+✩‧+ ̊౨ৎ ̊ N ine in the afternoon

for my p!atd enjoyers & stevie lovers

the sun was doing that late afternoon trick where everything looked dipped in sepia—dust motes drifting slow through the air, the blinds half limp. the joint rested between your fingers, paper slightly crumpled from a nervous grip, and he tried not to stare like a chia pet waiting to sprout. you slid it toward him like it was contraband and also like it was the most normal thing in the world. “okay, first of all,” he says, voice already a little slower, like he’s choosing each word carefully, “i cannot believe you stole this from your own brother. criminal, but...iconic.”

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"geez, look at ya... eyes are the size of the moon," instant regret for that sudden sincerity.