pan tostado
"Fucking fireworks," Riku grumbles, fishing his hands further into the pockets of his purple hoodie, "fucking Axel and his fucking fireworks."
Another loud detonation shakes the once-steady foundation of their small doublewide; bits of flaming cardboard fly in large arches hither and thither. There's no pretty or sparkly or flowery in Axel's fireworks, just the splintering crack of illegal explosives.
"Wasn't that awesome, Riku?" Axel's eyes reflect the shower of sparks blossoming from the neighbor kid's yard.
"No." Riku jams his earplugs further down both his canals. Fourth of July with Axel is like ass-fucking a shark: it's awkward, loud, and you may lose a few fingers.
"Shut up." He laughs despite his tone. Axel can't be unhappy when there's fire.
Riku watches as Axel begins to pace around and around the large space of charred remains. Sometimes his lean frame bends, here or there, to mark a symbol in the blackness. It's all very stupid to Riku.
He prances closer, picking up a mutilated soda-can and pegging Axel in the head. "Get on with it."
"Shut up!" Axel waves his dirty hands in the other's face, "I'm concentrating!"
"Gee, that's new."
"Shut up!"
"Make me." Axel jerks Riku by the arm. His hot hands shimmy up the other sweatshirt and across his chest.
"Oh, Axel." Riku's breath is light on Axel's neck.
"Yea, boy."
"No, wait. Axel."
The redhead's digits slide long, soot lines down the pale flesh of Riku's muscled stomach.
"Axel."
Riku squirms a bit. Axel holds him tighter.
"Axelthehouseisonfire!"
"Indeed it is."
end
my ears are bleeding.
:B