just another monster

It's not as if he's in trouble, exactly, but it certainly feels like it. If his dad's 'I'm not mad, I'm just disappointed' face had been anything to go by. Really, it was a lose-lose situation, but the prick had definitely deserved a punch. Not his fault his step-mom taught him how to throw a punch the summer before that and David's nose was apparently made of paper maché. Sucks to suck. There's no grounding because his parents believe in talking things out and actually listening to his side of things, there's definitely a vibe of 'you should probably stay in your room the rest of the week' lingering in the air.

Homework as close to done as it's going to get before the weekend gets abandoned for an old paperback. Flopped on his bed with Journey playing softly out of the worn-out stereo, he loses himself in the yellowed pages he could probably recite from memory if he tried when a loud 'tink' jerks his attention toward his window. After a few moments, another follows and it sounds more like a small pebble bouncing off his window frame. Flinging himself out of bed, he opens his window, squinting out into the darkness.

It takes him a minute to focus on Sal's form waving at him from the dark lawn and he huffs, casting an incredulous look toward his friend as he whisper-shouts leaning out of his bedroom window.

"Dude, you could have texted." He gestures pointedly to the police cruiser parked in their driveway. Sure, his dad is home, but he's not unreasonable. Until one of his windows is broken by a weirdo lurking outside his home. Parents are overprotective and weird like that.

"How many of those did you even throw before you got the right window?"