A/N: Heavily inspired by a playlist consisting of Death of a Bachelor and Melanie Martinez.
Hope you enjoy, and reviews are appreciated!
He couldn't help locking people out.
It was familiar as a habit, toxic as alcohol or cigarettes.
Possibly even more so.
The number of people who tried to steal his key dwindled—getting past his countless locks was impossible—and others stayed away from him like the poison he was (and always would be).
Truly, all he was.
Poison.
.
.
.
He could, and of course would, hide from cruel, cold reality for days, burying himself in toxic, toxic thoughts that needed escape.
All of him locked behind a steel door and clicking locks.
All of him pushing away everyone and everything, determined to stay solitary in his toxic ways.
That is, until one scarlet-haired beauty saw right through the poison and stared into the locked door that was begging to be opened (even if he didn't know it).
.
.
.
The scarlet-haired angel, as he liked to call her, inched towards his key, stubborn to reach what she knew lay behind the poison and the locked door.
She grew closer and closer, practically denting his door with her beautiful, kind eyes (though he never noticed the sadness) and knowing smile (though he never noticed strain). But her efforts did nothing further than that, never unlocking the door and unleashing the secrets of the toxic boy.
.
.
.
Her hair got her so, so close to unlocking the door. The flaming trail behind her glowing figure, her forever smiling and laughing face (though no one knew how good an actor she was) framed by that inferno. The key—the key that would free everything behind his poison, unlock those countless chains holding him inside—dangled in front of her; but as she reached for it, full of hope for their future (a future, the boy knew, that would always belong solely to her), it fell from its ever so precarious perch, tumbling past the girl's outstretched arms and into the poison—to be gone forever.
(Or so they thought.)
.
.
.
With this, he recoiled into his toxic mind even more, no longer caring about anything, even his flame-haired 'angel'. He only thought of his cowardice: how the poison filled him with apprehension, betraying what he yearned for and locking him in hell all over again.
The girl with an inferno of hair quickly grew tired of this— his distance and cruelty, his poison controlling so much more than necessary. Still, she didn't give up, continuously trying to snag his key.
.
.
.
It was the loss of recognition that made her snap. She masked her own poison (yes, this alleged angel held just as much, if not more poison than the toxic boy) with the bright grin she forced ever so often; but as she called out his name, enthusiastic greeting close to its start, the boy of poison looked up at this girl of poison (masked, yet just as toxic) with nothing but a small sneer and pure hate.
With that, this toxic, toxic girl ripped away her carefully—but horribly—sewn seams and unleashed her poison.
.
.
.
She screamed at him until her throat ached, shouting of flames and torture and orphanages and so, so much pain and beatings and fury and sadness and loss, even more loss than anything else. Loss of parents, friends, happiness, and everything important in her life. True loss of everything. This girl was filled to the brim with poison, yet his own toxins prevented him from seeing past her carefully (horribly) carved mask.
So, as she stared at him—face colored to rival her hair, yet no tears falling—he looked into her eyes, and the key appeared in her hands, golden and good as new. The girl made of poison and pain softened, and gently, she unlocked his door.
.
.
.
He fell into her, and their tears started together as the barricade between their two toxic souls broke down.
They wept into each other's comforting, comforting arms, the boy weeping over his own poison, over the feeling of his door being unlocked, the girl weeping over everything said and unsaid between them, over unlocking her door from the inside to show him her own poison.
They simply held each other for what seemed like eternity, basking in their poison as a whole; until the scarlet-haired, poison-filled girl captured his lips with hers, speaking of promises and promises all over again—and a bright future emerged for these toxic beings, locks clicking and doors swung wide to be forever open.
(And he could finally see the two of them walking down this bright path of a future—together—instead of just his toxic angel.)