Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Wood. It was all I felt. I pushed up on the dry log that fell on my body, using all the strength I could muster. The sun was glaring, as it always did. There was no shade. Only dreadful weight pushing the oxygen out of me. Listen, I’m not strong in general. But this was insanely harder than I remembered pushing even a stupid piece of wood to be. I groaned into the air as I licked the blood from my split lip. Up in the sky, vultures glided in a perfect circle. More like a spiral, actually. They just kept coming closer, but when I blinked, they were farther. I guess I looked as dead as I felt.

My hands were covered in dirt and grime, sand, and blood. I coughed up dust. I needed to keep moving before they caught up to me. I took a deep breath and braced my hands on the log, shoving upwards. I found air hitting me, so I slid out and lurched upwards, staggering backwards. 

Looking around, I guess I had fallen asleep against a rock. I used part of a tree to cover myself, but my balance slipped, and the heavy log knocked me out. That was… pretty genuinely embarrassing.  I jerked my head towards the sun and let the sweat trickle down my forehead and drip off of my sharp, pointed nose. 

Memories flooded back. I finally made my run from the plain, white Battery City. The scarecrows wouldn’t give up this chase, so I needed to get further. I needed to make it to the zones. 

My mom and dad lived there, in the zones. Had my brother and me. I didn’t have a ton of recollection of it; all I remember is being happy. I was usually outside, kicking around a dusty black and white ball, singing under the sun until my sweat cooled and the sky darkened. Then we would eat dinner altogether. It wasn’t much. No, it was actually wildly scrappy. Cooked jerboas or jackrabbits didn’t provide a lot of meat in general; canned goods were usually stale by the time we opened them, and sweets were often scarce. But my mom managed to flavor up meals - she added insane amounts of paprika sometimes. I think that was her favorite spice. Or thyme. I used to watch her, pushing myself up to counter level, only to start sneezing rapidly with the dust and spices getting in my nose.

There was a night when my brother and I were woken up harshly, struggling against unfamiliar hands and listening to shouting through the walls. I was nine at the time, and he was seven. I had thrown myself over Kobra, protecting him the best I could, but I guess I never was all that good at protecting. They pried my long, cold fingers off of Kobra’s warm, comforting arm as I writhed and shouted against a man who might as well have been a wall. 

Dragging my feet through more sand, I swallowed, but it pained me to do so. My throat was drier than the very land I was walking on. I think I considered throwing myself onto one of those gorgeous, beautifully green cacti, just to feel something. But I continued, raising my hand to shield my eyes from the blinding sun, which I now realized I didn’t mind, after being deprived of it for so long.

We were shoved into a car and brought to the city. The plain, plain city. They told me Kobra was too big a distraction. I stayed until I was 17. I was so sick of it over the years. They made me a machine. If I died, at least I would die trying to go home. Home. I practically laughed at myself. What if the zones were just as bad as BLI? I often wondered. For all I knew, they could’ve changed severely over the years.

And Korse was the worst of it all. I could feel bile raise in my throat as I thought of him. His sick grin was implanted into my mind. His stupid, ugly, bald head that the artificial light shone off of. He terrified me speechless until I was old enough to learn to obey. It was easier that way, but my mind never agreed. Every time he told me to shut up, I had to bite my tongue to keep my words in. There were so, so many words I wanted to share with him.

I push my brown hair back out of my face. It was the only thing I was able to control in the city. It was the only thing worth fighting for, because my hair was the only thing distinguishing about me. It was about shoulder length, layered and butchered from a ton of cutting in my bathroom. They had always wanted to cut it real short. I didn’t want to look anything like Korse. 

My breath came in short, ragged gasps by the time I reached an outcrop. I collapsed into the shade of a boulder, my back scraping against its rough surface. For the first time in hours, the sun wasn’t directly on my face, and I felt the faintest bit of relief.

Just as I started to let my guard down, I heard it. It was the faint hum of an engine, deep in my chest, and I felt the vibrations. My heart lurched, adrenaline spiking through my veins. Fuckkkkkk. I shot up, my vigilant eyes scanning the horizon. A dust cloud in the distance. They were coming.

I cursed under my breath and scrambled to my feet, dust kicking up into my face. My ribs-no, my stomach- everything cramped up in pain. But there was no more time for rest. I needed to move now. I wasn’t going to let them drag me back. Not after everything I’d done to escape.

I pushed off the boulder, my legs shaking beneath me, but I forced myself to keep moving. The engine grew louder, and the dust cloud was closing in fast. My heart pounded in my chest. I had nowhere to hide, nowhere to run—not in this wasteland. Why the fuck was it so empty? 

The ground blurred beneath my feet as I stumbled forward, each step more agonizing than the last. That dumbass yellow star felt like it was burning straight through me, and my limbs were screaming for rest. I couldn’t stop, not now. Not with them so close. I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of dragging me back.

But my body had other ideas. My vision swam, dark spots dancing in front of my eyes. I swayed, nearly toppling over before I caught myself.

Not yet. I just needed to keep going. I wouldn’t let them see how weak I was.

The hum of the engine shifted, growing louder and closer, the unmistakable sound of a cruiser. My mind raced, desperation gripping me tightly. They’d caught up. I reached for the laser pistol at my belt, but I couldn’t get a grip on it.

The engine cut out with a sputtering roar. I spun around, teeth gritted in defiance. Two figures jumped out of the vehicle. They were dressed in bright, mismatched clothes, nothing like the white suits of BLI. Tacky, but interesting. But my brain was too fried up to think straight. All I saw was a blaring threat, like when the sirens in Battery City would scream, echoing for miles.

"Back off!" I hissed, though my voice cracked, and the words came out weak, almost pleading. I finally wrestled the gun free and aimed it, my arm trembling violently. In the city I was the top of my gun class-I guess it could finally come in handy.

The figures stopped in their tracks, looked at each other, and one of them raised their hands in the air in a mock surrender, stepping forward. His curly hair swayed in the wind under his helmet. "Hey, whoa, relax! We’re not here to hurt you, man," his voice called out. There was an almost playful edge to it, like this was all a game. That pissed me off even more.

I blinked, trying to focus. I wrinkled my nose and furrowed my eyebrows. Through the haze of heat and exhaustion, I made out the details. The guy farthest from me had messy, greasy black hair lying over his shoulders, his dark green vest hanging loosely over his frame. He had dark sunglasses. They didn’t really fit him, to be honest. The other one, taller, had curly hair sticking out from his helmet, a yellow bandana wrapped around his neck. These weren’t Dracs or BLI authority.

But my mind was too far gone to register that fully. "The fuck do you want?" I snarled, my legs barely holding me up. The pistol wavered in my grip. I didn’t trust them. I couldn’t trust anyone.

The guy in the sunglasses tilted his head, looking me over with a smirk. "You’re not gonna shoot us," he said, more amused than concerned. I’d punch him if I could. He glanced back at the taller one and gave a little shrug. "You look like you can barely hold that thing!” And he laughed, shrill and deep at the same time. 

His words hit me harder than I’d like to admit. My body was screaming at me to just drop, to collapse right there and let the sand swallow me up. I wasn’t going to make it much longer, but I wouldn’t let them know that.

I took a step backward, glaring at them. I was painfully aware of how my thin hands were shaking, how all I wanted to do was sleep.

The black haired one stepped forward anyway, lowering his hands. "You look like hell, man," he said, lighter this time, his eyes flicking over me with a weird mix of concern and amusement. "When’s the last time you ate something?"

"Shut up," I snapped, clenching the pistol tighter. I hadn’t eaten in days, maybe longer. In the city, food was limited per person, and Korse took half of my portions. I would kill for anything, destroya, I’d murder for even some fruit. 

The taller one with all that curly hair turned to share another look with the guy with sunglasses, then spoke up for the first time, his voice deep and steady. "We’re not with BLI. We’re Killjoys," He held his hands out to show he wasn’t armed, taking a slow step closer. "We can help you."

My vision blurred again, and I swayed on my feet, my legs finally giving out. I stumbled, barely managing to stay upright. 

They were treating me like a crazed animal.

"Fuck off," I spat, my throat dry, but even I knew I couldn’t fight them off much longer. I stepped backwards one more time. My knees buckled, and I fell to the ground, the gun slipping from my grasp and hitting the dirt beside me.

The one with black hair was at my side in an instant, crouching down with surprising gentleness for someone with such a stupid, fucking cocky attitude. "Relax, you’re not going anywhere in that condition," he said, his voice softer now, almost concerned. "C’mon, we’ll get you some food, get you back on your feet.”

I flinched away from his touch, glaring at him through my mostly green hazel eyes. He frowned and rolled his eyes, deciding to grab me anyway. I wanted to shove him away, to tell him to leave me alone, but my body was too weak to fight anymore. “Bitch,” I hissed. “Fucking- piece of shit-”

The last of my strength slipped away as my eyes rolled back, the world spinning into darkness.

-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^

Voices swirled around me.

“He’s lighter than I thought,” came a voice, sharp. It was impossible to miss his stupid accented tone, though this time it held something different. Something almost concerned? 

“Yeah, well, look at him,” The other’s lighter voice responded. That’s curly-q. “He’s lucky we found him when we did.”

I could feel the steady rhythm of the shorter one’s footsteps as he carried me. The movement made my stomach churn, but I forced myself to stay still. I wanted to writhe, just to make it harder. They, like, kidnapped me! But I wasn’t ready to face them yet. I didn’t want to seem even weaker than I already did. 

When I came to, the world was still a haze, but softer somehow, less harsh than before. The sun wasn’t burning my skin anymore, and for the first time in what felt like years, the air felt cool. A heavy weight pressed down on me, but it wasn’t suffocating like the log had been. This was different, more like a blanket.

I blinked, my vision coming back in pieces, my throat still raw and dry. Slowly, the shapes around me came into focus. The walls were metal, rusted in places but solid. It was a small space, cluttered with mismatched furniture, gas masks, and half-empty cans of spray paint. I wasn’t outside anymore.

I jerked upright, panic gripping my chest, but immediately regretted it as a sharp pain shot through my ribs. "Shit," I hissed, clutching my side and flopping back down.

"Easy, killer." A familiar voice drifted from across the room. The one with the black hair was sitting in a chair near the far wall, his legs propped up on a wooden table that was fashionably falling apart. He didn’t even look up from the magazine he was flipping through. "You’re gonna tear something if you keep moving like that."

My heart raced, but there was no strength left in me to act on it. The memories flooded back—running, the heat, the engine, the two of them. I wasn’t in the city anymore, but I wasn’t safe either.

I swallowed hard, my throat burning. "Where… where am I?" My voice came out as a rough croak.

A thin, scratchy blanket was draped over me, and the air smelled faintly of something metallic, mixed with gasoline. The walls were patched together with metal scraps and tarps, and the ceiling was low, with exposed beams crisscrossing overhead. The floor was rough concrete, and a few boxes were stacked in the corners. I was in some kind of shelter. And I wasn’t dead. That counted for something.

He finally glanced up from his magazine, tossing it onto the table with a lazy smirk. His hazel eyes caught mine. He surveyed me. I wrinkled my nose, but he continued.  "You’re at our place, in zone four. Congrats, you made it. Barely." He grabs a water bottle and tosses it to me. “I’m Ghoul, by the way. You’ll be needing that later.”

I fumbled with the cap of the water bottle, my fingers still shaky from exhaustion, internally rolling my eyes at him. The moment I got it open, I took a long, desperate gulp. I watched him warily as I let it slide down my throat. The water was lukewarm, but it was the best thing I’d tasted in days. I tried not to drink it all at once, worried I’d throw up. He was sort of pretty. His hair was around the same length as mine- maybe even longer. A bit darker.

I shifted, wincing at the soreness in my muscles. "Why couldn’t you just leave me out there?" I mumbled, wishing the vultures had just taken me. I didn’t know who these people were. Killjoys, sure, but that didn’t mean they weren’t dangerous in their own way.

Ghoul gave a small chuckle, leaning back in his chair. "Leave you? C’mon, what kind of people do you think we are?" He paused, then added with a grin, "Plus, you looked like you were about two seconds from becoming vulture food. Not really our style. You’re my style, though," He grinned, winking.

I raised my eyebrows in the silence. He was still sheepishly smiling, looking real proud of himself. “Really?” I huff, unimpressed with his flirting. 

Before he could respond, the door to the room creaked open, and the other dude walked in, carrying a plate of something that smelled suspiciously like food. His helmet was off now, revealing his wild curls, and he glanced over at me with a nod.

"Good, you’re awake," He said, setting the plate down on the table beside the bed. "You need to eat. You’ve been out for a while. I’m Jet."

I eyed the plate suspiciously. It wasn’t much—just a slice of stale bread and some kind of canned meat- no, it was beans. But the sight of it made my stomach twist with hunger. Still, I hesitated. “How long?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper now.

"A day, maybe a little more," Jet replied. "We tried to give you some water while you were out, but you’re in bad shape. If you don’t eat, you’re not gonna last long out here."

I stared at the food, my hands twitching with the urge to grab it and stuff it into my mouth. My pride, though, screamed at me to refuse. I didn’t want to owe them anything.

Ghoul must have noticed the conflict on my face because he sighed and stood up. I hate how he notices shit. I’m the one supposed to notice things. "We aren’t with BLI. Just eat. We don’t want you dying on our floor."

I glanced at the food, my stomach growling despite the tension I felt. I hated this—hated needing help, hated being this weak in front of strangers. But I didn’t have a choice. Not if I wanted to survive.

“Thank you,” I muttered, my voice barely audible.

Jet sat down across from me, watching as I gingerly reached for the food. I poked it, then sniffed it. His gaze was more patient than Ghoul’s, almost... understanding. It unsettled me. I narrowed my eyes at him. Why were both of them just staring? Creeps.

“Take your time,” Jet said. “We’re not going anywhere for a while.”

I forced myself to take a bite, the bland taste of canned beans filling my mouth. Internally, I praised it like it personally came and gave me a lifetime of happiness. It was the first real food I’d had in days. My face told a different tale- the same exactly blank expression i carried a moment before.

“So,” Ghoul said, leaning back against the wall with a grin. “What’s your story?”

I hesitated, staring down at the plate, trying to gather my thoughts. My story? I wasn’t sure if I even knew where to begin. The city. My brother. BLI. It all felt so distant and yet SO close, the memories still raw and jagged and burning. But I wasn’t ready to tell them everything. Not yet.

Instead, I mumbled, “I ran.” My voice came out hoarse as ever, and I could feel both Jet and Ghoul watching me, waiting for more. “From Battery City.”

Ghoul raised an eyebrow, looking intrigued. “City escapee, huh? That explains why you look like you just crawled out of a trash compactor.” He didn’t sound judgmental, more like he was trying to lighten the mood. “Did you run solo, or are there more of you?”

I shook my head, swallowing the bite I’d taken. “Just me,” I said, my eyes narrowing slightly. “No one else was dumb enough to try it.” I scoffed.

Jet frowned, leaning forward slightly. “How long were you in the city?”

“Too long,” I muttered, feeling the weight of it in my bones. “Since I was nine. They took my brother and I. Split us up. Haven’t seen him since.”

There was a beat of silence. “BLI doesn’t exactly let people walk out, especially not with their minds intact.” Jet said. 

I took another bite, chewing slowly, not tasting the food whatsoever. My eyes drifted to the rusted metal walls of their shelter, the smell of gasoline and dust filling the air. I’d finally made it out of the city, but I had no idea what came next. The Killjoys… they were supposed to be the enemies of BLI, but I didn’t know if I could trust them yet.

I glanced up at Jet, who was watching me with an unreadable expression. “They’ll come after me,” I muttered. I wanted to make it away as fast as possible.

Jet didn’t answer right away, exchanging a glance with Ghoul. “They don’t let people go that easily,” he confirmed, his tone cautious. “But in the zones, you’ve got a better chance. It’s dangerous, but BLI doesn’t have as much reach. Not yet, anyway.”

Ghoul nodded, his seemingly-permanent smirk slammed on his face. “Stick with us, and you’ll be fine. We’ve got enough firepower to keep the Dracs off your back for a while.”

I didn’t respond right away, my mind still spinning. Trusting them, staying here, felt like a really dumb risk, but I was too exhausted to think of alternatives. I glanced at my hands, still covered in dirt and grime, then back at the two Killjoys.

“How do I know you won’t jus’ turn me over?” I asked bluntly, my greenish-brown eyes narrowing as I looked between them. “BLI’s got a price on people like me. They pay well.”

Jet shook his head immediately, his expression hardening. “We don’t work for them. Never have, never will.”

Ghoul snorted, folding his arms behind his head as he leaned back against the wall. “Yeah, baby, trust me. If we wanted to cash in on a bounty, we wouldn’t be wasting time giving you bread and beans.”

Despite myself, I felt the corner of my mouth twitch. Ghoul’s stupid humor pissed me off- but I loved it.I let out a quiet breath, deciding to push my doubts aside for the moment. I didn’t have any better options.

“All right,” I muttered. “I’ll stay. For now.” 

Ghoul grinned, slapping the table. “Welcome to the chaos.”

Chapter Text

Ghoul had left at some point, his chair now empty by the table. The cushions were still indented from where he sat. I could hear muffled voices somewhere outside the shelter-Ghoul’s sharp tone, carrying a rough rasp, and Jet Star’s deeper voice responding steadily.

I shifted, trying to get comfortable again, wincing as my ribs protested. It was almost impossible to get any rest. The blanket covering me barely did anything to cushion the hard surface of the cot beneath me, and the air in the room had started to turn stale. I shifted over and over, and I got more and more pissed off.

Before long, the door creaked open again, and Ghoul stepped back inside, messing with his greasy hair. He gave me a look that was half cheery, half sympathetic.

“Well, look who’s finally waking up again,” he said, walking over and plopping down on the chair, propping his boots up on the edge of the bed. “You had a hell of a trip, huh?”

I groaned quietly, sitting up slowly, my muscles stiff and sore. I didn’t feel like talking to him again today. Yet I forced a small, easy smile. Polite. Like Korse always told me. It was so much easier just to endure what was to come. Small talk. “Feels like I got hit by a truck,” I muttered, rubbing at my temples.

Ghoul chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Nobody’ll hit you with a truck out here. Don’t worry, we won’t let you drop dead on us.” I could tell he was trying to put me at ease. I sighed and looked away. If I looked back up at him, I wasn’t sure whether to roll my eyes or thank him. Instead, I just took another sip from the water bottle he’d tossed me earlier, still watching him cautiously. 

“What about Jet?” I asked, scanning the room for any sign of him.

“Jet’s outside, messing with the engine. He’ll be in soon enough,” Ghoul said with a wave of his hand. He paused, eyes raking over me with that same playful, stupid… smirk. “Y’know, I gotta say- you aren’t lookin’ too bad, considering you’ve been through hell and back.”

I blinked, confused, my brow furrowing. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just saying…” Ghoul continued, leaning forward a little, with that little shoulder shrug. “You got this whole… scrappy, survivor thing going on. Kinda cute, honestly. Most people die by the time they make it outta the city, but you-” He whistled low, shaking his head. “You’ve made it.”

Heat flushed to my face, and I quickly looked away, not sure how to respond. Cute? I’d been covered in dust and grime for days, barely conscious, and here he was calling me cute? I didn’t know whether to be flattered or embarrassed. And had I really made it? At this point, no. No, I had not.

 “I’m a wreck,” I muttered under my breath, more to myself than to him, as I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

Ghoul laughed at that, the sound light and carefree, almost like he didn’t have a care in the world. “Well, we’re all wrecks out here, baby. Just gotta own it.”

The door creaked open again, and Jet stepped inside, wiping his hands on a mahogany-coloured rag. He glanced over at me, nodding in greeting before tossing the rag onto the table. “How’s he holdin’ up?” Jet asked, looking between me and Ghoul.

Ghoul gave an exaggerated shrug. “He’s doing fine, but I reckon he’s still sore. We need to get some meat on his bones.” He gave me a look.

I backfired with a glare, too tired to argue but annoyed nonetheless. “I’m right here, y’know.”

Jet chuckled softly, sitting down across from me. “Don’t mind Ghoul. He likes messin’ with people. If he didn’t think you could handle it, he wouldn’t be ribbin’ you so much.”

“Exactly,” Ghoul chimed in, tipping his chair back on two legs as he grinned at me. “Means I like you.” 

I wasn’t sure how to feel about that, but the exhaustion was catching up to me again, and I didn’t have the energy to dwell on it. I leaned back against the pillow, letting out a long sigh. I groaned, covering my face with my hands. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, you’re still here,” Ghoul shot back, his voice thick and lazy as ever. “Guess that means I’m doing something right.”

Jet opened his mouth, then paused. “Hey,” He said. “You never told us your name.” 

“Uh… Well, in Battery City, Gerard… Before, I think..” I paused, recalling all those nights with Kobra where we would play in the dust until the sun went down. I bit my lip. My voice came out more hoarse than I expected. “Party Poison. They called me Party Poison.”

Jet shook his head with a small smile, standing up and heading toward the door. “Alright, Poison, Ghoul, I’m gonna check on the perimeter. You two behave.” He cast Ghoul a very pointed look, implying that perhaps Ghoul was quite a troublemaker, before disappearing outside.

Ghoul leaned back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head. “So, what’s next for you, Poison?” He drawled my name, as if trying to savor it like those little lollipops that never lasted a second, but cost a fortune. “You still gonna stay?”

I didn’t have an answer for that, at least not one I was ready to say out loud. Trusting them was still hard, but for now, I didn’t have anywhere else to go. But on the other hand, they were nice. Sweet. I found myself wanting to become closer to them. Maybe it was just missing Kobra or needing someone to help me out in the desert. Either way, I narrowed my eyes at him and didn’t respond. I wish I did. But he just smiled nonetheless, grabbed a can of beans, and sat down, pulling out a rusty spoon and digging in. 

While the other boy shoved a ridiculous amount of brown globs into his mouth, I sat up and turned to the side, taking a deep breath and standing. This is surprisingly easy. I thought, happily, thinking my legs would give out.

Well, surprise! They did it nearly a second later. I stumbled, tripped, and caught myself. And in another flash of time, of course, Ghoul scooped me up from the waist and carried me over to my cot. “Fuck off!” I groaned, scowling at him. He smirked and just chuckled a little. That goddam chuckle. If you chuckle at me one more time, you damn fucking chuckler, I’m gonna give you some of these chuckles in the chuckling face-

Ghoul plopped me down again and sat across from me. “Already making the big break?” He pouted. “We’re not hospitable?” He frowned. “Do you need anything? I can get you food, another blanket, I can bring pillows from my quarters-” 

“Ghoul, it’s fine. Seriously.” I interrupted him. “I just want to move around. I hate this damn cot.”

“Well..” He seemed conflicted. “Let me…” He looked around wildly. “Ah! I’ll just help you get back on your feet!”

And before anything else could happen, he grabbed my cold hand in his own and pulled me upwards. My white uniform clothes from the city were torn and battered at this point, which at least made them more comfortable. Ghoul held my hand with a grip as if I were a diamond with nineteen legs, and I was trying to dash off. Which I wasn’t.. If you were wondering. I wasn’t… going to… run off or anything.

I felt my knees pop slightly, and my calves were sore.. But it felt good to stand again. I looked away from him, my face dusted somewhat red. 

Ghoul lit up. “I have an idea!”

“Oh no-”

“Let’s dance!” He said, grinning stupidly and whipping out a box of cassettes. I just stood still, not trusting myself to walk forward without taking another tumble. “We’ve got… uh… Talking Heads, Def Leppard, David Bowie, Thin Lizzy-”

“David Bowie.” I interrupted quickly. He looked at me funny. I looked away and scratched my neck bashfully. Had I made the wrong choice? It had been so long.. I always sang his songs in my head in the city. “Uh- sorry. I just.. I like him lots.” 

He smiled softly. His eyes sparkled. “Yeah… That’s cool.” He said. There was something warm in his tone. It irked me. He put it into the cassette player. I liked the fuzziness of the sound quality. It reminded me of back home.

The upbeat tempo of the song “Let’s Dance” ironically started to play through the machine. Ghoul grabbed my hand, swaying me around. I internally face-palmed. He CLEARLY did not know how to dance. 

His dumb antics made me smile. “Cmon,” I said. “I’ll teach you,” I directed his hands to my waist, whilst I wrapped my fingertips around his firm shoulders. “Like a box.” 

“A..” he tilted his head, almost like a puppy. “A box?” 

I scrunched my nose up. This would take a second. “Listen to the beat,” I said, my hazel eyes watching his own to take cues on his expression.

“Yeah, okay.” 

“Now move your feet- no, back, and I move forward. Then we move- like this, no- put your foot here. Yeah, now do the same thing, but turn. We’re making a box.” I guided him, a smile etching its way onto my face. “Gimme,” I said, pointing to the cassette.

I grinned, then cranked the volume. He turned back slowly, mischief in his eyes. “Well… let’s dance?” 

I nodded. We swayed to the beat. Ghoul’s warm hands were kept on my waist, holding me steady and upright. I guided him if he screwed up (which happened a lot.) We danced and laughed, and at the end of the song, Ghoul started speeding up and got faster, until I tripped, fell backwards, and landed on top of him.

I pushed myself off him like a damn cat who saw a cucumber. “Oh fuck- are you okay? Are- is- I’m sorry-“ I stammered over my words.

But there was his damn laugh ringing through once more. His laughing made me laugh. Ashes to Ashes started playing as we lay on the floor, panting and grinning and laughing like idiots.

“I’m glad you fell on me and not the floor,” Ghoul said, grinning. He ran a hand through his raven black hair. “Wouldn’t want to damage precious cargo!” He said, grinning sideways with all his teeth. 

I lay back down on the floor. I felt my ribs out through my skin, and once again, my stomach rumbled. I’d kill for one of Korse’s servants’ pies… they were so good and sweet and salty and delicious all in one…. No. Don’t think back to him.

“Do you have any food around here?”

Ghoul looked around the room. He turned back to me and sighed. “To be honest.. I don't think so. I think it’s time to take you to the diner and introduce you to the rest of us.”

—-----------------------------------------------------------------

We left the room that I was trapped in, and I viewed the rest of the place. It was nice- simple, plain. There were three rooms. Each small, with relatively large cots in each. Ghoul led me through the place, waving his arms wildly, to the point where I thought he’d knock over his pretentious vases. He was so eager to show me around that I found myself smiling fondly as he yipped about what the 15th black plate meant to him.

“Let me get you some new clothes!” He said. He ran into one of the rooms (The middle room, noted for later), and I could hear some clashing, clanging, and crashing. I stood awkwardly waiting for him. “Be right there!” He said. “Small..? Well… medium? Both.” He muttered, throwing fabric over his shoulder.

In a bundle of color, he rushed out to me, dropped beige pants and a red t-shirt, and looked at me expectantly. “Good?” He asked. He looked nervous for my approval. I nearly laughed. 

“Yeah, good,” I said, picking up the clothes from the ground. Looking at my tattered white clothes, it was pretty clear I needed new stuff. I shuffled into his room, shutting the door. He stood bashfully outside. I wrinkled my nose at the smell of sweat and dirt. Kind of authentic, but damn. That greaseball needed to wash up. I quickly pulled the pants on. They were tight, but fit well lengthwise. The t-shirt was plain, simple, and felt good on my skin after wearing harsh fabric for so long. I walked out of the room, nodding at Ghoul. “Thank you,” I said, letting a small smile peek out. 

“Of course!” He said, his face red. He immediately began yapping about different items in his home again. Some new knowledge was gained. 1. He owned a red cuckoo clock named Ruby that Jet found and refused to get rid of. 2. He loved to cook and owned dozens of different pans and pots. 3. Jet owned several explicit magazines that Ghoul consistently poked fun at him for.

“Ghoul?” I asked after about 30 minutes. 

He whipped around, smiling once again. “Yeah, Pois’?” 

Hmm. That’s new. “I'm still, like… starving,” I said, my hand on my hip, raising an eyebrow. 

Ghoul’s face turned bright pink. “OH SHIT! I forgot.” He scratched the base of his neck, offering me a sheepish smile.

I rolled my eyes, but a smile persisted, and he dragged me by the wrist out of the place. Did he realize that I was 3 seconds from falling over? Probably not. Instantly, a rush of hot air hit me. Humid, rather. I stopped dead in my tracks. This was outside. A little bit off, I could see a building and lots of stands around it. Away from Ghoul’s place, I could see other homes that seemed about the same size, or bigger. “It's close enough to walk. You need to get used to it anyway.” His sharp voice cut through my thoughts. 

I nodded, my eyebrows furrowed. I didn’t need to get used to it! I was functioning perfectly now. As we approached and the afternoon sun caused sweat to drip off my nose, and I watched as the people bustled down the streets. Tons of Killjoys- different colours of hair. Colorful outfits made of either denim or leather, and patches sewn onto everything available. 

As we walked through, I got some looks. I couldn’t tell if they were good, bad, or just judgmental. Ghoul excitedly led me past where everyone was, and we walked to the large building called “The Diner.” 

When we walked in, the jukebox was playing The Clash, and there were several groups of Killjoys already sitting down. Ghoul strutted up to the bar and leaned his arm over the edge of the counter. “Mags, would you get us two cans of Cola?”

An older-looking woman turned around and smiled. “Sure, hon. Who’s your date?” She asked casually, wiping a glass. 

Red was a shade that Ghoul seemed to often comply with. “Oh- um- he’s not my date, he’s- I’m showing him around..” He deflated as he tried to defend himself.

Who, I presumed, I should call ‘‘Mags’ barked out a laugh. “Sweetheart, that’s a date if I’ve ever seen one-” 

“Bye, Mags! Thanks!” Ghoul said swiftly, scooping up our sodas. I laughed out loud and walked forward to Mags as Ghoul attempted to drag me away. He pouted as he couldn’t move me.

I held my hand out to shake hers. “I’m Party Poison. It’s nice to meet you.” 

She nodded approvingly. “You too, Mr. Poison. I’m Retro Maggot, Mags or Maggie for short.” She smiled. “You look real familiar dear, have you been around before?” She squinted.

I shook my head. “No, ma’am. I’m new.” I said.

“Escapee,” Ghoul jutted in, “and Jet I took him in.” 

“My,” Mags gasped, leaning forward. “You seem to just belong here, honey. Made for the desert, huh? Make yourself at home. I have a feeling that you’re going to be a good one.” 

I smiled. My insides were shining. I’d made a good impression on folks who lived here, which was essentially what I was trying to do to fit myself in better. “Thanks, gorgeous,” I said, smiling at Mags. She was sweet, wrinkled, but feisty. 

This time, when Ghoul dragged me to a seat, I let him. 

“Why won’t you call me gorgeous?” Ghoul pouted, looking somewhat like a sad and tired dog. I laughed, adjusting myself on the sticky red leather cushions. 

“I’d say you’re more on the handsome side than gorgeous. Or like, hot, or sexy, or something.” I shrugged, looking at the roof as I thought of more synonyms. 

He perked up and grinned. “So does this mean we’re getting somewhere?”

I laughed. Ghoul was, honestly, really cute. I couldn’t deny that. But with how shamelessly he was flirting, I was beginning to question whether he was joking or not. Maybe it was just his personality. It was easier to joke it away, for now. “No, hun,” I replied, checking over the menu. I hadn’t heard of a lot of this, but I was intrigued. I took the easiest option and just went for a jackrabbit stew. I think I was fond of jackrabbits when I used to live with my parents.

The waiter came over to us on roller skates. He wore a white crop top with NOISE in big bold letters, with blue and white polka-dotted leggings. He grinned. His teeth were crooked, but in a way that seemed to fit him. “Ghoul, pleasure to see ya.” 

Ghoul politely smiled. “Show Pony. This is Party Poison, me an’ Jet call him Poison.” He explained, leaning back. Ghoul’s eyes tracked over me again. I wrinkled my nose at him and shot him a glare. Looking me up in public? Weirdo. But when I turned, Show Pony was doing the exact same. These damn desert people and their shamelessness. 

“What are we thinking for today, love?” Show Pony asked me, leaning closer. 

I swallowed, looking over the menu. “The jackrabbit stew, thanks.” The menu was overwhelmingly full of different options.

Pony’s expression changed as he turned to look at Ghoul. His eyebrows raised. “And for you, Ghoul?” He nearly spit out his name. 

“Pancakes. six-stack.” He said, folding his arms and returning the look. 

I watched the two of them, wondering how long their little cowboy match would keep happening, but Pony swiftly turned around and skated to the back kitchen. 

I turned to Ghoul. “Mind telling me what that was about?” I asked, cracking open my soda, I didn’t realize was sitting in front of me. I took a sip. The carbonation ran down my throat, fizzing. I immediately loved it. Maybe my reaction was more outward than I thought, because Ghoul laughed.

“Is it good?” He asked me. I smiled, excitement rising. 

“Yeah. Haven’t had something liquid besides water and bland broth in… a really long time.” I said, trying to control myself from lunging at the can and drinking it down like Korse would with tequila. I shook my head. “You gotta answer my question though,” 

The boy across from me sighed and settled forward. “Alright, listen.” He said lightly. “A few years back, we got in a bit of a scuffle. He didn’t want us to help anyone out who escaped from BL/I. I was really forward on helping those people, so… we got into a real harsh… beatdown…” he looked bashful. I burst out laughing.

“Beatdown? That’s the word you chose for fight?” I questioned, dubiously glancing at him. 

He frowned. “Well, I didn’t want to make it seem worse than it was-”

A steaming plate of hot pancakes stopped him from finishing his sentence. He looked down at them. “Pony, this is four-” 

“You’re lucky I’m serving you at all.” The polka-dotted boy snapped. That shut Ghoul up. 

My jackrabbit stew was set down in front of me. I smiled. “Thank you,” I said, tilting my head at Ghoul as Pony walked away. “He’s very hostile.”

“You’re telling me,” Ghoul said, rejectingly staring down at his four pancakes.

I snorted. Taking a beautiful silver spoon (that was probably stolen), I dipped it into the stew and watched as the thick brown liquid and rabbit meat filled the indent. I brought the hot spoon to my lips and gingerly tasted it. My pupils blew, and I smiled my small teeth widely and laughed. I took another bite. “Damn, this is great!” I said, shoving more in. 

“This is where everyone comes to eat.” Ghoul nodded, looking pleased. “You wanna try mine?”

Did I look desperate? Probably. Was I going to say no to a handsome boy offering me his food after saving me from certain death? No. 

“Yeah, please,” I say. He scraped off a corner of his pancake. I took his fork. I didn’t have my own. Maybe I was just used to being spoiled, but I was confused about why we didn’t each get our own set of silverware. Perhaps saving dishes, only giving spoons for spoon foods (soup), and forks for fork foods (pancakes).

I tried it and melted-the fluffiness of the damn pancake just perfectly sweet and textured. I groaned, sliding down my seat. “That’s so good,” I said, my face stuffed. It came out like, “Thas sho ghood.” 

But Ghoul excitedly understood and vocalized his agreement. “I know, right! I always try to recreate the recipes… I can never make it as good! Banshee is the best chef in the zones.”

“Is that who makes this?” I asked, shoving another spoonful of salty stew into my mouth. 

“They’re amazing,” Ghoul said admiringly. “80 years old and still making everything better than anyone else with more modern knowledge.”

I gasped. “80?! Fuck, this is good.” I said. “How old is Mags?”

“About 60. She’s strict as ever.” He said, leaning his head out of the booth. He slammed a 20-dollar bill down on the table. 

“Are you sure that’s enough?” I asked cautiously. 

“Yeah, more than. Don’t worry.” He said, following me to the front. 

As we began to walk out the door, I heard somebody call, “Poison, dear!” 

Ghoul and I whirled around. Mags was standing at the counter, waving us over. 

I walked forward, “Yeah?” I asked, tilting my head slowly. “Do you need anything?” I asked gently. 

She swatted my arm. “Enough being nice to me. Here,” She said, pulling out a jar about the size of a peanut butter jar, and a small box labeled ‘BLEACH.’ “This is from about 20 years ago. They no longer make this color. I want you to have it. I never used it. Limited edition, and my gal Metra and I got these together..” She trailed off, looking down. “And the bleach, to lighten up your hair. You’ll need a recognizable look out here.” She shoved the things toward me.

I gaped at her in shock. “Seriously, you don't have to do this-” 

“Bah,” She grumbled, pushing it into my arms. “Go have fun, kids.” She said, smirking.

Ghoul thanked her, and we finally left the diner. “How sweet is this!” I exclaimed. “You know.. I’ve always loved red. And blue. Like Bowie.” 

Ghoul shrugged, a lazy simper on his face. “I’ve always loved green. But I’m sure I’d love red if it were on you.” 

I laughed. The jar was heavy and cold in my hands. I passed the box of bleach to Ghoul so I could better examine the jar. Slowly turning it over, I read the color it was labeled as. “No way,” I gasped. 

“What?” Ghoul asked, crooning his neck to see. “Destroya..”

And the name on the label was PartyPoison. 

Chapter Text

The bleach didn’t feel too weird. 

As soon as Ghoul and I had arrived home last night, Ghoul crashed in his cot, and noticing all of Jet’s items inhabiting the room to the right of Ghouls, I kindly applied myself to staying in the left room.

Ghoul, hyper as a puppy, woke me up this morning by standing over me and shaking my shoulders. I furrowed my eyebrows and groaned. “Seriously?” I grumbled, glaring at him. He smiled bashfully. 

“I wanna do your hair.” He said, gesturing to the jar of red beside me. I felt the tenseness in my muscles dissolve at how eager he was.

I sighed. “Right. Where should I go?” I asked.

And that was how I ended up sitting on the edge of an extremely dirty bathtub with Ghoul stood behind me. Ghoul decided to make us eggs, which he quickly stirred up and brought over. I heard the sound of the rubber gloves slapping onto his hands. “I think I just mix this..” He mumbled, standing over a bowl. 

“If you fry my hair off I’m gonna shoot you,” I huffed, turning around cautiously to eye him and his bleach mix. 

Ghoul just smiled and tucked his hair back. “Yeah, yeah. I got this.” He began applying it, making sure it got every single piece of my hair. Except he didn’t touch my roots. 

As he worked, I quietly sang along to the Joy Division cassette he had picked out. It reminded me of Kobra, who’d always loved the voice of Ian Curtis. We used to camp out and wait for market travelers to come back with new cassettes. Usually, they were more expensive, but we managed to snag “Unknown Pleasures” for only a buck or two. Kobra hugged me the whole way back.

Back to the real world, I couldn’t believe I was letting someone I met only a few days ago dye my hair. Our quiet peace was broken with Ghoul proudly observing his bleach job and exclaiming, “I did it! Let’s leave it in for 15 minutes or something.”

After standing up, stretching, and cracking every bone in my body, I finally looked in the mirror. I look bald in tin foil. I thought to myself, gingerly reaching up and poking the silver. Ghoul stood behind me, proudly crossing his arms.

“It’s going to look so good.” He gushed. “I haven’t been this excited since last week, when Show Pony fell down face first into the ground in front of me.”

I couldn’t help but snicker. “You really do hate him.” I said, amuesed. 

He pouted. “I tried to like him.” He groaned. “He’s just- insufferable.” He looked down at the ground. 

I heard Jet finally waking up. Footsteps approached us, footsteps of someone who probably just wanted to use the bathroom but was met with the sight of misconstrued boxes and plates, and two people looking incredibly guilty. Jet only sighed and leaned against the doorway. “So, what’s going on?” He asked, with a face that seemed as if he’d only seen this a million times before.

“We wanted to-”

“-It was a gift to me-”

“Dying his hai-”

“Red.” 

Me and Ghoul looked at eachother, then at Jet, who stood disaprovingly. “Destroya, I should’ve known that you’d be a troublemaker too,” He spoke to me. 

Ghoul siddnely perked up, ignoring Jet and grinning. “I think we can take the foil out now and dye it red.”

And without another word, he began sliding the foil off my hair and threw it on the ground. Jet sighed. “Where’d you even get this stuff?” 

I stood up and looked in the mirror. My hair was.. pretty light. “Mags gave me it. Matches my name,” I explained. 

“Yeah, how cool is that? Such a weird coincidence.” Ghoul sighed, taking a glob of red hair dye with his gloves and beginning to spread it on. 

“Hey!” I protested. “I was barely ready,”

“Well, too slow.” Ghoul smirked, lathering the sticky solution over my head. “Jet, help me with this. Don’t just stand around and do nothing!” 

Jet stood still, looking disgusted. Finally he walked over with a groan and slipped on some gloves from beside the sink. “I’ll take this side and the back, you do this side and the front.” Jet said, starting to pull on my hair. 

Ghoul finished the side of my head remarkably fast, but to be fair, he was just shoving dye in. He shifted to stand in front of me, gently applying dye onto the front of my hair. 

I watched him carefully, then he caught my eyes and blushed. I laughed. “You get nervous real easy, for someone who’s flirting so much.” I said, my eyes still on his as he looked away.

“Aw, shut it.” He mumbled.

“Make me.” I said, staring him down, dead serious. Not so cocky now, huh, Ghoul? 

“I- what?” He sputtered, face red. I still stared him down. Tension grew terribly. 

Jet coughed, glaring at them. “Stop flirting and just work on the hair.”

I smiled at Ghoul who bashfully looked away, continuing to work. I felt Jet step away and then Ghoul took a look at his masterpiece. “Perfect,” he said, finally looking back and me and catching my eye.

We sort of just started at eachother for a moment, before I looked away and stood up. “How long do I wait before washing it out?” I asked. 

“Ummmm…” he turned to check the bottle. “Not sure… lets just wait like 30 minutes or something?” He said.

I sighed. “Ghoul if my hair fries-“

“I know, I know- you’ll shoot me.” I grinned. “Cmon, let’s get something else to eat while we wait.”

I couldn’t say no- I was getting much better on my feet, but I was still pretty thin and constantly hungry. We walked out to see Jet reading a magazine on the couch. 

I raised my eyebrows, “Hottest model-“

“That’s not mine!” Ray objected, standing up and throwing it to the ground. 

Me and ghoul glanced at each other, laughter boiling and about to overflow. We swallowed our amusement and Ghoul started to cook. 

“What’re you making?” I asked, tilting my head at the man who was digging around the cabinets like he had lost a 24k gold ring. 

“You’ll see,” he grinned, eyes sparkling. He took out a fairly rusty pan and poured some oil in. The stove cracked once before the small flame came up. Even the oven door seemed to be a step away from falling off its hinges. Alas, the stovetop worked fine, as far as I could tell. 

I leaned my hands on the rough countertop and watched him work. He was at ease, none of the tenseness that I had seen on him with Show Pony. Only fluid movements and a bright smile. He started to chop up a cactus, with a knife that seemed to have mysterious red stains on the metal. Jackrabbit stains, I assumed. 

He dumped a handful of cactus into the pan, then dumped some flakes into the pan.. and some powder.. and some salt and lots of pepper. Ghoul stirred it around and kept flipping it for probably 10 minutes, before distributing pieces into 3 metal cans and grabbing a couple utensils. 

He made his way over to us, sliding the meal across to us all. I was still soaking in hair dye, but I gratefully nodded and took a mismatched fork. I looked into the can. The cactus was charred, but smelled pretty good. 

Ghoul’s eyes caught mine. He nudged my can toward me, gentler then I’ve seen him. “Try it, I promise it’s good.”

“Agreed,” Jet confirmed, already shoveling it in. “Ghoul’s the second best chef in the zones!”

As ghoul argued for first place, I poked around the dish. It wouldn’t hurt me, and it would be rude not to try. But what would happen if I hated it, and needed to spit it out or something? Or if it uncontrollably spurted out of my ass? Or if I was allergic and I blew up like a goddam balloon of Korse’s face? 

Before I knew it, I had shoved the food into my mouth as if I hadn’t eaten in weeks. Within a few seconds, I felt the salty, crunchy, savory taste in my mouth explode. My eyes widened and I looked at Ghoul, half expecting the food to drop out of my mouth from shock. I swallowed, “you made this.. from like, what, scraps?” I asked, bewildered. I pushed more and more into my mouth, barely taking time to swallow until I looked like a chipmunk. 

He grinned, pleased with his work. “Yup,” he said, leaning back. He smugly smiled at Jet. “Number one cook in the desert.”

Jet glared at Ghoul again, but it was all lighthearted. We sat and ate from those dingy cans, but compared to what I had in the city.. this was like heaven on rusty metal. 

“Thanks, a lot.” I said, finishing the charred scraps at the bottom. “This was really good.” I smiled wide across my face.

Ghoul gazed at me, and I did the same for a solid moment. Then he snapped himself upwards and said, “Shit! We gotta wash the dye out!”

He grabbed my wrist and pulled me back to the bathroom, shoving my head under the nozzle and turning on freezing water. This could be counted as assault. I flinched and yelped, “Dude- the fuck?” 

“Aw, my bad dude.” He said, genuinely apologetic. I heard squeaking above and the water got a bit warmer. “We don’t have much hot water. We can use it, though.” 

I faltered. “No. Go back to cold.” I wanted them to save their water. I was just some city prick who had that at all times where I lived. They didn’t. They deserved it.

“Indecisive.. sexy man,” he said, laughing. I felt his nails scratching my scalp. It felt good, like if spiders had razor legs and itched something that you could never reach. He seemed unaware of my inner turmoil, thankfully. 

He yanked my hair up, and the wet hair flung into my face. I pursed my lips, using my palm to flatten down my hair. Water dripped out. 

Much gentler, he started to dry off my hair with a really sandy, ripped up towel. I wasn’t complaining- it was soft from being torn up. 

“You’re very easy to uh… like work with.” He said, trying to make small talk. 

I grinned. “Thanks. You’re very… erm. A good worker?” 

He chuckled under his breath and rested the towel over my shoulders, letting the red blood-like water dye the shredded fabric. 

“Let it air dry, then it’ll be perfect.” He said. 

I stood up and looked in the mirror. 

Red. Bright. Passionate. Bold.

That was everything I had wanted- needed in my life. To express myself. Tears unwillingly came to my eyes as I observed the bright color. 

Ghoul jumped forward. “Do you not like it?” He asked worriedly, looking like he was trying not to cry himself.

I simply walked forward and latched myself onto him, burying myself in the tightest hug I think I’ve ever experienced. He was nothing like the rough scouts from BLI who had grabbed me as a kid. He was softer, warmth radiated off his body, and he pulled me in. He accepted the dripping red, and simply held me and swayed lightly. 

“I love it.” I mumble into his shirt, feeling tears slide down. “It’s so…”

“You.” Ghoul finished. “Oh, Party Poison.” He said, pulling away and leaning close. He wiped the tears off my face. I blushed and looked away, but he pulled me closer. “It’s great. You’re one of us now.” He said. And I couldn’t find the heart to argue.

Because deep down, I knew I had found exactly where I wanted to be.

Chapter Text

When I woke up the next day, I was soaked with sweat, my newly dyed hair staining my neck. I groaned and stood up, the humid air making the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I swung open the door like an angry drunk and grumbled about wanting coffee, before banging on Ghoul’s door.

“Stawp.” I heard him groan, his morning voice dry and croaky. I blushed and shook my head, turning away. 

Next, I rapped on Jet’s door. I heard faint mumbling, so I pressed my ear to the door. “Just 5 more minutes…” He trailed off.

I sighed and face-palmed. I was in a dirty white shirt of Ghoul’s and the same pants I had worn for days now. It was time for me to take a little shopping spree. I grabbed a dull pencil and began scribbling down where I was going, before booking it to the door, nearly falling whilst I stumbled to get my (ghoul’s old) boots on. 

I looked… presentable enough. Snagging a pair of sunglasses on my way out, I tripped out of the home and stabilized myself before walking. The sun still bothered me- but it was starting to get better. Less… burning. More sharp, toned. Bright.

When I arrived at the shops which we had passed briefly through on our way to the diner that one night, I felt insanely overwhelmed. There was chatter, yelling, chirping, screaming, and quite a few rodents scittering around. I made my way over to the shade of some tents, breathing in the deep smell of different jellies. I had to find clothes- shoes, maybe. I could take Ghoul back later and make him pay for me, but I felt pretty bad doing that. I decided to browse, for now.

I traveled under different coloured fabrics as if I were a superhero under the cloak of night, carefully checking out what each vendor had to offer. I stopped at a small booth with sleek, shiny leather boots. Beautifully crafted- deep burgundy, or raven with hints of yellow. Faded out tags meant vintage- but these were still great quality. 

I was staring down a pink, knee-length pair of boots when the vendor looked up at me. He looked me up and down. I furrowed my eyebrows, uncomfortable, but relaxed as he said, “You’re the one ol’ Ghoulie’s been talkin’ bout?”

I swallowed, ny spit coaxing my dry throat to talk. I probably should’ve drunk some water. I’d been dehydrated for days on end now. “I think? Probably. He seems a bit lonely, it’s either gotta be me or Jet,” I said casually, leaning my hands on the table and flashing a grin. 

The guy laughed, deep, then stood up. I realized he was wearing bright red, skin-tight leather boots with a heel. They went all the way up his legs to his short shorts. Talk about interesting. His dark brown hair was combed over, and his eyes reached mine. “I’m Preach Static. And you’re Party Poison, right?”

Heat crawled up my neck. “Yeah. Nice to meet you.” I said, quickly holding out my hand for him to shake. His sweaty hands gripped mine as he shook with excessive force and a bright, almost commercial smile. “You’re pretty skinny, no? Tell Ghoul to be gentle. Or not. Whatever gets you to scream louder.”

Oh great. Now I was overheating like a damn toaster. “What the fuck-?”

He put one slimy, long finger to my lips. “Shhhhhhhhhhh. Let me live in the fantasy, bro.” He leaned back. I wiped my face as he plopped down on his chair. “It’s not every day I get front row seats to the world’s slowest porno.” 

“Alright, glitter-face,” I hissed. “Get your perverted mind a therapist that’ll tell it to have inside thoughts, and stay the hell away from me.” 

He only smirked and shrugged. That damn ragebaiter.

But then I heard it. A voice, sharp, fast, fighting with a nearby vendor over the price of some busted cassette player. “You’re charging me 30 dollars for this garbage? What, did you smuggle it right outta battery city?” 

I whipped my head around.

She was small, flame-haired, and had a grin like she had just dared the world to birth her. Her jacket was worn and covered in scorch marks and glitter, her Converse ratty and torn. She slammed the cassette player down on the table, the trader grumbling in reply. 

Not being able to help my curious intuition, I stepped closer. “You gonna light the whole place up, or just melt that guy with your yelling?” I asked, raising an eyebrow with an amused smile. My voice was much softer than it had been with Preach Static. 

The orange-haired girl looked me up and down. “Depends. You here to get burned too?”

“Only if it’s worth it.” 

Her eyes lit up, and something clicked. Her eyes darted from every part of my face to carefully observing my hair. She gasped loudly. “Your hair. That’s… extremely rare. If I’m not mistaken..” She leaned close to me, standing on her tiptoes and sniffing my hair. I wrinkled my nose.

“What are you-”

“Party Poison. That’s insane.” Her eyes narrowed. “Where did you get that dye?” 

“Uh, Mags gave it to me-” 

“Why?” She asked, sharp. 

“Erm.” I stepped backwards. “I’m named Party Poison, she got all sappy and said I should take it.. Is that... wrong?”  I asked, genuinely worried she was going to hurt me, considering the way she leaned in extremly close and her hands twitched as if she wanted to strangle me.

“No… just…” She grabbed my hand and pulled me into an alleyway. “They stopped producing those a very long time ago. As far as we’re concerned, the only two people who’ve had them were Crimson Widow and Retro Maggot. Crimson died a few years ago in a motorbike crash against some Dracs, and nobody found her jar. And Mags just… gave you her bottle?”

I scratched the back of my neck. “If I say yeah, are you gonna interrogate me further?”

She looked at me funny again. “I like you. So, your name is Party Poison, yeah? That’s pretty cool.” 

“Yeah… and you are? And why are you so knowledgeable about hair dye?” I asked, following her as she strutted out of the alley.

“I’m Torch Killer. And, my mom runs a local hair-dyeing spot nearby.. We get good bank, just look around.”

And I did. So many Killjoys had bright coloured hair. “They all go to you?”

She nodded. “My mom’s nana’s nana’s nana made hair dyes back then, and just passed it on to further generations. We just got better, and better I guess.” She said, leaning over the side of a shop. I watched her smile at a man, handing him two quarters for two lollipops. She passed the red one to me. I popped it in my mouth, expecting it to be bland. But it tasted sweet and fruity, tangy. 

Her eyes widened at her own. “Orange creamsicle.” She melted, licking her lips. “C’mon, let’s chat at my place!”

I knew I probably shouldn’t have, but I nodded. Ghoul would kill me, I knew it. Just running off with a stranger? I was fucking dumb… but also intrigued. She pulled me for a while, until we got out of the mess of vendors and started walking towards a trailer in the distance, in a line of other trailers. I wondered how she was able to tell her own apart, until we got closer.

There was a huge Phoenix on the side, orange and black, reminding me of her hair. It had its wings wide and it was set on fire, striped from the tail to the tip of its beak. “That’s breathtaking,” I said, as we approached. 

She smiled, red lipstick staining a few of her teeth. “Thanks. A family mural.” She said. We walked inside. 

“Dumbass!” She screamed, her foot tapping the ground. I furrowed my brows. Did she stub her toe? But a little dog came skimpering around the corner, wagging its stub. “Party, meet Dumbass.”

I burst out laughing before crouching down and giving it some head pats. “Torchy, you named your fucking dog Dumbass?”

A giggle rang out in my left ear as I pet the dog. “What can I say? We’re a family of spirit.” She shrugged, pushing back her bright hair. I expected us to go hang out at the table or something, maybe on her cot, but instead, she tugged me over to a ladder and started crawling up. She wrapped her knees around a bar and turned the latch until she heard a loud POP , and then pushed it up. Without looking back at me, she climbed through. 

Her face poked through as I stood at the base of the ladder. She held out a hand, which I gratefully took as I pulled myself up onto the roof after her. The sun was just beginning to set. I didn’t realize how long I’d been out. I frowned. “I think Ghoul’s probably worried by now-”

“Wait.” She interrupted me. “Ghoul– like Fun Ghoul?” She barked out a laugh.

I felt self-conscious for a second. “Did he do something?” I asked, worried. 

“Nah,” She said, shaking her head quickly. “Don’t worry. We were in the same classes.”

“You take classes in the zones?” I asked, tilting my head to the side. “Only from when we’re nine to fourteen.” She said. “I know, it's weird. But nobody has enough time to teach kids for free, and nobody has enough money to pay for their kids to go.” 

I frowned. “Yeah. That’s… terrible.” 

“Did you grow up not around here, or…?” She asked, pulling out a box of Marlboros from her pocket. She offered me one. I hesitantly took it. I’d never smoked before, never really thinking about it. There were no nicotine products in Battery City. Hayley didn’t blink an eye, putting one in her mouth, pulling out a lighter, and lighting hers up. 

I took the lighter from her, and after a couple of tries of sparking the lighter, the flame popped up. I rested the stick easily in between my fingers, just like she did. She gave me a cautionary side eye whilst watching me struggle. I lit the end, and took a deep breath. 

I thought it’d be a lot worse. I coughed for a second, but took the cig out of my mouth and breathed out. It felt… pretty good. I cleared my throat, watching the smoke from her mouth trail up. “Yeah- I mean, no. I was born here, but uh.. Taken by BLI when I was younger.”

Her eyes widened. “You were one of those kids who were taken! Dude, they took like 20 little kids. My mam hid me for, like, weeks after that. Everyone was so scared.” 

I swallowed hard. “So.. more were taken than just me and my brother,” I concluded with a sigh, taking another drag. I let the smoke fill my lungs, like a less healthy balloon. I breathed out, feeling relief for the first time in a while. 

Solemnly, she nodded. “So how do ya know Ghoul anyway?” She asked, leaning back. 

“He and Jet found me half dead in the desert, barely a week ago,” I said, feeling my face get red. It was rather embarrassing to explain. But luckily, she didn’t seem to care about that too much.

“How old are ya, Pois?” She asked, finally lying on her back and looking up to the sky.

I joined her. “That’s random. I’m seventeen. Why..?” I asked, slightly nervous. 

She breathed out a sigh of relief. “Thank the lord. Ghoul’s eighteen. Not bad.” 

I groaned. “Why does everyone think we’re gonna be together or something? You haven’t even met me until today!” 

I could practically feel her smirk coming off of her. “Dude.. I’m a major lesbian, but you’re cute. I’m just stating that. Ghoul, well.. He’s made it clear he likes the gorgeous ones. Anyone who knows him would know he’d be looking for some pretty thing like you.” 

I took a drag, deep in thought. “I thought the flirting was just how he acted,” I admitted. 

She pursed her lips. “No. I’d expect him to be a flirt, but… He’s actually really sweet, and I’ve never seen him trying to get with anyone before. He just talks about wanting a partner. All the time.” 

Our hair was practically beside each other. Every time she brought her cigarette down to take another drag, I felt the warmth in the air. “I’m glad I met you,” I said, changing the subject. It was too much for me to unpack. 

She softened. “Yeah, me too. It may not seem like it, but I don’t have any friends. It’s always just been me and my family, and friendliness among classmates. You’re.. New. And cool, at that.” 

I smiled. “Thanks, that’s… good to know?”

She giggled, flipping over onto her stomach. I felt like a parrot at this point, considering how much I mimicked her movements. “You got small teeth. Probably makes you a good kisser.” She shrugged.

My face burned. “Why does everyone say stuff like this about me?” I groaned, dramatically letting my head fall. The sun was moving lower and lower. 

Neither of us said much after that. The wind shifted dust below the trailer, and we leaned our heads over to watch it. The silence wasn’t awkward. It was probably the most comfortable silence I’d ever experienced. 

“Shit,” I said, as I smoked most of the cigarette. Torch grabbed it and put it out against her palm, then did the same for her own. I gaped, but knew to question later. I continued, “If I’m not back soon, Ghoul’s gonna think I got vaporized, or joined a cult.”

Torch raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“And he’ll…. Cook everything in the house. And then eat everything.”

She smiled. “Go. Your boy’s waiting for you.”

I rolled my eyes and laughed, waving and climbing down the ladder. I exited from her door and turned around. She still sat on the top of the trailer, her sharp eyes watching me. Our coloured hair was blowing in sync.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I opened the door, slowly walking in.

Ghoul was on the couch with his feet up and a busted magazine in his lap, pretending to read. It was upside down. He didn’t look up right away when the door cracked open, but his fingers stopped flipping through the pages. His fingers idly folded the corners of the pages. He didn’t say anything right away. I stood there, waiting, wanting, needing just something. He should’ve yelled at me.

Instead, without looking, “You good?”

It was quiet. Just enough weight behind it to say what he wouldn’t.

He looked up at me, his eyes rimmed red.  A part of me shattered at the sight. 

“I was worried.” He mumbled, stepping closer to me. The holes in his socks were cute. He latched himself onto my waist. “Don’t scare me like that.” 

I rested my head on his shoulder. He was shorter than me, so it just worked out.

Ghoul let go slowly, like he didn’t want to. Then he cleared his throat and turned, stalking off toward the small kitchen like he hadn’t just fallen apart at my waist. 

“Hope you’re hungry,” He called. “I made that cactus stuff you like, spiced it a little differently. Might be cold,” he said, setting down a tin. A smile cracked out at the gesture.

I sat down and watched him move around. He glanced over his shoulder. “So? Big adventure today? Find some shiny new sand rat to replace me?” His words hit me.

I blinked. “What?”

Ghoul just shrugged and poked the pan a little too hard. “You were gone the whole day. Thought maybe you got swept off your feet by some rugged mystery trader with nicer boots and no annoying habits.” He practically spat.

I took a hesitant bite out of his food. What if he poisoned me? “I met someone named Torch.”

At that, his shoulders stiffened. “Torch? The girl with the phoenix on her trailer? The hair dye girl?”

“She’s cool,” I said, not being able to resist taking another piece of the cooked cactus.

“Oh, she’s cool ,” He mimicked, shoving the pan off the burner. “Well, maybe next time you can stay over there and let her burn the beans.”

I bit back a smile, coming to a realization. “You’re jealous.”

His face turned red. “I’m- I’m not jealous! I’m annoyed. Entirely different.” 

He shoved a cracked bowl towards me, half-full of whatever glorious desert-spiced shit he made. It smelled amazing.

“I’m not competing with some chick named after a flashlight,” He muttered, folding his arms. He looked like a sad dog. 

I took a bite. “You don’t have to,” I said calmly. “Why does it matter to you a

He didn’t say anything, just watched me chew like he wanted to throw the pan at me and kiss mea the same time.

His mouth opened like he was gonna say something sharp again, but then he bit his cheek and sighed. “I’m sorry.” He said quietly. “I know you’re not mine. You can hangout with whoever the fuck you want.”

I looked up from my bowl, surprised. “What?” 

“Yeah. I just get.. I don't know. Weird, when you’re gone. Yknow- mentally planning your funeral.” 

“Hot.” I deadpanned.

Ghoul snorted. “What’s hot about me right now?”

I swallowed. “Those socks with the holes in them? Super hot.” 

He grinned, cocky, but I could tell he was flustered by the way he gripped the side of his jean. “You noticed that?”

“Hard not to, you clung onto me like a tick.”

He ruffled his hair like he could hide the growing blush. “Could’ve let go. You didn’t.” 

I shrugged, looking down at my food, then flicking my eyes up to him. “Didn’t want to.”

There was a beat of silence. Different than before, this one was warm.

“Eat up, it’s probably the best thing I’ve ever made, and I will take it personally if you don't finish it all.” 

“Yes, chef,” I said, saluting with my spoon. I accidentally got corn on my forehead.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.” He huffed, cleaning it off with his thumb. 

I grinned, mouth full. “You’re lucky I’m hungry.” 

Ghoul raised an eyebrow. “So… you’re saying you wouldn’t put up with me if you weren’t starving?” He asked, dejected.

“I’m saying you might be a bit less-tolerable without food bribery.” 

He mock-gasped, holding his chest where his heart was. I wanted to kiss him. “Rude. After everything I do for you!”

I giggled. “Like… burning water, and crying over spices?”

He laughed as well, sitting across from me and leaning close. Not uncomfortable. Just close. It really gave me another chance to observe him- the little mole right beside his ear, the way his lips curled up into a natural smirk. He grabbed two chipped mugs and started to pour water from the canister, watching me closely again. “So, Torch is cool?”

I squinted at him. “Yeah. She’s funny. Sort of loud.”

“So you do like loud?” 

I stopped eating and looked at him again, disappointed. I knew he was jealous, but I didn’t want to out her, not knowing if she was outed or not. He caught my gaze and looked down bashfully.

“I know. Sorry! I can’t stop thinking about it.” 

I sighed, finishing up my food. “Listen, Ghoulie, it’s not what you’re thinking. But me and Torch- we’re friends now, whether you like it or not. And also, I’m gonna try to get a job to pitch in soon.” 

He nodded. “Yeah. That’s good. Y’know, it wouldn’t be bad if you just stayed here all day… every day. Jet and I only have to patrol for a couple hours a day.” He said, a hopeful look in his eyes.

I laughed, my lungs feeling empty without the smoke from earlier. “In your dreams, dork.”

“You’re literally the dork!” He sputtered.

“And?”

I retreated away from the kitchen, towards my assigned bedroom. He looked at me with those stupid puppy eyes. And suddenly, he was right in front of me. My hazel eyes caught his. His warm-not slimy-hand reached up to my hair and tucked my hair behind my ears. 

“So I can see your eyes,” he said, hesitating for a long second, before pulling away. But I wouldn’t let him get off that easy. I didn’t know if I should kiss him, hit him, or break his bones, so I just pulled him into a tight hug. 

“Sweet dreams, Ghoulie.” 

Chapter Text

“You don’t meet our qualifications.”

I blinked, standing in front of the large building. It was a bit off where Torch’s trailer was. Needlepoint West was the name. It was the hospital… or, it tried to be. 

I was about to open my mouth, when I got interrupted. “However, we can hire you as a searcher.” 

I let my arms rest on the rough wood of the table, feeling shards dig into my skin. “What does a searcher do?” I asked, exasperated. 

Cinder Stump, or Dr. Stump smiled sympathetically at me. “Well, you go out into the desert, collect specific desert plants-“

“How much does it pay?”

He cleared his throat, his mouth a tight line.“About four dollars an hour.” 

“Deal.” I sighed, resting my bright hair in my hands. My fingers were dry and cracked, the exact same feeling as my scalp, which was red like blood from the dye. After searching relentlessly, this was the best-paying job that would work with me. I tried Preach Static’s boot stand, but after a singular conversation, I spared my mental health and tried out trailer cleaning.. with my recent health, it didn’t quite work out as well as I thought. 

Dr. Stump was a kind, slightly pudgy guy, with an odd obsession with fedora hats. His hair was thin, short, and light, unlike my longer red mess. He didn’t charge too much, and worked to help out people with sicknesses. I knew he was only paying so little because he couldn’t afford to pay me more.

Ghoul wouldn’t be back for a few more hours, so I found it in me to retrace my steps to Torch’s house… It was hard to miss. I trudged up to the front door, knocked three times fast and one time long and drawn out. 

I heard a bark, a shuffle, and finally, the turn of a key. Torch’s bright orange hair caught my eye once again as she whipped open the door.

“Pois!” She screeched, a delighted grin bestowed on her face. She jumped off and tackled me to the ground, hugging me. I coughed sand out of my lungs, alas, a smile mirroring hers was plastered onto me.

“Hey Torch,” I groaned, my voice hoarse from her attack. “One day no see.” 

She stood up, peered down at me, and then stuck out her hand. I grabbed on, and she pulled me up. “Har, har. Missed you, fucker.” 

We went to the town, opting out of paying for the diner and deciding to get quick fried food from a stand. I squinted at the menu. Lizard skewers… vulture legs… vulture jerky…

“Can I get the dust potatoes?” Torch asked. 

I quickly spoke up, “Can I get the same?”

The guy nodded, beginning to cook. It didn’t take too long- we each got passed a can with sphere potatoes, black as could be. Torch quickly handed him a folded up 5$.

As we walked away, I turned to Torch, furrowing my eyebrows. “Um… what exactly are these?”

She looked at me like I grew four legs and had dicks for eyes. “Dust taties! They’re cooked in charcoal.. you’ve really never had these?” 

I shook my head, watching her grab one between her index and her thumb, and plopping it into her mouth before chewing. I decided to do the same.

At first, it was relatively bitter. The charcoal dust felt dry and un-tasteful on my tounge. I felt my throat denying it, but then I chewed the potatoe, which balanced it out. It was creamy, salty.. good. I snacked down on another, chewing as Torch talked. 

“-and there’s all these different customers that my mam has! Like, Warp Stripes. He seems so cool, but he’s so mysterious! Even in school, he was so… I don’t know. Always wore black and white striped makeup down from his face.. an image to his name, I guess? And then there’s Cherub Wrath… he’s good friends with my mom, but he’s bald, so he mostly just hangs around.” 

I nodded along. Suddenly, Torch stopped. Naturally, I did too. “What’s up-“

She stepped on my shoe. “Yowch!” I huffed under my breath. 

I followed her gaze… she had her eyes on a girl with long blonde hair, dark but smudged eyeshadow, who held a skateboard and wore these baggy skater jeans.

“Who is that?” I whispered through the side of my mouth.

“Sk8 Bite.” She whispered back, pulling me aside. 

Her cheeks were red and flushed, and she refused to meet my gaze. My eyes widened with realization, my eyebrows shot up,.and a grin spread across my face. “Ooooo… someone’s got a crush!” I teased. 

“Shut up!” She growled, grabbing my face and pulling me into a chokehold. I chuckled, putting my hands up in mock surrender. 

When we peeked back out, the supposed Sk8 Bite was gone. I wiggled my eyebrows at Torch, who made an avid punching motion with her fists. We strolled past the man’s stall where we bought food, and handed back our cans.

“He’s always really thankful when I return them. Most people just take em’ away.” She explained, nodding in salute to the man.

I sighed, sitting down on the sand beside her in a batch of shade. “I’’m glad you do that then.” I glanced at my arms, my biceps weak and flail. “I need to get stronger,” I admitted, stretching my legs out. 

She shook her head and let out all the air from her lungs. “Honestly, me too. We can maybe try together?” 

“Yeah. How?”

“Maybe every night we just… exersise.” I said, kicking a stray tin. My eyes widened, gears tunring in my head. “We can make sand weights!” 

Torch jumped up, “FUCK YEAH!” She nearly screamed. “And then, we get so strong and I can even impress Sk8- I mean, we could be really strong and beat up a bunch of draculoids.” 

Amused, I raised my eyebrows, but I had already embarrassed her enough so I didn’t say a word. I hesitated, then spoke. “I feel sort of shitty.. I sit in Ghoul and Jet’s home, eat their food, and I don’t do anything. I’ll get some money from being a searcher, but I want to maybe.. Just be a bit more.. Worth it.” 

Torch paused, her chapped lips pursed deep in thought. “I get it. I just hope you know that I’m so glad you’re here. So, if they kick you out, come to me.”

I laughed, leaning back. The warm sand made a perfect cushion for my back. “I’d be too ashamed. I couldn’t homehop after something like being kicked out.” 

“Sure you could,” Torch grinned. “So many folks do. See her? That’s Varsity.” Her long finger pointed farway, where a head of golden hair was observing a stand of jewlery. “Got kicked out a long while back. According to my mom, they used to call her Celebrity Skin. She was always somewhat difficult to them, and, well, crazy. But I sort of admire her. She’s wicked awesome.”

“She sounds interesting.” I said, watching the woman stroll off, before turning to Torch. “How about we meet everyday an hour before sunset?”

“And when the sun sets, we go home.” She finished, grabbing his hand. “Let’s go.” She held onto my hand, pulling me around.

For 30 full minutes, we scoured around, seraching for empty cans laying about. As Torch said to me earlier, most didn’t care about returning them, and instead fancied to throw them about. We managed to get a wild amount, some larger and some tiny. Torch got over half, and I ended up only finding a few. I was too entranced by everything else. Her nails scraped on every can we picked up, and I cringed at the noise. She only laughed her stupid, oddly comforting laugh, and did it even more often to piss me off. Atleast, until I tried to run off, to which she tackled me. 

After our long spree of can hunting, we ended up beside the diner. Rough bricks, held together by cracking cement, all created this…I trailed my finger along the concrete, watching Torch huff and plop down next to the dumpster. There was never anybody behind the building, surprisngly. Everyone was so open with smoking, that they didn’t need a designated area. It was just the whole desert. So there was no need to sit with the garbage.

We sat with our pile of cans, criss crossed on the sand. Suddenly, I felt a wave of grit hit me. “Hey!” I scowled, trying to keep my eyes open, but failing. All the sand that Torch was throwing onto me was going to drown me. I stood up and dusted it off the best I could. “Not cool.” I grumbled.

She giggled and pulled out a cigarette and a match, then struck the match on the inside of her jacket. She lit it, then stomped the flame out in the sand. I loved the smell. It was warm, smoky, and felt like home, if home had a smell. I took the cig from her without thinking, without caring. This time, the drag was easier than before. No coughing. It felt smooth against my lungs. 

We filled cans and jars with sand, creating makeshift weights for our… makeshift gym. After beads of sweat began dripping down our skin from hours in the hot sun, and my head felt light and airy, we decided it was time for a break. Torch shoved the dumpster to the side and gripped the black, metal ladder. She held her hand out, and I felt deja vu towards her trailer. I climbed up after her, using my leg to hoist myself onto the roof. 

She put her hands on the sides of her waist. “I always wanted to bring somebody out here, but I never had anyone to bring,” She admitted, sitting down on the edge of the building, letting her legs swing over.

We were right beside the diner sign. One simple shove, I’d hit my head and bleed out. I prayed that Torch was really who I knew her as… and tilting my head, I watched her orange hair catching the setting sun, moving with the light breeze like the tumbleweeds I had started to familiarize myself with.

“So,” The girl said, breaking the silent moment. “Tell me about him. Ghoul.” 

I tensed, not knowing what I was experiencing with Ghoul myself. “Fine, only if you tell me about Sk8 Bite.” 

Her face went red, but she nodded. “You go first.” 

While I talked, I let the sun warm my face and tan my arms. “He’s… difficult to understand. He flirts with me, really… shamelessly, but according to everyone, he’s just a flirt in general. But he got all jealous yesterday night, asked a ton of questions about you.. I don’t know. We’re good now, but… God.” I groaned into my hands. “What does he want from me?!” 

Torch’s naturally wide eyes searched mine once I dropped my hands back down. “Well, I’m pretty sure he wants you.” She paused. “Do you have feelings for him?”

“What does it look like,” I grimaced, resting backwards onto the roof. “I wish he was less confusing…”

Torch sighed audibly. “Me too..” 

I perched an eyebrow. “You also wish Ghoul was less confusing..?”

She blushed, looking as if she ran through a field of pink pollen and strawberries. “Oh! Uh, I meant with, you know,” She flailed her hands about. “Sk8 Bite.”

I rolled over onto my stomach, resting my chin on my palms. “Tell me about it,” I drawled, putting on an over-exaddgerated southern grandma impression.

She lay back with me, watching the orange sky. “We’ve only really talked a couple times, but- she’s so cool! She skateboards so well, and her hair is cool, and her makeup is cool. She’s always been so nice to me, too. I bumped into her the first time… I  was so nervous, and she just helped me up, dusted me off, smiled that stupidly beautiful smile, and said, ‘Sweet hair, firebolt.’”

I bursted out laughing. Of course Torch would remember that. And swoon about it. “‘Sweet hair, firebolt’? Are you sure she’s not secretly a draculoid? Has she got you brainwashed?”

Torch hit me in the shoulder, with a surprising amount of force. I rubbed at it as she spoke. “Shut it, dimwit! She’s so awesome..” 

I rolled my eyes fondly, sitting up and listening to the chorus of my spine cracking back into place. I looked into the distance… when my eyes leveled in on something.

Out of the side of my mouth, I whispered, “Torchy,” And scrambled to the very edge to get a better view.

I was right. Ghoul and Sk8 were talking. The conversation did not look very pleasant, with the permanent scowl that Ghoul wore on his face, but Sk8 was cracking up. 

I worriedly furrowed my eyebrows. “You dont think he..?”

“Likes her? No. They’ve been enemies since forever. I think Sk8 pantsed him when we were younger and he never got over it. Another thing that makes her so great.” Her words reassured me, calming the hairs that were beginning to stand up on the back of my neck.

I chuckled. “I understand what Ghoul felt now. Being jealous, I mean. I do really, really like him, and I was about to have the biggest heart attack.”

The redhead snorted, “If you had a heart attack it would be funny. I think you’d go all,” She demonstrated, inflating her cheeks and twisting her limbs. “You know?”

I ripped my eyes away from her and turned back to our obsessions. “Oh, trust me, that’s how it would go.” I gazed wistfully out. 

The sun had set just below the horizon line at this point. “You should make it home before it gets fully dark. Beat Ghoul. He’ll probably be happy to see you.” 

I nodded in agreement. “Tell your mother I say hi.”

“She wants to meet you, badly. You’re apparently the talk of the town in the hair salon,” She grinned, standing up beside me. 

On top of the roof, it was mostly flat, besides a couple crates. “What’s in there?” She asked.

I face-palmed. “Probably cocaine or something, don’t open-”

But it was already too late, the girl bounded over and opened up the crate. Inside was not any particular white powder. Instead, it was different fabrics packed inside. She dumped it to the side. 

“This is so sweet!” Her eyes lit up, catching on a white and black striped jacket that had an orange streak running alongside the zipper. She carefully picked it up, blowing dust off, and letting it settle on her shoulders. “It’s old.” She whispered. “Nobodies used these in awhile.”

I frowned, despite my internal defiance, I stepped closer. “What if it’s Mag’s clothes from when she was a kid?”

“Pois’ I think these are older.” 

“Her moms?”

Torch laughed and looked down at the pile. The jacket really did fit her well. All she needed was a pair of black sunglasses to add. She picked up another peice- it was a denim vest that matched her jacket. “I’ll only take these. They’re a set.” She said.

I sighed, knowing I couldn’t stop her. I glanced downwards at the articles of clothing all stacked up on eachother. I used my foot to nudge some aside, before my sharp eyes caught on something. A navy blue sleeve. I didn’t like blue, but something about it was calling to me.

I pulled it into my grasp, holding it up. On the back, a large circle, an X, and a pill. On the front, a small logo of an animal, and the words, ‘Dead Pegasus.’

“No way,” Torch said, examaning it. “Dude, that’s the fuel company! I’ve never seen it on any shirts or anything, though.”

I must have looked confused, because she continued talking. “It’s the best gas station company in the zones, the closest one ain't too far from here.”

She dug through the clothes until she found a matching vest for me. “Look. These fit you so well.” She said, holding them up against me. “Size wise, and aestethic wise.” 

“You think?” I asked, smiling softly. I did really love the logo, the different attributes of it. “I think this might just be my new signature clothing.”

“Same here.” Torch said, happily looking down at her striped clothes. “I could style so well with this.” 

I glanced at the sky. “I should definitely get home.” I said, pulling her into a hug. “Thanks, again, for hanging out.”

“Anytime.” She said, crawling down the ladder after me. “Let’s bring a radio next time.”

We walked home in silence, by eachother’s side until the last second in which we had to split. “Tommarow?”

“Tommarow.”