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Chaz stuffed his hands in his pockets. The cold air hitting his fingertips was making them freeze into a buzzing numb, and he’d prefer not losing his hands. The warmth from the material enveloping his hands was a drastic change compared to his flushed cheeks, tingling with cold.
Looking downwards at the dirty chips of wood splayed above dirt, he studied the playground. Chaz saw children here earlier, but right now, it looked like not a single metal surface had been touched in ages. As blond locks fell in front of his eyes, they fell on a pair of pale hands, fingers interlocked and holding him in place. It reminded him of the hair against the back of his neck that wasn’t his own, and he let out a hum.
“Stan. Aren’t you cold? I’m cold.”
“Mm.” Hardly a response.
The taller rolled his eyes. “Okay. Fuck you, too.”
Friends. That’s what they were, yet they hadn’t met up at a place like this in months. Isn’t this similar to where the two met? No, that was different. Memories with this boy tended to blur in one in comparison to any other.
He squirmed, the position putting a strain on his spine. He wanted to go home, wherever that was now. Cold hands pressing into his ribs kept him from moving. Defeated, Chaz slumped forward again, his shoulders rolling in suit. Ugh, they could totally be in bed right now. He didn’t understand the obsession with dark fields and flickering street lights at the dead of night.
Silence filled the cold air, a faint reminder. He let the cold drag him under, just for a bit. Unlike heat, it soothed the bruises on his face, ones he couldn’t differentiate who they were from. He knew the purple hue on his eyelids was courtesy of his dad. Otherwise, he couldn’t care less to recall.
Chaz only realized his eyes were closed when they snapped open at the feeling of movement. No hands were locking him down anymore, instead, one was on his waist and the other tugging at the collar of his shirt.
An itch to attack the shorter boy tingled in his brain. He didn’t yet, only slightly turning his head, as he released a murmur of confusion.
And then there were lips against his flesh, and his eyebrows knit together. He, hardly thinking, threw himself forward. His landing was anything but graceful, but the blond escaped. He pulled the material back over his shoulder and turned.
“What the fuck?”
“What?” Wow. Now he decides to speak. This is groundbreaking.
A very light warmth still settled on his skin, on his neck. Right over a line of bruises, where Stan was mouthing at him all sloppy. “What was that?” He questioned, gaze locked onto big, green eyes. He ignored the way it looked like they were glowing. Usually, it was nothing like that.
Chaz watched Stan carefully. Almost relished in the way he appeared to get smaller, wringing his hands and looking away. But the lack of response was pissing him off, so he stood up tall and dusted the dirt off his pants and stormed up close and personal. A rough hand and uneven, ragged nails curled into the brunet’s shirt, balling it up as he forced him off his ass.
And he hated the way Stan never looked scared. He was just a miserable dog, one that had been kicked onto the side of the road countless times. But it’s like he had it coming, and he knew it. It was fucking annoying how calm he was when he should be anything but.
“I just thought,” He seemed to fumble, fingers dangerously close to cupping over his own as he spoke. “Maybe-” Words tumbling from his lips fell into nothing. Chaz’s expression twisted in disgust.
Stan’s face was all pink and cold. In his eyes was simply nothing, and something in Chaz was yearning for that dumb, stupid, fucking smile. Where he got to see the big gap in his front teeth. It was a rare sight, and he didn’t particularly like it. It was ugly, and all he wanted to do was rip them out of his gums.
Quickly, he dropped Stan back down, looking away in awkward quiet.
“Let’s just go, I’m tired. And cold.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Sorry.”
Torn and worn blankets that barely covered his entire body were draped over him. Piercing amber eyes stared at a poster on his wall. He stole that one, almost got arrested for it.
He curled into his side, turning the other way. Now he faced the wall his bed was pressed up against, and he didn’t do anything to stop the hand that crept up his shoulder. He circled a finger against his skin, the state of exhaustion clearly making him delirious, as he desperately tried to remember Stan. The way his lips pressed into him so delicately, and yet somehow, now it burned.
It stung, like the tears threatening to fall from his eyes. Chaz bit his lip and buried his face into his pillow.
This sucked.