Let me put my love into you babe..
Let me put my love on the line..
Wu Yi Fan.
Last strains of AC/DC died off with a sort of reluctant flourish,
— you should have turned up the goddamn radio, asshole, I missed my jam —
and he drinks more of that hard shit, waiting for retribution with a sick sense of humor; the music pounded on, like a pair of lovers during a late night quickie. Can’t get caught, it seemed to say, but incredibly delicious all the saaaame~
Everybody always said he was a bad boy. Born bad, they called it. A real looker, but he’s a Wu. A goddamned Wu, for chrissakes. How could he have turned out like this? His family must be ashamed.
He doesn’t care. Really. Honestly. Matter-of-factly. Having fame was a given, but he really didn’t want it. okay, maybe he did, after all, lots of girls.. And boys. And fun. Fun as in sex. Fun as in drunk-as-fuck parties. Fun as in doing stupid shit with the crew. Or.. maybe it wasn’t really fun. Maybe his brain had long since tricked him into thinking that everything was okay as it was, that nothing was fucked up — which it really was — and he didn’t need a steady love and a steady life and job.
Or maybe he was secretly waiting for a sign.
- I’m .. Kris?
- I’m good at sex
- I’m good at drinking
- I’m good at tattoos
- I’m good at having a good time
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