If my mom saw me right now, she'd actually call for the holy spirit of Jesus Christ.

I'm dressed as if I'm going to a damn Marilyn Manson concert or a satanic cult convention. Stan has been in my room for the passed hour helping me get ready for the tonight's party that I didn't really want to go to begin with. He knows I'm not the type to attend those retarded parties where everyone humiliates themselves with drugs and intense intoxication. Negotiating with Stan however never exactly works on my end; he always seems to convince me to do weird shit that I would never involve myself in. When Stan came over to pick me up I was all ready to head out, but he thought I was too underdressed for the occasion. He acted like a complete hetero-sexual the moment he scanned my attire, bluntly reminding me of his short lived 'queer eye for the straight guy' phase, ulgh. Considering this party is catered to every goth, scene and punk kid in town, I had to blend in.

Oh, and emo kids were supposedly not invited.

Stan has dressed me up in a pair of his dark washed skinny jeans that predominantly showed off my ass cheeks, a fitted black tee that also shows off more then what I'm use to. I'm also wearing my traditional black and white converse. Stan rummaged through my closet and found a silver and black checkered stud belt that he made me put on to accentuate the whole scene look, courtesy of Kenny who left it at my house one day. I ended up tossing it in my closet, completely forgetting about it the moment I shut the sliding door. He then pulled out a black pencil from his back pocket and handed it to me.

"Put this on." He offered.

I slowly twisted the pencil between my thumb and index finger in bewilderment, clearly not understanding his request. "Dude, what the hell do-

"Here, sit down." He directed with his hand towards my computer chair.

I did what I was told with out any objection; a mix of curiosity and frustration seemed to support my lack of protest. He snatched the pencil away from my weak hold just as swiftly as he tossed it to me. One of Stan's hands came to my face, his thumb pressed against the delicate skin underneath my left eye as he leaned in directing the black pencil with his other hand toward my the rim of my lid. I knitted my brows and immediately pulled back from instinct.

"What the hell are you doing?" I demanded, my voice slightly cracking from alarm.

"It's just some eyeliner, don't freak out." Stan reassured me, but his casualness was not necessarily rubbing off on me.

"That shit is for girls." I informed, flabbergasted.

"Not in this case, now relax." He eased, holding up both hands in defense.

A few moments of silence passes without giving him my full consent. I feel his gaze piercing through mine and I know in due time I'll just give in like I normally do under these type of circumstances.

"Do you want to go or not?" He finally asks.

"No!" I replied without filtering out my answer, a wave of shock courses through me after that ridiculous question slipped his mouth. I told him I didn't want to go from the very beginning but he pressured me on into going. God, I don't know how he does it and I don't know why I agree at the end of it all.

Stan shook his head dismissing my answer and continued on. "Whatever dude, just relax."

I roll my eyes as an exasperated sigh escapes my lips. I feel like a bratty child right now who's forced to look all dolled up for six a.m. Sunday school. Except the only thing I'll be encountering tonight will be people who wish they'd hang out with the fallen angel himself.

I can feel Stan's warm breath on my check as he traces the black ink on the rim of my eye. I can feel my eye begin to tear up as air began to irritate it. Stan's mouth becomes slightly ajar and his eyes become more focused as he traces over my rim again, he moves to my right eye and proceeds to repeat the same process. My eyes are so watery right now I think the liner will just wash right off. When Stan is done I blink excessively until the irritation subsides and my visual clarity is back.

"It looks really good on you." Stan compliments with a small tug at the edge of his lips. "Just get your finger and slightly smudge the eyeliner a little bit for a more dramatic look." He advised.

I got up and went over to my mirror that's hangs over my dresser and took a look. The black did seem to enhance my green orbs it almost reminded me of cat eyes. I couldn't help but to discreetly admire Stan's work, it did look pretty cool. I took my finger and lightly rubbed the liner and it suddenly converted into a more smoky effect.

I wiped my finger on the denim of my jeans and turned around and presented my final look to Stan with both of my arms crossed over my chest with a 'are you happy now?' look.

"Perfect." He complimented clearly satisfied with his work.

I seriously hope tonight will go a lot smoother than what I've been imagining.

TBC

I've been wanting to write this for a while now. I hope it turns out well considering I never read anything along these line yet involving Kyle and Red Goth. Also very sorry to my readers who is reading "Half Lidded Eyes" I'm seriously stuck right now and I tend to get a kick of inspiration if I write something completely different. R/R!