Santa Claus is Dead, and assorted Teen Angst
Sex, drugs, and dreary 80's goth music
***
He had never gotten so much attention. Everyone turned and stared at him in the hallway. He could hear their whispers and giggling, but it didn't affect him. It was as if he couldn't see them, as if it didn't matter. As if all that mattered was the secret pounding inside of him, and only one other soul would ever know.
***
Ronny was no where to be found the rest of the day. In his absence, Mark felt only numbness. He wasn't part of their world anymore. The pain was gone, but he had never felt so monstrously out of place. To them he was hideous, incapable of love or being loved. But he had felt Ronny's heart, he had felt his blood, he knew that even if neither of them were the kind of people who got happy endings, that at least they could be in exile together.
***
As soon as the bell rang, Mark ran to Ronny's house. He could hear taunts behind him, and could anticipate the trouble with his parents that would lie ahead of him, but all that mattered now was to see Ronny. The rusty door was loose, and banged back and forth in the wind that always prophesized a coming storm. The air was charged with electricity; Mark could feel it run through him as he stopped to catch his breath. He walked into the house quietly, and headed straight to Ronny's door. He could hear a sad voice singing lullaby's on the record player. As soon as his hand was on the knob, he was overcome with reality. What was he doing? Why did a boy make him feel like this? He opened his eyes wide, but before he could turn away, he caught his reflection in the metal knob. Pursed black lips, and Frankenstein eyes, cold and sure, looked up at him. This was where he needed to be.
***
Ronny's room was dark, lit only be a few flickering candles on his desk. Mark heard the first crack of thunder outside, and then rain began to fall. It fell like it was enraptured with gravity. The sky fell to the earths embrace outside in the purple sky. Ronny sat at the head of his bed, his back against the wall, and his knees hugged up to his chest. His dark skin looked sallow and his eyes looked desperate and scared. Dried eyeliner tears covered his cheeks and his lips were raw and red. He looked at Mark, the perfect image of beauty and control. Mark stood for a moment, seeing only the way Ronny looked like a fallen angel in purple glow of the storm, the way the candles briefly, teasingly, lit up his face. Mark closed the door behind him, and walked to the foot of the bed. He sat down, resting his elbows on his knees, and pushed back his hair. "Ronny.
"I'm sorry." "." "You make me feel alive, you scare me." Mark lifted his head, and looked at the boy who had just spoken such words, with out guile, with complete trust. The boy who never said anything had spoken truth to him. The were monsters, Mark and Ronny. Demented muses, evil angels. Ronny let go of his knees, and moved towards Mark. Lightening lit up the room, Ronny's face was a picture of openness, and Mark's was still and assured. The rain poured down, beating into the dry ground, filling up every crevice. Mark breathed in the sweet air the Ronny exhaled as he leaned into Mark's mouth. Mark felt Ronny's lip's nudge his own open. Ronny kissed him fiercely, pressing his swollen lips hard against Mark's black lips. The universe was quiet, and there was only the devastating loss and the earth shattering joy that passed between their mouths as they breathed in and out of each other. The kiss healing their insides, filling the most grotesque hidden hatreds and grudges with the perfection of a single moment where they were not just lonely misfits. They were monsters, and they were strong and beautiful.
Sex, drugs, and dreary 80's goth music
***
He had never gotten so much attention. Everyone turned and stared at him in the hallway. He could hear their whispers and giggling, but it didn't affect him. It was as if he couldn't see them, as if it didn't matter. As if all that mattered was the secret pounding inside of him, and only one other soul would ever know.
***
Ronny was no where to be found the rest of the day. In his absence, Mark felt only numbness. He wasn't part of their world anymore. The pain was gone, but he had never felt so monstrously out of place. To them he was hideous, incapable of love or being loved. But he had felt Ronny's heart, he had felt his blood, he knew that even if neither of them were the kind of people who got happy endings, that at least they could be in exile together.
***
As soon as the bell rang, Mark ran to Ronny's house. He could hear taunts behind him, and could anticipate the trouble with his parents that would lie ahead of him, but all that mattered now was to see Ronny. The rusty door was loose, and banged back and forth in the wind that always prophesized a coming storm. The air was charged with electricity; Mark could feel it run through him as he stopped to catch his breath. He walked into the house quietly, and headed straight to Ronny's door. He could hear a sad voice singing lullaby's on the record player. As soon as his hand was on the knob, he was overcome with reality. What was he doing? Why did a boy make him feel like this? He opened his eyes wide, but before he could turn away, he caught his reflection in the metal knob. Pursed black lips, and Frankenstein eyes, cold and sure, looked up at him. This was where he needed to be.
***
Ronny's room was dark, lit only be a few flickering candles on his desk. Mark heard the first crack of thunder outside, and then rain began to fall. It fell like it was enraptured with gravity. The sky fell to the earths embrace outside in the purple sky. Ronny sat at the head of his bed, his back against the wall, and his knees hugged up to his chest. His dark skin looked sallow and his eyes looked desperate and scared. Dried eyeliner tears covered his cheeks and his lips were raw and red. He looked at Mark, the perfect image of beauty and control. Mark stood for a moment, seeing only the way Ronny looked like a fallen angel in purple glow of the storm, the way the candles briefly, teasingly, lit up his face. Mark closed the door behind him, and walked to the foot of the bed. He sat down, resting his elbows on his knees, and pushed back his hair. "Ronny.
"I'm sorry." "." "You make me feel alive, you scare me." Mark lifted his head, and looked at the boy who had just spoken such words, with out guile, with complete trust. The boy who never said anything had spoken truth to him. The were monsters, Mark and Ronny. Demented muses, evil angels. Ronny let go of his knees, and moved towards Mark. Lightening lit up the room, Ronny's face was a picture of openness, and Mark's was still and assured. The rain poured down, beating into the dry ground, filling up every crevice. Mark breathed in the sweet air the Ronny exhaled as he leaned into Mark's mouth. Mark felt Ronny's lip's nudge his own open. Ronny kissed him fiercely, pressing his swollen lips hard against Mark's black lips. The universe was quiet, and there was only the devastating loss and the earth shattering joy that passed between their mouths as they breathed in and out of each other. The kiss healing their insides, filling the most grotesque hidden hatreds and grudges with the perfection of a single moment where they were not just lonely misfits. They were monsters, and they were strong and beautiful.