(I'm Not Real by Mac Miller ft. Earl Sweatshirt)

| 10 | more money more problems.

Apologies were never really my strong suit. I never really had a valid reason to go up to someone and actually apologize for something I had done... if they were weak enough for something I said to be taken so far out of context that they'd need an apology, it wasn't my problem.

And if it wasn't taken out of context, I meant it.

I didn't wanna start apologizing either and that came from a place of disinterest, I wasn't interested in having people around, certainly not enough to go out of my way and apologize for how they perceived things. What I said and did, when I did and said it, I meant it.

But I felt some sort of inclination to tell Pricilla that I was sorry. She barely knew me, didn't have the luxury of understanding just how much of an ass I actually was because she simply hadn't been around long enough. It was a common curtesy to offer a single slip and although, I normally wouldn't have cared about how badly I'd objectified her or whatever... she didn't walk into it.

That was the thing, see, Mackenzie, she knew what she was doing. Mackenzie knew that we had a sexual relationship, every girl I slept with had to know that no matter how pretty they were or how different they claimed to be, I didn't want a girlfriend. Pricilla didn't know because she wasn't a contender, she wanted a friendship.

And I had to admit she was interesting.

So maybe an apology didn't seem so far-fetched, maybe that was why I'd caught up to her with an apology lingering. I hadn't really spoken to her since the day she came over, not trying in Ceramics because honestly, I didn't care enough but she was putting books in her locker now and I didn't have anywhere to be.

"Cilla." She had her bag open, propped up on her knee and her thigh was peaking through the rips in her jeans. That was the first time I'd seen her wear anything really form-fitting, hair falling in loose waves down her back and tucked behind her ear exposing a cartilage piercing. Her hand was rifling through her things when I'd leaned on the locker beside hers.

"Hey."

She'd barely looked over, only to spare a small glance before pulling out a textbook and a binder, "What?" She went to sit it on the floor, probably to adjust her things for her next class and I caught them before she even bent over.

Books in my hands, I watched her sigh, zip her bag and hang it up.

And I didn't expect the coldness, didn't think she cared enough but she seemed to be the disinterested one now and I found myself asking more. I never asked more. "Are you mad at me?" Why would I ask? I didn't care. Yeah, Ian said fix it but when did I ever take orders from Ian?

"Why're you asking me this?"

Why was I asking her this? "Well, you ran out of lunch yesterday." And you've been crying.

Something told me she didn't want anyone to see her cry and me saying anything about it, that would open the door to the possibility of her pushing past me and shutting down completely. Maybe it would've been better that way, feelings weren't really my thing and I could at least say I tried then. I could go back to my friends with a shrug and that would be it, we wouldn't know her.

And if we were being honest, she was mad about nothing. Sure I said I wanted to fuck her but I was telling the truth, to anyone else it would have been a compliment. I was high, I wasn't in the right frame of mind and I didn't ask her to come over, she did that on her own. I had nothing to really be sorry for, she was hot and she was in my face.

"Contrary to what you might believe, not everything's about you, Elliot."

Her voice was normal, level and she'd finished up, grabbing a pen and closing her locker, she'd taken her books from me, spinning around in her vans and she was walking away. This girl was something else, first she was mad and now she was claiming that she wasn't? She avoided both me and the rest of the guys just to not be mad?

There had to be something going on, why did I care so much?

"Wanna talk about it?" I found myself asking, falling in line with her steps and she looked so oddly alluring just walking away.

"No."

"Well, can we talk about something else?"

At that, she stopped, blinking her big brown eyes over at me. "I'm really not in the mood." I liked that about her, I wasn't sure what it was but she seemed like she had no time for me. Maybe I liked a challenge.

I could get any girl if I wanted to, girls liked the whole 'I don't have time for you' act just as much as I did: my brother's coworkers, cheerleaders, older women... Hell, if I wanted Mackenzie back, all I had to do was ask. But not Pricilla, she wanted me, that much was obvious but she wasn't the type to give me the satisfaction and I honestly didn't want that either.

I wanted to stop thinking about her, stop looking at her far too long and not realizing until far too late. I wanted guilt to stop popping up in the back of my damn head when she didn't sit with us at lunch and I wanted Ian and Colin to get off my ass.

It was a compliment, that I wanted to fuck her, you know how many girls would take that as a compliment?

But she was still walking away and despite the fact that I didn't really want to, I was following her.

"I'm sorry, okay?" My voice came out forced, the words feeling foreign, I never apologized for my actions because I always meant them. When you started apologizing for things, people start to think that they deserve more attention and then shit gets complicated way too fast. But, "I shouldn't have said it, it was disrespectful."

"You don't talk to people like that." Yes, Mom.

"I know." I wanted to roll my eyes then but hers were just so wide and she was clutching her books and she looked fucking cute with her lip in between her teeth. "Look, I'm a fuckin' mess, okay? And you're really hot-"

"Again." But there was a small smile playing on her lips and she was trying to hide it.

I found myself apologizing again, knowing she was close to forgiving. "Sore-y." I mocked, voice obviously purely mimicking her overtly Canadian one and she'd rolled her big brown eyes then. "I guess... I don't know how to talk to people. Especially not you and what I said was out of line, it was."

"I don't care that you do drugs, it's none of my business." She'd spoken up when we'd gotten to her class, turning around and her back was to the door, other students bustling in before the bell. "But if we're gonna be friends, you can't disrespect me... and you can't talk about having sex with me, Elliot."

"I know."

My remorse must've slipped through, her eyes softening and she was biting her lip. Head tilted, she scrunched up her brows. "I don't get you."

Voice soft, she sighed and she was smiling now, it small. "You can be such an ass sometimes but right now, you're not. You're sweet... and remorseful, I didn't really think you were capable of that." Honestly, I didn't either.

But I just fought a laugh, trying to remain serious, I wasn't sure what about her always brought some sense of euphoria.

"I'm hard to understand." She chuckled at that, eyes flickering up to look at me in disbelief and we were back to our usual dynamic again. "But next time I'm tripping balls, I'll tell you."

"Promise?"

She was cute like that, flicking out her pinky as representation of a promise and I rolled my eyes, twining mine around hers anyways. "Yeah."

• • •

Parker texted me as soon as school ended requesting I meet him downtown, a promise of a high paying job that night. I tried not to pay attention to the way my body instantly tensed up reading the message, my hands shaking and I made a mental note to not forget my insulin again.

Ignoring Oliver was easy because he oddly didn't make any effort in conversation on the way home. His hands were clenched on the steering wheel, eyes set straight on the road and he didn't shift his gaze to me not even once I'd lit a cigarette in the passenger seat for the sole purpose of annoying him.

No, he stayed silent, stayed seated when he'd parked. He opted to linger behind when I entered the house, rushing to my room to pack my bag and make a few plays before meeting Parker.

Closing my door behind me, I twisted the lock when I heard Oliver enter, the garage door closing. Sighing, I threw my bag down on my bed, homework I'd complete later that night and moved towards my closet.

Grabbing the suitcase off the top shelf, I pulled it down, setting it on the floor in front of me and going for my stash. Upon unzipping the bag, my eyes blew wide, the smell lingering and it'd been opened that day and not securely closed.

My heart started racing, mouth getting dry when it wafted over me, I blinked as if it were a nightmare. All the mason jars were left open, weed crumbs sitting deep in the glass and poured over the side. My scale laid in the middle, flipped over as if the bag had been ransacked by someone specifically looking for what they found.

Sitting back, I tried to catch my breath, tried to calm down before I freaked out.

My mom would've called as soon as she'd found it. She would've been there to meet me at the door with a lecture and a smack. There was no way she knew.

Oliver.

Standing, I nearly toppled over the open bag, darting towards the door with purpose in my walk. I unlocked it, hearing the TV playing in the living room and instantly anger took over. My nostrils were flaring, eyes blown wide at the scene of my brother lazing over the couch. What the fuck?

He didn't look up when I entered, only flicking the TV off and and instantly, I sputtered. "Did you take my shit?"

"What?" He'd asked, in that tone that said he definitely did. And he turned to look at me with a blank face. I never wanted to kill him more. Breathing out through stuttering lips, I tried to relax, wiping my face with a shaky hand.

I was beyond livid and he was just sitting there all unbothered as if he didn't take the entirety of the stash Parker had to convince the guys reworked with to cut me in on. "You went into my room, went through my stuff!" And he was looking for it, must've been because there was no way he'd think to go through my closet otherwise. "Just give it back."

I could understand his concern, could even see how he thought what he was doing was somewhat beneficial for me and in other circumstances, I'd have probably appreciated it. But he was sitting here and wasting time and I could've walked down to the skatepark, maybe sold a few dime bags in enough time to meet up with Parker.

If I had a cut for him tonight from the stash he'd given me a week ago, he'd be somewhat satisfied and that would be good for me.

But Oliver didn't need to know that, all he needed to know was that it wasn't his fucking place to go through my shit in the first place. And he was sitting there all high and fucking mighty, eyebrows raised. "You don't need it."

"Who the hell do you think you are, Oliver?"

He was laughing now when I rushed back to the guest room, through some of the shit he constantly left over here. I was toppling through dressers, he wouldn't think to bring it to his house. Maybe it was in his car. "You're not gonna find it."

"What?" It was way too much for him to flush and I only hoped he hid it.

It seemed like he'd taken it in a rush, what could he have done.

He was leaning on the door frame now, smirking like some fucking self-righteous superhero and his arms were crossed over his chest. "You do a lot of reckless shit and if the cops come knocking, I won't have the pipes looking like Pablo fucking Escobar lives here."

Pablo Escobar sold narcotics you fucking narcissist.

Screwing my eyes together, I tried to calm my racing heart. "You don't know what the hell you're doing." Trying to relax, I knew that the only way to get him to listen would be to speak to him on a groveling level. Oliver liked to be right as much as he liked to be in charge and if I gave him a sense of him having some sort of say, he'd cave. "Just give it back, man, please."

I probably looked like a junkie to him, probably looked like someone who was going to be found in the next few weeks overdosed with a needle in his arm. My brother was so worried then, I could see it in his eyes at my plea. "Can't."

Briefly, I thought up just how much he could do if I told him that I was selling. He'd have to give it back, right? He'd have to because he knew how serious it was... he hung around drug dealers, he'd warned me against selling.

And I'd never been a very emotional guy, there wasn't much that truly upset me to a depressing point... at least I thought I wasn't but his next sentence almost made me tear up.

"I emptied it in the storm drain a few hours ago, you're not gonna find it."

"Are you insane?" Parker was gonna fucking kill me. He looked so fucking smug then, standing there in front of me with his arms crossed as if he did something completely fucking clever.

He was so fucking stupid.

I was stepping towards him then, anger taking over, and we hadn't fist fought in years. I'd never swung on Oliver like this though, not this harshly and angrily and honestly, sloppily. He was reaching for my wrist when he dodged the punch so effortlessly.

"Elliot!" His voice held so much confusion and he was caught off guard but I couldn't help slamming my head forward, head butting him so hard he'd let me go.

"Fuck!"

He was stumbling backwards, hand smacked over his nose and I bit my tongue to keep from screaming. That was fucking stupid and I knew I'd feel it later. Anger and adrenaline fueled me then and I was stalking back over to Oliver, him pushing me back by my chest harshly.

Oliver was stumbling, looking down at his hand, blood covering the surface and he was breathing so heavily then. I wondered if he'd try to hurt me, do the same shit he was locked up for.

I jerked backwards, almost falling over my feet and before he could leave, I lurched forward again, pushing him out the door. "You owe me four hundred bucks!" He was backing away, hand clenched into a fist at his side as he angled towards the living room. Turning, my brother made his way to the kitchen and I followed behind.

"Four hundred..." He trailed off, digging through the drawers and I heard the anger in his voice. He was shaking as he brought a dishtowel to our ice dispenser, holding the cold up to his nose. It's not like it hasn't been broken about four times now.

It took a second, and then, "You're a fucking drug dealer."

"Do you realize that Parker is going to fucking kill me? Do you understand that?" I was yelling and he was reaching forward to throw a punch into my shoulder-blade, knocking me off balance and into the counter. Searing pain struck through me, my hip jamming into the edge of the island and I sucked in a sharp breath.

He was throwing the rag now, hard as he could to the wall, not caring about how the ice was hard enough to shatter the picture frame hanging there. He was turning then, gray eyes filled with malice, hands curling tight around my shirt and yanking me to look into his crazy eyes. "Are you that fucking stupid?"

He looked like Oliver from three years ago and there malice in his voice when he spit out a, "God, you're just like dad." Letting go, he threw me back and I was getting so fucking tired of him acting so fucking high and mighty.

"Shut the fuck up."

"Throwing your life away for drugs!" He was shaking his head then and he'd distanced himself, breathing out through his mouth and eyes closed as if he was trying to stay calm. When that didn't work, he smacked his hand down on the counter, the sound echoing through the entire house. "He threw us away, Elliot!"

Oliver was gripping the edge of the counter then, knuckles white with the effort and I was so sure he would snap at any minute.

But he was wrong, Dad had been in and out of jail longer than I'd been alive.

"He threw you away." Laughing, I tried not to allude to the throbbing in my arm. "Cause you're fucking insane." He was gritting his teeth then and I stepped closer. "You're crazy, Psycho. You've always been fucking crazy."

I knew that pissed him off, could tell by the tick in his jaw, eyes alight with rage and maybe I wanted him to snap.

"Eli-"

"Fuck you." He stopped trying then, eyes in slits, "fuck you, you fucking psycho."

He was stepping to me now, balling his fists. "You think you scare me?"

Leaning closer, I was in his face, looking into his eyes and that was the first time I'd been toe-to-toe with Oliver. "You gonna hit me? Hit me." And he stood there, just looked at me with that angry ass look of his and I found myself fighting a smirk. I was so fucking angry and I didn't care. I wanted him to swing first.

He never did, just stared me down and after a few seconds, I got bored of it. No matter what I did, he wouldn't fight me, some secret fucking oath with that bitch he's marrying or some shit. Pushing him back, I sucked my teeth,"pussy."

• • •

Ian Davis was one of those people who cared a little too much. Although, he stayed out of my business for the most part, I knew that when it came down to it, he'd have my back on almost anything. Being raised in a multiple-kid household with, you know, sound minds... he wasn't brought up with the same everybody for themselves mentality I had.

Ian was a close friend of mine, without him, I was pretty sure my life would be deteriorating faster. Maybe that's why I kept distance with my personal life; I didn't want anyone feeling responsible for my actions because they got involved when they shouldn't have. I didn't want anyone close to me because getting close to people always led to someone getting fucked over.

"You didn't show at Clancey's." Clancey's was what this town called this old abandoned warehouse where they used to make some type of useless shit. Apparently some guy last name Clancey worked at there once upon a time... Shit went wrong, he went crazy and shot the place up. Every once in a while, we'd go down as someone was bound to have a rager and there'd been one the night before.

I'd been busting my ass making plays for Parker, four hundred bucks was worth more than getting shitfaced at this point, I sold the rest of the stash that I did have from my own personal shit, all the pills I could scrounge up from the back room of Inked, the coke I stole.

It'd been a week and I still hadn't told him about Oliver's fuck up. I still hadn't talked to Oliver but I knew he'd contribute. Even despite us fighting, how much disdain he probably had for me at this point, he was just a good fucking person.

And he wasn't gonna leave me out to dry.

Slipping a plastic baggie into the hand of the kid beside me, he exchanged a ten and I shoved it in my pocket before calling over to Ian. "Was busy."

I shrugged, the kid disappearing off the ramp at the park. I dangled my feet over the edge then, eyes straight forward and it was nearing dark, I could probably sell Mack a few baggies, steal a few more.

White kids paid a fuck ton for coke.

"You're always busy nowadays." That was Ian again, he was turning the wheel of his skateboard, eyes on the side of my face and he was sitting right next to me, like he could see right through me.

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?" He wasn't caught off guard by the edge in my voice. I made eye contact with another kid, the kid I'd previously sold to talking to him for a little while and honestly, I should've emptied the baggies a little more, could've spread it out because I only had four left. These kids would've bought baby powder if advertised properly.

When Ian didn't respond, I snorted, "you sound like a bitch, Ian."

He looked annoyed, eyes rolling when I looked over at him and he answered, finally. "Tavis said he saw you hangin' around Dev and them." Tavis needed to mind his fucking business, everyone did. "They ain't after you no'more?"

"None of your business."

It was silent for a second, Ian grabbing for the joint behind his ear and he went to light it but not before asking. "Seriously, you okay?"

"What?"

He'd bumped my shoulder then, sparking up. "Nigga, we been friends for two years now and I ain't never seen you act all shifty, something's up." And yeah, I was being such a dick to him. He was just trying to look out for me and I should've been grateful.

But all I could think of was the fact that my brother fucking dumped four hundred dollars worth of weed down the goddamn drain... literally. "You know sooner or later you're gonna have to start letting me in."

And I was tired of this conversation already, pushing off the ramp and I was on my feet before Ian could speak again. "I pick later." Backing away, I went to find Colin.

He was sitting on the side, chatting up some ugly girl with the widest eyes and dark hair cut into this messy ass short cut. She looked like a crackhead and that was what uncensored me. "Yo, you still got those moonrocks?" Moonrocks sold for a lot.

Colin's blue eyes blew wide then, wider than the crackhead beside him and he stood. Grabbing for my arm, he yanked me to the side and I shrugged him off. "Dude."

Rolling my eyes then, I continued. I didn't have time for this shit."Do you still have them? Like a decent stash?"

"Yeah, why?"

And I could've kissed him at that moment. Trying to suppress my inner excitement, I found myself actually smiling, a small smile. Breathing out a breath of relief, I could finally take a second. "How much you want for 'em?" This could solve everything, moon rocks were so fucking expensive and Colin wouldn't ask for too much.

Colin laughed then, as if it was a ridiculous ass question and I tried not to look too confused.

When I didn't laugh as well, his blonde brows raised, nearly reaching his hairline. "You're serious."

"Do I look like I'm kidding?"

He furrowed his brows then, "I don't really know, uh, I smoked with Mack a week ago." And he didn't know I sold, that much was obvious, and it would be better if it stayed that way. "Come over tomorrow and we'll scale up."

A/N:

God, I really do slack on this story, really sorry but I finally figured out what I wanna do with it.

Updated: Tuesday, September 24th.

Who would win in a fight? Oliver or Elliot?