is grey

the sky was a deep ash, the clouds coating every inch of the milky-toned sky. rain spit on LT's scarred skin as he sat on his porch.

his eyes were tired. his body was tired. his mind was tired. his heart, however was awake as ever, it pumping virtuously and viscously out of his chest. his thumb graced the broke pencil blade in his hand.

it slit his thumb, the sting from the air entrancing his senses. he didn't want to tell them. he didn't want to tell her. he didn't want to admit he loved the pain.

he stood up and walked back inside the house. he didn't want to be here. the rugged, old apartment was clean-dirty. no matter how many times Tucker scrubbed the walls and wiped down the tables and vacuumed, it would still look (and smell) like shit.

he sat on the couch; coughing. the smoke from the ash tray still protruded and the secondhand smoke killed his lungs. weather it be from caroline's childish puffing weed and blowing the smoke in LT's face or the stranded in the air, it hurt his throat and made it hard to breathe. he wished she at least tried to stop the habit; it worried him and he didn't want to see her die 10 years young. she claimed she was an addict in the same sense he was addict to the sweets in the cabinets.

he didn't really understand how a cancer stick comforted her the same way as food did to him. there's nothing good out of cigars or weed; it's just was pointless nothings that hurt your body further and further. he could  detox himself after every binge, he could let the calories and bad effects go down a drain. caroline couldn't purge lung cancer.

his elbows were propped on his knees as he gave a soft sigh. his cat, cotton, hopped on the leather couch and brushed her soft, white fur against his skin. she was but a mere kitten that he found outside about a week ago. caroline cursed him out and slapped him when she found it in her room. she told him he needed to grow up.

maybe he was a child. but that's all he knew. he didn't understand how to talk or socialize or handle everything around him. maybe he was overreacting. maybe he was an idiot. he didn't know anymore.

cotton licked his hand and Tucker smiled, kissing her soft head. she purred at his touch. he gave a soft smile and picked her up, the small cat letting a meow escape her tiny lips. he gave a soft grin and brushed his thumb against her head.

his phone blinked and the "darling!" contact came up; Caroline. he didn't want to react bad, to feel scared. hr wanted to smile at it. but he couldn't.

the text wasn't too bad, just her coming home in five. he gave a sigh of relief.

hopefully she would be in a good mood tonight.