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Carlos was perfect.
If Cecil was right about anything, it was that.
Carlos was perfect and sweet and handsome and smart, and Kevin knew a few things about him. Carlos was tired. Cecil was emotional. Kevin could do so much better than Cecil ever did.
He reflected on how Carlos and Cecil had interacted when Cecil had come to visit. They had been hesitant. Cecil had been shaky. Cecil had been sad. Carlos was made sad by this.
Kevin morally disagreed with the whole situation.
Carlos deserved someone who was always happy and it would make him always happy. He would show Carlos a whole new world of a relationship. They already had some form of one already.
Kevin was fed up with all the frowning. All the crying. All the yelling. The fighting needed to stop. Cecil...needed to stop.
Kevin smirked and reapplied the blood red lipstick he had been wearing recently. He had to win this. He had to win.
He would get Carlos. He knew he would.
He remembered his mother’s old scoldings about sharing, and not stealing things that were other people’s. He didn’t remember his mother much. He was almost certain she was a bloodstain back home in Desert Bluffs.
Was Carlos really Cecil’s anymore, though? After all he and that wonderful scientist had done? All of what Cecil didn’t know?
Kevin laughed softly and spun his chair around a bit. Carlos didn’t even love Cecil at this point, did he? All of this? He was a truly blessed man, the smiling god making Carlos more productive than ever, and a lot more hesitant to leave him. And soon….Cecil has to get more fed up. He shouldn’t be this okay with leaving Night Vale, where he grew up and lived.
He would eventually get tired. Carlos already was, evidently.\
Cecil was always so sad. It really pissed Kevin off, and he hated being anything other than happy. How dare Cecil be so sad and make everyone and everything around him depressed. It was gross of him. He should be ashamed of himself!
Carlos needed to stop lying to him, stop giving him so many gentle words and start telling him the truth. Carlos didn’t love Cecil. Carlos loved Kevin. Of course he did.
Kevin hated hearing and seeing people cry. So of course, that didn’t change when it was about Cecil. It almost became worse. He wanted Cecil gone. If Kevin had to kill Cecil, he was prepared to do so. Very ready and enthusiastic.
Carlos had to be so exhausted with him. So, so exhausted. Kevin didn’t require much love at all. If Carlos needed, he would never have to say those words again. Kevin didn’t need love. He didn’t need anything other than his god and his goals. He obsessed over his goals. And his next goal….Stealing Cecil Palmer’s boyfriend away.
Was Carlos ever really Cecil’s? Cecil was overly obsessed with him, in most ways. He was cute and energetic, but did Carlos really foresee the true Cecil he’d find?
Cecil had plenty of skeletons in his closet. Too many to count.
Kevin was cute. Kevin was energetic. On top of it all, Kevin was always happy! How could you even compare Cecil and Kevin? He was obviously better.
He tutted and smirked. No contest.
He was a better decorator as well. Cecil’s rooms and offices never had any blood at all! No organs, or teeth, or torn skin, or hair. No beautiful gore splattered on the wall, like in all of Kevin’s rooms. He ran his finger over his desk thoughtfully, scooping up some of the wet and thick blood onto his finger, examining the beautiful ink on his hand in the different light, smirking with his wide, gaping smile. He opened his mouth carefully, smearing the substance all over his already red lips, giving them a certainly glossy finish. He closed his now blood soaked lips around the finger, sucking the excess red off of his skin and smirking.
His show was almost over, but he was okay. He’d go home and see Carlos after, Another reminder that he was winning. He had practically already won.
Suck it, Palmer.
He laughed darkly. He had already won.
He laughed more, scooping up more of the red goo and going over to his wall. He laughed and laughed, face hurting as he wrote the words out on the wall. Blood red letters soaking down the wall as only his laughter can be heard.
“Stay away from things that aren’t yours”
He thought.
P
“Stay away from things that aren’t yours”
A
It filled his mind to the brim.
C
He didn't care at all, really.
I
Fuck you, mom.
F
He had no guilt.
Y
He felt nothing but victory in his life.
Surveying his artistic writing on the wall happily he picked up his bag.
“Stay away from thing that aren’t yours.”
How silly. Everything was his.