Keaton
the stars, the moon, they have all been blown out
He was every girl’s secret desire and every parent’s nightmare.
He had tattoos up his arms, wrapped around his ribcage, dotting his back. A silver hoop hung in his left ear. He was over six feet tall with abs and biceps to die for. He wore his skinny jeans low, showing off his boxer shorts. Since it was summer, he seldom had a shirt on. Not that that was a problem for anyone, especially girls. When he did wear shirts, they were short-sleeved and ironic.
He smoked cigarettes during the day and weed at night. He only drank after seven and always stopped by midnight. And he didn’t care that he was under the influence; he drove his car drunk, high, sober.
On nights when he couldn’t sleep, he’d crawl out of his window and climb the tree beside his house to get onto his roof. From here, you could see the whole neighborhood, including my house. He spent many nights up there alone until he had someone to share it with.
I should have seen it coming. Everyone else did. But I was in denial and I was blinded by my feelings for him. I liked him for all the ways he wasn’t me. I liked that he talked about deep things. Important things. Always around a cigarette or a joint. I liked how everyone hung onto his words because they seemed meaningful. He didn’t believe in God. He didn’t believe in heaven or hell. He didn’t think he’d ever die.
Keaton was wrong. Keaton was wrong about a lot of things. And when everything went pear-shaped, he left me there to fix it.
He had tattoos up his arms, wrapped around his ribcage, dotting his back. A silver hoop hung in his left ear. He was over six feet tall with abs and biceps to die for. He wore his skinny jeans low, showing off his boxer shorts. Since it was summer, he seldom had a shirt on. Not that that was a problem for anyone, especially girls. When he did wear shirts, they were short-sleeved and ironic.
He smoked cigarettes during the day and weed at night. He only drank after seven and always stopped by midnight. And he didn’t care that he was under the influence; he drove his car drunk, high, sober.
On nights when he couldn’t sleep, he’d crawl out of his window and climb the tree beside his house to get onto his roof. From here, you could see the whole neighborhood, including my house. He spent many nights up there alone until he had someone to share it with.
I should have seen it coming. Everyone else did. But I was in denial and I was blinded by my feelings for him. I liked him for all the ways he wasn’t me. I liked that he talked about deep things. Important things. Always around a cigarette or a joint. I liked how everyone hung onto his words because they seemed meaningful. He didn’t believe in God. He didn’t believe in heaven or hell. He didn’t think he’d ever die.
Keaton was wrong. Keaton was wrong about a lot of things. And when everything went pear-shaped, he left me there to fix it.
♠ ♠ ♠
the chapter titles are going to be from florence + the machine's song, cosmic love.that's also the song that the lyrics from the summary are from. so yeah.
this story will be hard for me to write so updates may come slow.
a tremendous amount of thanks go to my beta. ♥