By: Tinque Abelle
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Almighty Thinnest Jhonen Vasquez. X-Box belongs to Microsoft. This fic belongs to me and is not used for profit.
Chapter Two"Your parents will not mind, right?"
Squee scoffed and rolled his eyes. "When have they ever?" he muttered.
Pepito looked at him in curiosity over the slightly offended look on his face and hopped onto the wretched school bus. A stench of sweat struck him and Squee and the rowdy noisiness of the bus's teenaged, hormone-driven passengers stung their ears. By some lucky twist of fate, they had actually managed to find an empty seat within the crowded bus in which they could share. Squee felt another mysterious tingle as he sat down beside his friend, brushing his leg against his. All of a sudden, the bus went quiet, with only the roar of the engine making noise. He glanced around to find out why everyone stopped talking when he realized that everyone was looking at Pepito and him.
"It's true, then! You two really are fags," stated a blonde-haired girl. She averted her gaze and Squee followed her eyes, wondering what she was looking at: Pepito had his hand on his. Quickly, Squee withdrew his hands while Pepito made a small pout.
"When will you ever learn to mind your own business, foolish mortals?"
"No, no, we're," Squee released an anxious chuckle, "we're not … together or .. anything." Before Pepito could retort, he glared at him and reiterated, "We're not."
…
"Oh, a visitor?" A tall, lanky-figured woman with short blonde hair greeted Squee with a bright smile.
Pepito nodded. "Yes, mother, Squee and I are going to go upstairs and play with my new X-Box. If you need me for whatever reason, knock first. I repeat, Mother: knock first." Squee glanced inquiringly at his impish smirk.
…
Pepito switched the game console on as soon as they entered the bedroom. Posters of various bands adorned the black walls, containers of severed hands and lava lamps of all shapes and sizes sat upon his dresser and tabletops, studded belts and collars were flung out along with apparel of dark colors across the floor. The sinister feeling of the demon child's bedroom prickled the hairs on the back of Squee's neck. He jumped in surprised as booming heavy metal music crashed through the speakers of a massive boombox. "You don't mind if I play this, do you? I always listen to music while playing games."
The music was terribly discomforting but Squee felt it was best if he did not upset him, so he politely responded, "I don't mind."
Pretty soon, though, he was beginning to enjoy his stay more and more; the X-Box was addictive. Without much to do at his house but write, he was not accustomed to having so much fun. "Turn right, Squee!" yelled Pepito, shaking wildly with excitement. "Go, go, go, go, go -- aagh! Oh well, you almost had it …"
"Two lives left," mumbled Squee as he took on the level yet again, determined to beat it this time.
The music was still blaring but Squee was too drawn into he game to let it bother him. Pepito observed him, studying his every move. Squee didn't even notice when he placed his hand onto his knee. "Are you enjoying this, Squee?"
"You know, for the first time, I actually am!" He continued pressing the buttons o the controller rapidly, biting his lip in resolution. THUD! Suddenly, he was pounced onto the floor, Pepito holding him down with a menacingly seductive look in his eyes. "P-Pepito? What are you --"
"Shhh, don't speak," he whispered, drawing his face up to his.
"Pepito, stop! Wha --" Squee's eyes flew open as he felt his lips mingled with his. Pepito's lips danced, only quickening the pace as the music blasted louder, his hands sliding up his tight red shirt. For a moment, Squee just stopped struggling, giving into the imp; he felt oddly tickled, being fondled with like this. He finally let out a staggered squeak as he felt a tongue prying into his mouth and shoved him off, wiping his lips. "I don't think we should be doing this, Pepito …"
He smirked, trying to refrain a laugh. "Come now, you know you liked it."
Even with the loud, clamoring music, Squee could still hear Pepito's breath as he planted kisses onto his neck. Should he stop him? Pretty soon, someone was bound to walk into the room … oh why was he even questioning this? Of course had to stop him … and still, something in the back of his mind prevented him. Slowly, he felt his shirt unraveling and twitched as Pepito kissed his small belly. "Pepito, just … your mom, she's going to --"
"I told Mother to knock, didn't I?" He ran his fingers through the naïve little boy's unruly black hair and kissed him. "I thought we were amigos. Why don't you like me?"
Squee felt his bare belly was being kissed again and then gasped as the imp's sly hands slithered downward …
"Why don't you like me?" he repeated quietly in between kisses.
"I do like you, but -- squee!" He leapt up and fastened the button on his jeans immediately. "We're just friends!"
Still on his knees on the floor, Pepito looked up at Squee, his mischievous face fading away. They paused for a moment, staring at each other awkwardly until Pepito turned away and said in a deep, disappointed voice , "Fine. Go ahead and go if you please."
Squee glanced at the X-Box and then back at Pepito, frowning. "Well, I liked it before you … uhm …"
"Squee, just go. I'll see you at school tomorrow." He rose to his feet and headed towards the boombox, intensifying the volume with his back remaining towards Squee.
Squee wanted to say something but quickly decided against it. It was clear that Pepito did not want to continue this discussion and if that was not the case, trying to communicate with him through the insane decibel level of the heavy metal music was impossible. Hesitantly, he exited the bedroom with a pang of guilt.
With a heavy sigh, Pepito slowly sauntered to the only window, where he watched Squee walking away and heading home. For the first time, he actually felt lonely. He seldom ever felt the pain of loneliness. There was always something to do: driving poor mortals into deep insanity, tormenting souls of the damned, casting maniac demon squirrels on unsuspecting passerby's -- now he felt an eerie emptiness. He wished he had not dismissed Squee so quickly but he was -- dare he said it -- hurt by his reaction. The window rattled from the crashing sound waves emitting from the boombox. He smiled to himself. Squee couldn't even handle his music. That face of his was priceless. "Squee …" he sighed, plopping down onto his plaid-printed bed.
…
"Mom, it's me, your son?" reminded Squee, rolling his eyes. "I was at my … erm … friend's house for a while."
"Oh. Well, you should have stayed there." His wretched excuse for a mother continued drinking her coffee, sitting at the table, and doing nothing, like she always did. The bags under her eyes were drooping, looking more miserable than usual.
"Are you okay, Mom?"
"What? Yeah, yeah, sure. Go to your room or something, I don't know." She sipped her coffee again.
Scoffing in disbelief, he retreated up to his room, which retained the childish appearance as it did since he was a child. His backback was flung onto his bed after he pulled out his notebook and pencil. Sitting at his desk, he turned to the page where he had left off during lunch and attempted to finish. Five minutes passed and he grew silently frustrated, as he only managed to add four measly words onto the page. He ran his hand over the area on his neck where Pepito had generously kissed him and then touched his lip, shuddering as the tingling sensation returned. What had happened with Pepito today? He wasn't molested or anything, because he eventually did stop. Besides, what happened were merely kisses and … lots of touching …
Titling his head downward, he closed his eyes and wished that he did not have to leave so early; somehow, he wished he was still with Pepito, to see what would have happened if he did remain there -- Squee slapped himself for thinking such things.
Yelling erupted from downstairs. Apparently, his father was home and was berating his mother about something yet again. He tried to finish up one sentence was too distracted; the yelling grew louder and louder with each passing second. Without even realizing it, his knees pressed up against his chest and he embraced them, dropping his pencil. Outside, the heavens were darkening.
"I expect my dinner when I come home, you incompetent bitch! All you do is sit around, taking your pills, watching those goddamned soap operas all day!"
Feeling a vague, watery warmth forming in his eyes, he now longed for Pepito. With Pepito, he strangely felt safe.
"Quite boisterous, aren't they?"
Startled, he cautiously pivoted his head around, clamping his knees tightly. The voice was familiar … "S-Shmee?"
"No use in screaming so much. She will not surrender her compulsive addiction to her pills and those revolting soap operas." The tattered teddy bear sat on the boy's bed, staring at him with this ominous, colorless eyes.
"You haven't spoken in a while …squeee … I'm not going crazy am I?"
"Oh you aren't crazy, I make sure of that. I soak up the things that can drive you into madness, don't you remember? And believe it, it is not an easy job."
"I haven't heard form you since I was released from the mental institution I the middle of sixth grade, and throughout seventh and eighth grade, you still didn't talk to me. I thought I was finally sane …" He frowned.
"You are sane, but just barely." Shmee grinned. "Well, through the past two years, you were seeing a therapist and that's been keeping you pretty normal … sooo, I thought I decided to go on an extended vacation!"
"Well, I'm glad you're here now … sorta."
"You are troubled, though. I can feel it in my cottony viens."
"Yeah, I suppose I a-am …"
"Your parents?" He titled his head towards the door where the muffled yelling increased.
"No. Sadly, I've gotten used to it."
"Then what is it?"
He paused, staring at his knees and then dug his face into them. "Pepito …"