Pois?”
“Ya?”
“Would’ja mind if I had a birthday party this year?” Poison freezes, “It’s, like– y’know, ‘cause I’m gonna turn 18 n’all, so I thought–”
“Kobra.”
“–An I’ve been savin’ some money from pet-sittin’ Mrs. Glitz’s dogs, so–”
“Kobra-”
“–I could, like, pay for it n’all, so don’ even worry–”
“Hey, hey, Kobes, little man, don’ even worry ‘bout it, kay?” Poison rushes, placing a hand on the back of his neck to cut him off gently. Kobra looks up at them from where he was talking animatedly with his hands, hair almost completely covering his bespectacled eyes.
“Of course you’ll have a party, dude, it’s your big day! The big one-eight.” Poison tries so hard to sound as reassuring and kind as possible, plastering a big smile on their face. Kobra continues looking at them, then goes back to staring at Poison’s socked feet.
“Yeah– yeah I know. S’just that I know that money’s been a little tight lately–” How the fuck does he know that , “An’ I don’ wanna be a– a burden n’stuff so.” Kobra finishes off quietly, twiddling his thumbs in his lap.
Poison knits their brows, “Nah, dude, it’s all good, really.” He was right though. Grocery prices have been climbing and with Kobra’s physical therapy and prescription meds as well as school bills, shit’s been tough. They didn’t want Kobra to know about it though, much less feel like a burden .
Were they really failing that much at being a guardian that their baby brother feels like dead weight?
Poison grits their teeth and swallows thickly as they tighten their grip on Kobra. He looks up at them hopefully, mouth slightly open. “Really?”
“Of course Kobes– I mean, we probably wouldn’t be able to get a bouncy castle an’ hire a clown, but–” They cut themselves off with a giggle. Kobra snorts and punches them lightly in the side. “Where’d you think o’going to anyways?” Poison continues.
Kobra looks up at them again with a light sparkle in his eyes, “Bowlin’ alley.”
— — —
Turns out that bowling alley tickets are somewhat expensive, Kobes brought 4 of his friends, 5 bucks per person, 30 total including Kobra and themselves, and that doesn’t even cover the cost of the bowling alley food.
Poison really shoulda brought food from home or something. Not that they really had any, but y’know.
Cheese and nachos cost 8.50, which is insane, but considering Poison couldn’t get a cake, they decided to pretend that it was compensation. When they looked at the prices of soft drinks they decided to call it quits there and tell the gang that they couldn’t get those. They just nodded politely and didn’t really seem to care.
They decided to get the nachos later when everyone was done with the bowling.
That brought the total up to 38.50. Jesus Christ. The thought of the electricity bill that popped up in their mailbox yesterday screams to the front of their mind as they bite anxiously at their nails, watching their brother and his friends putting on their shoes.
Poison had forgotten what the bowling alley had looked like, but they think they added some more decor to it, and nicer, blue and purple lighting. The carpets were still the same ones as the arcade’s a block away, and for some reason, slightly sticky, but they pretended to ignore that in favour of having fun. The speakers were playing ‘Top 100 greatest hits of the 70’s’ which wasn’t bad at all, quite an improvement from playing random ass cassettes with no relation to one another. One minute it was pop, the next metal, it was a total dumpster fire, but the bowling alley got up on its feet finally. They had sat down at the furthest lane from the door and sat on a garish, red leather booth surrounding a round table. The lighting was dim and hardly perceivable but it worked.
Kobra’ friends had brought him a party hat and a ridiculous badge that read “Birthday Boy!” In frilly baby blue ribbons. They laughed and joked and and lightly squeezed Kobes’ arm in lieu of a hug which they apparently know he doesn’t like.
Poison’s never really met Kobra’s friends, partially ‘cause their brother doesn’t invite people to the house that often and partially because Poison’s a weird case to explain. They don’t particularly care much though as all their attention is turned to the birthday boy, thank God.
Poison catches brief glimpses at the friend group as they bowl, a taller guy with dirty blonde hair similar to Kobra’s, but straighter and more clean cut, is helping him with the bowling stance. Kobes’ been using the bowling ramp since the accident , but he spouted something about being a grown man that bowls like one and that spurred a round of chuckles.
The taller guy, which Poison assumed was the infamous Cherri Cola, had an arm around Kobra’s waist and helped him with the positioning as it was difficult with Kobra’s crutch.
Kobra was snickering like a schoolgirl, which made Poison snort, ‘not a date’ their ass , and then they made eye contact with another of Kobra’s friends, and they both devolved into a giggle fit which, thankfully, their little brother ignored.
Kobra got a strike and everybody cheered, making Poison look up to see all of their brother’s friends clap him on the back as the biggest, crooked-est grin spread across Kobra's face. Poison couldn’t help but smile as they got up and went to order the nachos.
They take out their wallet as they walk, an old, leather thing that once belonged to their dad. They don’t know whether they should feel bad or righteous for taking so many of his things. Poison shrugs. He owes them.
They’ve got a 10-dollar-bill out by the time he makes it to the counter and stand around awkwardly for a bit when they find that no one’s there. Poison hesitates before hitting the bell, fiddling with the bill and staring into space.
How will they pay the electricity bill?
Poison’s breath stutters and their heart drops to their stomach. Shit . Will they even have enough money after today to pay it for the month? They really damn hope they do– Kobra stiffens up cardboard when it’s cold and the weatherman said there’s gonna be snow soon.
Shit! Poison thumps the counter lightly with their fist as they spiral. Maybe they can ask Jet to help cover the costs this month? Poison bites their lips and quickly scraps the thought; they can’t just ask her! She’s already struggling with school and shit and Poison really doesn’t need to make this any harder on him.
And they know for a fact that Jet would give them the money the second they ask. Poison is making themselves sick. It’s completely inappropriate to ask Jet for money, who do they think they are?
Oh, hell, how the fuck are they gonna get Kobra’s birthday present? Jet said he wanted a comic, right? Right– comics aren’t that expensive, jus’ 4 bucks– an’– and Jet said it’s 25% off, that means it’s– it’s … fuck, they failed maths, they failed everything, they didn’t even graduate–
“Sorry that took so long, there was a prob with the fryer. What can I getcha– uh.”
Poison takes their nails from their mouth and looks at the employee working the counter and their stomach drops.
Shit.