By: Evil Bunny
ONESHOT
-
"Oh, look at all you lucky people,
Of all the things you do.
Look at all your smiling faces,
Wish I could be like you"-
Hate.
It boiled, bubbled, it's steamy fingers reached upward, like water on the boil. This kettle was ready to whistle. Blindly he pushed it down, deep down. He imagined it was something solid, something malleable, and he eased it down to his ankles. He imagined himself walking on it, and his stoic lips curled a bit.
Temper. Ire. It could be controlled, artfully handled. At least that's what he told himself as he watched students milling about. Leaning over the railing he imagined he could see them there, those bound to him by something stronger than blood. They could have been, his bored eyes flittered down from his roof top perch, and pictured them together.
A damp chilly wind pushed willful white strands into his eyes, he yawned. The constant battle, the never-ending struggle to keep him in checkā¦it was more mundane now. It was something to be endured, not antagonized. Even now hot pointy fingers of anger clawed at his insides, stabs of revulsion landed violently; like an arrow from fletcher's fingers. His own released the cold metal railing.
Long legs folded, sending him to the hard rooftop abruptly. Leaning back on his elbows, he tilted his face towards the sun and let red invade his mind in searing waves of blinding crimson, as if he had to prove to himself that it was controllable, pegged beneath the thumb of reason. He indulged himself, drowning in the glory of his desperate rage, but nothing more than his jaw clenched. Then nails dug into the rough texture of the surface beneath him. Then sinewy cords stood out in sleek fore arms.
A delicious mental torture. The strength of that four-letter word pounded in his chest and his lips twisted in a vague semblance of a smile. Then a cool breeze snaked across his chest, teasing skin he had haphazardly left exposed, and he was once again pushing the black monster into it's cage. It went, but it rattled its bars and screeched its displeasure.
With slow predictable movements he rose to his feet and moved to the door. His fire was stoked, his pot at a simmer. Head lighter, and his face bland he shoved his hands in his pocket. For the moment he was content and his mind whirled with the slow agitation of thoughts.
Content now, he went in search of his friends, ensured that the jealousy he felt at seeing them together would not show on his face. He was sure that now he could look into the eyes of that girl and not despise her for bringing a smile to the face of the one he loved. Hating her was stupid, but it was something that could not be helped. He envied her the ability to make those gentle lips curve, and the green fingers of envy wound around the bars of the beast's cage.
And deep in his heart the blackness curled, comforted by the new company.
-
I'm not all together pleased with this. It follows the Azalea, Dahlia thread. Whatever.
