part three

                                    

                                          

꧁y/n's pov꧂
i shot up, gasping for air as tears stained my cheeks in a salty wetness. my chest heaved up and down in a panic as i tried to calm myself down. but, it only ended up with a break down. i curled my legs up to my chest and let my throaty sobs that i've kept locked up all out at once. 
finally, in exhaustion, i finish my stupid weekly break down and grab my headphones, hoping music will distract me from the horrible reality replaying in my head as gentle tears still stream down my cheeks. 
"i'll get my cure, wait in the car. i won't remember who you are."  played into my ears as i slipped my feet into my slippers, wipped my tears, and walked towards my window. its been two days since i've moved in so far. and i'm still not used to waking up in this room. it feels so unfamiliar and i'm really hoping that'll change soon. 
the bright lights from passing cars and loud bars flicker in my window, making my already sore eyes burn. a soft groan slips out under my breath as i open the window and stick my head out. 
a cold, fresh breeze of air fills my lungs in an addicting blow. it smelled faintly of weed and grime...thats new york for you.
i climb out the window, my feet landing against the metal bars beneath me with a loud rattle. without shutting the window behind me, my knees buckle and i fall against the first step of the rust old fire escape right outside my window. 
my head falls against my knees with a soft thump. tears claw at my eyes like a 'tamed' animal after its first taste of freedom. degrading whispers fill my head so loud i can barely hear my music anymore. 
a small sniffle sucks in a stronger scent of weed. i unintentionally cough at the sudden smell, looking around for the sourse. something rattles beneath me, drawing my attention. 
miles morales, blunt in hand, staring up at a teary eyed me. honestly, i'm not even suprised. i knew 'mr. perfect' had some kind of escape. i just didn't expect smoking to be it. maybe alcohol but not drugs. 
i give him a small wave without even thinking. as soon as i prosses my subconscious action, he waves back with a small smirk. then, he waves me down. 
'why does this weirdo want me down there??' is all i thought as i walked down the shakey, rusty steps instead of my gut-wrenching nightmare that i originally came out here to forget. so, i guess thanks miles?
"yo, y/n" his eyes are on the brink of closing and bloodshot. his voice is deeper and softer then normal. which is suprising for some reason. 
"hey? what are you doing this late?" unintentionally, my tone is scolding as i narrow my eyes on miles stoned face. he wore a simple pair of black basketball shorts that looks like he threw on just to go out. 
"i'll give you three guesses" he chuckled, taking another long hit before blowing the smoke infront of him. his braids fell down his bare chest as he leaned back against the cold glass of his window. "want some?" he held it up for me. 
i stared down at it, narrowing my eyes on the small blunt. i always told myself i wasnt going to use drugs to forget my problems...but it feels so tempting now. i nod and take it, sitting down beside him as holding it between my thumb and pointer finger awkwardly. i continue to stare at it, still mentally contimplating before miles laughed. 
"first time?" he sat forward, leaning his arms against his knees. i nod my head without looking over at him. "you 'on't have t-" 
i pull it up to my lips, inhailing for a little over three seconds before shoving it towards him and coughing loudly. my eyes squeeze shut as it feels like a fire erupted in my lungs. miles laughter grows but he pats my back reasuringly as i practically hack a lung up.