Status: doubtful

Baby & the Bone: Vol. II

KIRBY

You think I wanted to fuck her? You think I was in love with her?

Can you hear how bad that sounds? How stupid can you be?

As you’ve probably figured by now, Val fucked Lil, the same way they all do. You tell me what’s worse: the fact cash no longer buys me shit, or the fact my sister’s only worth a handful of benzos. It’s funny… you know, in a way that isn’t very funny at all.

Sitting stoned in the grimey, aubergine bean bag chair with the filler leaking out, Val unwraps a series of plastic bags he’s pulled from inside one of his shoes.

Up until this moment, my focus has been Lil. Always Lil. Never not Lil. The thing is - and it took me fifteen fucking years to realize this - the thing is, I could always dissect her. Determine her motives. Recognize the way she separates her feelings from her actions. Prompt her to want the things she can’t have. Familiarize with the outcome of crushed hopes which results in the feeling of not being good enough which results in the need to overcompensate. Observe. Draw conclusions. Repeat.

The thing is it didn’t matter how well I knew my sister. What I wanted to figure out was how she had that effect on people, why they seemed to bend at her will and sever limbs for the sake of being showcased in her outstanding trophy collection. It’s funny… you know, in a way where it takes a while for somebody to get the punchline.

They’ll try, but no one can really explain what it is about Lil. But don’t think about it, and you’ll see right through her, too. It was never her full, downy lips; it’s not the way her nipples are the size of pennies and rose pink.

“Vicodin,” he says, making his way over from his corner of the cabin. “Oxy. Percocet. Valium. Ativan,” he says, dropping the blues, pinks, and whites into the palm of my hand.

“And,” Val adds, “Klonopin. For your goddamn airplane anxiety.”

It’s the way Lil fucks you, the way she’ll just lie there, pretending to be bored shitless. Not only are you buried in her pussy (which can only be described in two words: “cute” and “perfect”), but she’s surrounded you in her air and it’s already too late to resurface. Before you know it, two minutes have gone by and suddenly, you’ve finished. You’re out of breath, you’re exhausted, and for a heartbeat, you think you’re in love.

Now all you want to do is fucking spoon this girl, cuddle, and hold her goddamn hand, but no, almost the exact second you’ve nutted, Lil crawls out from beneath you, pulling on your favorite sweater, goes to check her text messages, then smokes the last of your cigarettes. The morning after, you’re left with her scent of grapefruit and vanilla. You’ll find she’s deleted her number from your phone.

You think I sound jealous? That’s pretty funny… you know, in a way where it’s fucking not.
♠ ♠ ♠
look at how hot kirby is in the character things
*heart eyes emoji*