・Lungs・

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After Florence slipped his older brother's ID, he bought a package and meandered towards the car again, tempted to light two at the same time. He only lit one, and breathed in nearly half of the stick. When he got in, he pushed the smoke out in a sigh, and replied to the other. "I'm the biggest moron I know," he replied, sucking down ash and starting the car once more.

The drive was long, for the most part. Half way there, Florence was almost out of cigarettes again, and broke from his silence. Florence rolled down Nathaniel's window, and popped open the CD holder next to him. In one swift motion, he threw the CDs out Nathaniel's window, and began to cry. He had wanted to do that the entire car ride back, because he wanted to hear the voices that occupied himself in Valencia.

He loved her like gravity loved heavenly bodies. She was everything he wasn't. He took a deep breath, and sparked a light.
 
Nate scoffed at Florence's easy acceptance for his new title. It didn't help his anger, though, and he sat through the car ride fuming.

The smell of the smoke was unbearable. Nate felt it crawling up his nose, and felt it threatened to choke out his life little by little. He couldn't imagine what it was like to smoke the damn thing, especially since once's mouth is right underneath one's nose. Why isn't the smell enough to drive anyone away from it?

Each time Florence took out a new cigarette, Nate felt another wave of nausea and anger. But every time he moved to react, he felt the tape weigh down on him, physically holding him back. What if it fell out as he argued with Florence? What if it just jumped out and screamed out 'Nate's a big fat thief! Arrest him! Send him to jail because he's an awful, awwwful person!!!'

Sometimes, Nate hated his consciousness and moral compass.

Halfway through, Nate was shocked as CDs flew past his face. He glanced over at Florence, seeing the idiotic cigarette consuming machine sobbing once more. "Florence..." He began, but he never finished.

Because there it was again... Another damn cigarette!

This time, Nate's guilty weight of stone didn't stop him. He reached out and grabbed onto the cigarette. He was careful enough to avoid the burning end, but could still feel the harsh heat scrap across his hands. He then proceeded to throw it out the window, hoping that the cars would trample it out. "No more!" He declared angrily, "They aren't helping you! They're making things WORSE."

To prevent future rebellions, Nate also reached out and grabbed the cigarette box, which he also proceeded to toss out the window without regrets.
 
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Florence reached after the box, but it was endless. He grabbed the steering wheel and didn't speak for the rest of the ride. He was mad. Did the other even know how much those were?! He spent nearly ten dollars on them! The car ride was terribly quiet, up until they reached town, and Florence took the long way to Nathaniel's house before dropping him off.

Florence drove off in the other direction-- the direction of the gas station. Bad habits are the hardest ones to break.

But it wasn't until later than things really heated up. The box that the other had grabbed was a recorder, and Florence had been keeping daily logs on there since he was a young child. It was his own therapy project, because he had such terrible hand-writing. The first log started much like this.

"STAR DATE!!!.... What's a star date? Well, July thirteenth, two-thousand-and-five! I found a recorder in my room, and asked mama what it was... she said that I could use it to talk and listen to myself, like they do on crime shows and Star-Space Trek. I want to be like the cops on TV when I grow up! Uh... Over!!"

The first couple were like that, until there were small changes in voice, and mood. He seemed calmer as he went up in age.

"Star date, March Seventh, two-thousand-and-six. We moved today-- from an apartment complex to a real house! We got it after dad left. Grandpa has been paying rent on it, and we don't technically own it, but my mom said that it's great that we have a good land-lord! Over."

Some were short,

"Star date, May eleventh, two-thousand-and-eleven. I hate my life. Over."

And some were long.

"Star date, June sixth, two-thousand-and-twelve. I wrote a poem today. I mean, I WROTE it. All by myself. On paper. With my two hands and a pencil. I'm going to read it out later on in the recording, but for now, I just wanted to say that I accomplished something. I won't ever share it with anyone. It's only for me. Over."

And some weren't logs at all. Other times, he just sat in silence. And rarely, he sang into his recorder.
 
At first, Nate felt guilty for his actions. He paused it after the first recording... But he found it sort of cute, and he noticed that there was still a lot of tape in the tape recording. He was curious. So very curious.

And since he was already breaking all sorts of rules, why not just go all the way?

It took Nate a good 15 minutes before he pressed play again. Screw mental battles. And when he started it once more, he couldn't stop. He sat there on his bed, with headphones plugged straight into his ears, and heard all of Florence's stories, from good to bad to completely boring. Everything was fed straight into his ears; it was as if Florence was talking to Nate the entire time.

When it was over, he didn't know what to think. He felt like he understood Florence on a much more personal level now, after all, he just heard all of Florence's deepest darkest secrets from the last few years in just one night. And during such a discover, Nate went on several different emotional rides with Florence. Nate felt ecstatic when Florence did, especially when he accomplished something he felt proud of. Nate felt depressed and anger when something ticked Florence off.

Nate felt awful when he heard the entries about himself and about Florence. He was an asshole, he admit, but... Well, it was all in the past. For a bit, Nate tried to remember what he hated in the other guy. To him, Florence seemed reckless, irresponsible, and an overall bad influence and shady character. And even though he knew that those description were not completely true through the last few days, the recording completely crushed all of Nate's previous prejudice towards the other. And when Florence was depressed, when he felt like his life was over, Nate felt the same and he constantly thought back to their warm hug in the hospital...

Nate still flinched and groaned at the recordings that had Valencia as their lead cast.

Even after Nate kept hearing the static that indicated the finish of the recording, Nate didn't know what to do so he didn't shut it off. Well, in truth, he didn't want to turn it off at all. So, he did the next best thing, he rewound the tape. Then... He pressed play once again.

Nate fell asleep listening to the lull of Florence's deep voice in his ears.

~~~​
Static - that was all Nate realistically heard as he woke up. But mentally, in the static, Nate could hear his own little Jiminy Cricket screaming at him at all of his wrong duties.

Finally, Nate decided to pick up his phone. But, he realized, he didn't have Florence's number yet. He groaned, and was just about to give up, but then he knew who else was going to hold Florence's number. Nate hated to intrude on rooms, even his family members. So he quickly snuck into Valecia's room as fast as he could, and left with the number of Valencia's "Bae Flor" - at least that's who he assumed was Florence.

Then, he texted Florence with his own phone. "I'm not really sorry, but I did something that you'll probably hate. - Nate".​
 
Florence had laid down his arms when he came back. He didn't tell his mom anything. He didn't mention a single thing. He went into his room, and exploded on himself. That day was terrible, and all he wanted to do was sleep. And sleep he did. He slept for about fifteen hours before he got a text message.

From her.

Florence nearly had a panic attack when she did. Maybe she was apologizing. Maybe she wanted him back! Maybe she wanted to tell him she still loved him. Florence couldn't open the message fast enough! But, when he read it, he realized that maybe he shouldn't have in the first place. He read it once. Twice. Five, six, ten times. And then he replied.

"I already hate that you texted me with her phone." He wrote, and sent to him. What was his issue? Did he HAVE to make his life a living hell? Florence wanted to throw the phone across the room, but he awaited a reply from the other, ready to explode again.
 
Nate looked at the text and flipped out a bit. Her phone? He closed out the text messaging and nearly slapped himself. He had texted from the wrong phone. This is why one doesn't try to solve things right as they wake up, he muttered to himself and quickly switched phones.

Making sure that Nate was using his OWN phone, he texted back.

"I didn't mean that, really. I'm sorry. But no, I have another thing to confess. Which you might kill you for...?" Nate pressed send, unsure how to proceed, so it took him a few moments. He continued, although quite hesitantly. "I opened your glove compartment." He finally decided on saying. He didn't mention anything about stealing... But he was quite sure Florence would be able to figure it out.

Now to wait for the death sentence.
 
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Florence wanted to kick. He wanted to scream, and yell, and kill the other. But, all he did was read the message and reply quickly.

"Well, it looks like I won't be talking to the Cross family for a very long time."

Florence, then, slammed his phone down. He was going to kill Nathaniel. After all he did for him, how could he just do that like that? He had so many personal shit in that. God, he heard about everything... Nathaniel knew stuff that Florence was too afraid to admit to even himself! He was never going to talk to him again, and that was a promise.

He rolled over in bed, and cried out of anger. He was going to run out of tears eventually.
 
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Nate read the words on the small phone screen and he visibly flinched. He knew that Florence was going to do something like that, but after hearing his voice all night... And after reading his text message.

Nate could practically hear Florence whisper the message into his ears.

At first, Nate just placed the phone down slowly, and he slumped onto the bed. What has he done? He knew Florence didn't need more shit in his life, and Nate just added one more awful brick on top of him. Florence was already shattering underneath Valencia's giant bulldozer, how would he be able to deal with Nate?

He had friends, didn't he? Nate tried to think back. When they physically fought in the school, no friends tried to push Florence out or cheered for him. When Nate encountered him later on that day, he saw nobody around Florence to help comfort him. Florence never asked anybody to assist them in their search.

There was one person - Ran - but Nate now knows that the girl wasn't to be trusted completely.

To say that Nate felt bad was an understatement. Nate felt like the devil, he felt like the worst being on earth. Hell, even a microbe could probably deal with this situation better than Nate was. But despite his fear of messing up again and screwing things up even more, Nate picked up his phone. But instead of texting, this time he dialed Florence's number.

After each ring in the phone, he muttered to himself. "Please pick up..."
 
Florence managed to rest his eyes before his phone started shrieking at him to get up. He rolled over, glared at the phone, and sighed. What was this kids problem?! He pressed the answer button, but didn't make any movement to speak.

Florence even went as far as to press mute on his phone. He couldn't believe that the other broke the only two rules in his car. He couldn't believe that he let this guy hold him like a rock. He couldn't believe he waiting for this guy outside of the hospital. Florence needed a cigarette.
 
"I'm sorry, Florence," Nate started, unsure what else to say. "I'm really sorry, I shouldn't have done that"

And while Florence stayed quiet, Nate mimicked the silence at first. He tried to search for an excuse, but what could he say? Nothing forced him to take the tape, nothing forced him to open the compartment. He only did that to spite Florence anyways. "I..."

Soon enough, the words came tumbling out of his mouth like an avalanche. He couldn't stop himself, even if he knew he was blabbering away like an idiot. "I don't regret hearing it, I got to learn more about you after all. Everything from your likes and dislikes. Your poems are nice, even if they were quite melancholic, though they definitely sound nicer when you sing. Anyways, I learned so much about you, sometimes even the way you tick! I can even see why you turned to those stupid sticks you always suck on - although I still don't approve of it. You're smoking one right now, aren't you? You should toss it away."

"The last few years of your life... It was... intriguing - I actually enjoyed hearing you talk like that..." Finally, Nate's fumbling fast talk slowed down to a pause. He realized that everything he said was actually embarrassing... For both him and the other boy. "Florence...? Hello...?"
 
Florence listened for the entire period, and felt the second hand embarrassment crash into him like a car. He was too tired to even formulate a fight, or even acknowledge how very upset he was. Florence decided that he needed his recorder back, but he really didn't want to get through the other to get it. Just to spite Nathaniel, he lit up his cigarette and blew into the phone microphone.

"Meet me at Seven-Eleven in twenty minuets. I need that recorder back." With that, it was over. Florence hung up the phone, and spent a majority of the twenty minuets trying to muster the strength to get out of bed. In the end, he didn't see a real reason why he should try anymore. He gave up, and rolled back over to call the boy again.

"Scratch that-- come to my house. " And with that, Florence was finished.
 
Florence didn't say anything about his comments, but then again, why would he? Well, to be more exact, how could he? It wasn't easy answering to compliments from a guy who just snooped through one's most private possessions after all.

Nate almost snapped when he heard a breath of air blow through the phone - he knew that Florence was just taunting the fact that he was smoking. But before he could say anything, Florence detonated a time and place to meet.

He was still in his PJs. He hasn't even brushed his teeth yet, or grabbed any sort of food to quench the growling monster in his stomach.

So he rushed. He quickly threw on some better clothes, grabbed some food and brushed his teeth. Right as he was about to walk out the door, Florence called his cell. Was he running late? Nate glanced at the clock - no, he still had about 5 minutes left. He answered the phone.

Nate felt a throb in his chest at Florence's words. He had the hunch that Florence changed the location because the other didn't want to leave the house. Didn't want to... Or couldn't. Nate quickly rushed to Florence's house, trying to think of several different ways to not only prevent his probable future death, but also to try to help the other get pass his current depression.

When he arrived, he knocked on Florence's door. He kept his hand on the radio, but he kept his hands in his pocket even as Florence opened the door. "I'll give it back to you if you let me in." Nate muttered, knowing full well that Florence had probably planned to slam the door in his face.
 
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The door was pushed open, and it was answered by none-other than...


Florence's mother.

The women opened the door, calling back into the house as she did. "Birdy, are you expecting someone?" She called, in a sing-songy voice. There was no answer. She turned to the other, and looked over him with bright blue eyes. "Oh, can I help you?" She asked. Florence's mother looked almost exactly like Florence. She had bright red hair that mopped in curls, and wore a pair of classes on her freckled nose.

Her name was Myrtle Jeanette, but legally, she was Myrtle Jean Birdwhistle. She wore a white shirt with a dingy flannel, and a pair of her sons jeans. She had her hair up in a curly bun, and it was tied off with a scrunchy. It looked like she had been working on a home project, or maybe working on a car. There were streaks of something on her shirt. It could be anything from oil to paint.

"Here, come in," She insisted quickly, pulling the other into the small house. "Let me ask Floor if he wanted a visitor," She smiled, and shuffled into the other's room. It was quiet, until the other asked a question in a hush voice. There was no reply. The mother sighed, whispered 'What am I going to do with you?' and quickly exited the room. "My apologies, he isn't feeling too well. Please, make yourself comfortable."

The house looked like it came right out of an old 80's movie. There were lava lamps and bean-bags in the living rooms, hanging lamp-shades in the kitchen, ugly green cabinets. It was like a teenager from the 80's had designed the entire house, and really, Florence and his mother did design it and redesign it from top to bottom.
 
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To say he was surprised was quite the understatement. Nate never even thought of the possibility of encountering Florence's mom, so he blinked a bit as she led him indoors. She seemed kind... Nice. A kind, gentle mother figure - so different from his own. Florence's mother reminded Nate of Snow White.

When she returned with the news, Nate nodded mutely, wondering why Florence wasn't coming out to see him. He looked around a bit, looking at the strangely decorated living room. He's been in there once before, but at the time, he was just watching Florence run around like a headless chicken. This time, he's able to truly see how... exotic his place was.

But it wasn't bad. It wasn't awful at all.

After a few moments, Nate stood up. If Florence wasn't going out to see him, Nate knew he had to take the initiative. "I'm going to see Florence, if you don't mind, Mrs. Birdwhistle." He said politely to Florence's mother and retraced her steps to find Florence's room. There, he tapped on the door three times before opening the door.

He peeked inside and called out, "Florence? It's me, Nate."
 
At that, 'Mrs. Birdwhistle' only said, "Call me Myrtle." With a wink, she let him do as he might, and she went back into the garage. She was working on something for the family dog as of then, but she hadn't seen the dog in a while. She just assumed it was in Florence's bedroom. She pulled out a can of red paint, and began painting once more.

Florence yelled at the other from his room. "Leave it outside the door." He said, muffled through blankets and pillows. He was so tired, so weak, he hadn't even changed when he got home from the trip. He didn't even take off his shoes. Florence rolled in his bed, hoping and praying that the other wasn't going to barge in there and forcibly do something Florence would hate.
 
Nate just scoffed and opened the door to walk in. He closed the door behind him and placed the tape recorder on the desk. "I'm not going to leave now that I'm here." He muttered.

Then he looked over at Florence, seeing the guy curled up in bed. He came over and sat down with him, at the edge of the bed. But he didn't know what to say. "Your... mother seems really nice. I like her." He finally muttered out.

He glanced over at Florence, wishing that the guy would get up and be his usual active self.
 
A figure poked it's head out of the blanket. It was the dog that had been running Florence's mother on her knees all morning. The dog was giant, to say the least, and Florence had been sapping body heat from the dog since he got home last night. The god was a giant Saint Bernard, and it began to growl at the sight Nathaniel.

Florence placed a hand on it's head, and scolded it. "Water-Lou, bad." He muttered, before the dog climbed up and laid next to Florence in a lazy manor. "Leave the recorder there, Nathaniel," He said, a little louder. He had a headache, and wasn't in the mood for games like this.
 
Nate tumbled back a bit, caught off guard yet again. "Woah!" His butt slammed against the floor harshly, and he winced at the pain. "That's some big dog..." He muttered a bit, standing back up. He kept a close eye on the giant growling bernard.

"I already placed it on the counter." Nate muttered, though he didn't barge from his spot. "I just want to talk. You probably shouldn't be alone at a time like this."

Once again, his eyes went over to the dog. He felt the urge to put the giant beast, but he wasn't quite sure if he was allowed to keep his hand if he did so. So he just continued to stand next to the bed, shifting on the balls of his feet, feeling quite awkward.
 
"I'm not alone," Florence said. "I'm okay. My mom is here." He said, rolling his eyes. "Leave." Florence guessed that the other might have been dropped on the head when he was a child. Atleast, that's what Valencia had always said.

Oh, god, Valencia. Florence needed another smoke. He had to put his out, because his mother can't stand the smell. He knew that if he tried to reach over, the other would intercept it. He sighed, and sank further into his blanketed dungeon.
 
As Florence snuggled into the blanket, Nate grabbed the blanket and pulled it off. He used as much force as he could, making sure that the blanket completely flew off of Florence and off of the bed. "Look, you can't just stay here forever!"

Nate was furious, his eyes narrowed. "Come on, we're going to go out and do something. When was the last time you ate a nice juicy hamburger?" Nate grabbed Florence's arm and tried to pull him off the bed as well.
 
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