I don't own anything
He wouldn't stop pacing the floor; with one hand resting on his chin and the other hand on the elbow, the Briton walked and re–walked the same few paces of the living room. Fanboy gave a shrug, his feet propped up on the coffee table and arms resting on top of the back of the couch.
"I don't see the big deal Kyle, maybe you're just over–reacting?" Fanboy said with a shrug, but this merely made the Brit's eyebrow twitch.
"I never over–react." The redhead said in a hiss, shooting the other an angry look. "Something's really not right here. I should've listened to Mr. Kinn…"
"Mr. Kinn?" Fanboy asked, one purple eyebrow raised. Kyle gave a nod, still pacing. "What's Mr. Kinn got to do with you going back to Milkweed?"
"Honestly, I haven't an answer for you there." The redhead said, furrowing his brows. "But… out of all of the people in that school, he'd be the last person who would know… at least, judging from appearances, anything specific about the magical world.."
"Well, y'know what they say; ya can't judge a book by it's cover." Fanboy said, a slight grin tugging at the corner of his lips as he watched the other fidget with his fingers. "You can't stand still, can you?"
"Oh that's rich." Kyle answered flatly. "You can't stand still no matter what. I can't stand still when there's something strange going on."
He turned his head to face the purple–haired boy.
"There's a difference."
The other gave a grin. "Just sounds like you're just being grouchy."
"Oh please, maybe you're just being an idiot as usual." Kyle said in a huff. Rubbing his eyes, he let a sigh pass through him before he plopped himself down on the couch, a good foot apart from Fanboy.
"I don't think my stay at Milkweed is going to be a fun as I thought it would be." He said in a disappointed tone.
"Don't say that, who knows? Maybe you'll make a new friend." Fanboy said through a faint smile. He knew that the Brit did get lonely, and he knew that the other boy secretly craved some sort of attention; the slightly intrusive kind that struck up a conversation.
"Hey…"
And he knew that the redhead was practically dying on the inside, whether it be from lack of magical stimulus or intellectual.
"Don't look like that…"
And without realizing, the Hero had reached over, letting his gloved fingertips graze that pale, freckled cheek.
"You'll ruin your face…" He said, his voice just above a whisper so that his words hung in the air between them, but only for a few brief moments. Now his palm was leaning against the side of Kyle's face, the fingers crawling into the red thread of his hair and the thumb resting on the spot right next to the corner of his lips. Time seemed to slow down, and a look of surprise was splashed across the Briton's face as the masked boy leaned in, his mouth slightly ajar as he pressed softly against those pale lips.
"You worry too much…" Fanboy murmured, "It's not healthy."
And with another swift motion, the Hero let his hand move into the forest of the Brit's hair, lightly grasping it as he kissed him again. He could feel his chest swelling with an unknown desire, and the soft gasp for air that Kyle made beneath him fed the fire that was kindling in the bottom pit of his stomach. But then, just as he was losing himself, he felt a pair of hands press against his chest, willing him away. Reality struck down on the purple–haired boy, and he pulled away, letting go of those lovely locks and releasing those light lips. He took in the sight of a dazed Kyle, cheeks flushed and eyes lightly hazy. Fanboy could feel his own cheeks beginning to heat. He opened his mouth to say something, but couldn't manage anything and instead pressed his mouth against Kyle's again. His weight pushed down on the thinner boy, trapping the Briton between the couch and the Hero as the said Hero continued violating the redhead, his breathing growing heavy as he snogged him and grasped whatever his hands could grab.
"F-Fangh-"
He could feel small hands grab at the front of his shirt, slowly traveling up to grasp his shoulders. Panicked moans and aroused cries escaped Kyle as he felt Fanboy's lips paralyzing him. They were all over him; his cheeks, lips, ears, neck. Oh god the neck, his green eyes went out of focus and rolled to the back of head when he felt that wet tongue swirl against his skin and teeth bite down as strong hands grabbed him, pushing their bodies together. A shudder rippled through his body, and he soon found the Hero grunting against him, his own legs loosely wrapped around the American's waist and keeping their bodies close as the primitive act of physical need continued.
"F, Fanboy… s-stop." He said in a weak whimper. It was a lie of course, he didn't want it to stop, but dear god it was just so wrong. Unfortunately, the Brit's plea fell on deaf ears; Fanboy, who was in a complete frenzy, pulled his gloves off before using one hand to grab the back of Kyle's neck as the other caressed the skin underneath his shirt. Another cry of mercy escaped Kyle, but it was drowned out when the Hero pressed their lips together again. Kyle could feel fear rising in his chest as he struggled against the other, and the fear grew when he felt Fanboy's groin grind against his own, causing a moan to bubble up and go past his lips.
They were boys, they shouldn't be doing things like this.
It was when he felt a tug at his pants, the fear overrode the arousal and made Kyle push against the American, crying out a violent 'Stop!' and untangling himself from the other boy the best he could. Shaking, the Brit pulled away, toppling off of the couch, and then crawling toward the wall in a panicked state.
This… wasn't how he imagined the night would turn out.
The locks clicked shut as footsteps echoed through the dim–lit corridor. The torches that hung up against the cobble stoned wall burned and crackled, watching in silence as the figure swiftly made way out of the narrow passage. It wasn't long before the clicking of feet stopped and was replaced by the sound of thumps; the person going up a set of stairs. The creaking of a door swinging open followed suit, and then a final click. This one heavier, sturdier, compared to the thin clicks of the metal locks below. The man entered a well lit room, bare bulbs hanging above him like strange fruit, looking down upon the square, white room. There were only two wood chairs, a door, and a sink in the corner.
"It's just so nice…." The man said, taking in a deep breath, holding it, and then letting it out in one big gush.
"The smell of new paint, clean chairs, nice lighting… nothing could be better."
And with that, he walked across the room toward another door, leaving the near bare room, and into another. This time it looked like a living room of sorts. Before setting down on the couch, the man swiftly picked up the pile of letters I one hand and sifted through them. When he got to the middle of the list, he stopped, a smile slowly curling his lips. Without minding the other envelopes, he tore open the one in his hands and pulled out the letter; a neatly folded paper that was tinted purple:
Dear dad,
I thought about your offer, and honestly, I don't want to be a part of the family business. You know it goes against what I stand for, and the morals I have. But, I realize that you're also my father, and without you, I wouldn't have been able to live the way I do now. So as a consolation of sorts, and as a back up plan if things don't go well, I'll join you and try to learn the business if I don't get into college. I know it's a while from now, but I'd like to have more time to think about the decisions I'll be making.
I'm not making any promises, but the possibility of me joining you is there. That's all.
Hoping you're well,
F.R.
It was a rather short letter, and the man went through it again, but either way, he was satisfied; he only had one son, and he had been badgering his boy about the matter. A letter like this could only make him smile. Setting it down on the stand by the couch, he leaned back, letting his eyes close.
His dearest Fanboy, his most prized creation by far, coming to join him in a matter of two to three years or so. To say the least, he was excited.
"Oh Alice…" He said in a whisper. "If only you were here. If only you could share my joy… our son has decided to join his father."
I know it's short. My chapters are usually, relatively, short like this. Sorry you guys.
But yeah, I know everything's really ambiguous, and nothing's been cleared up yet; I'm sorry you guys, I'm sorry. But I really don't want to rush through the plot, and I think I'm still in the background–building process, so just bear with me a little more.
And, about any grammar errors and misspellings, just…. Don't give me a hard time about that stuff. I know the 'They're' 'There' and 'Their' thing, I know the 'You're' and 'Your' thing, I'm just not good at spotting the errors.
But…. Yeah, I hope you liked it.