Well, after much consideration, here it is. The next chapter.
The reason for the long delay is not only laziness and writer's block. I've been thinking. *gasp!* Yes, it is the apocalypse. I've run through several drafts of this, mostly in my head, a select few on paper. And, I've settled on this, my first impulse. I'm really sorry if it offends some people, but in this chapter, there is a very brief moment of slash. Male/male. It's nothing too serious, or even graphic. But, it's there. And, it inflicts a reaction on one of the participants.
If you're already disgusted, I suggest you skip this chapter. I'll write a brief summary of what went on at the bottom of the chapter. There may be a few light references of it in future chapters, but nothing more graphic than this. And this is just pathetic. Eh. It's just a precaution, I'm not sure how open-minded Grim Adventure's audiences are. Might make a few uncomfortable. I dunno. There is a PG-13 label on this. . .
But anyways. . . yeah. If you feel you can't take it, just scroll to the bottom. I'll explain. Or, just completely skip this chapter. Wait for an update. OR! Stop reading altogether. I really don't mind. This is how I think it should go. It's not a romance, as you will see. It's very brief! But it does have a purpose.
Okay. Enough of that. Geeze. I hate long author's notes, don't you? God. . .
On with the fic.
--~~*~~--
A porcelain-white hand darted out, taking his own into it.
"We need to talk."
Junior was mildly surprised at Piff's boldness. Not too many people would willingly take the hand of one with so many dark rumors floating around about him. Sort of a 'guilty by association' thing. It was a little comforting to know that this boy was willing to sacrifice social status to speak with him.
So, the son of Nergal decided to trust him. He carefully closed his fingers over Piff's, lacing the two pairs of digits neatly together. The smallest of smiles tugged at the corners of Piff's mouth, and he turned to the playground doors.
"Follow me," he said, starting into a slow trot. Junior did as he was instructed, though it was terribly hard to keep from walking ahead. Each step the pale boy took was seemingly measured, slow and deliberate in every stride, as if they were counts in a dance. There was a certain grace about his gait, like watching a stork walk across a pond. Except slower.
They walked through the doors onto the playground, where a sudden rush of blazing sunlight greeted them. Junior squinted, the green shadows of impaired vision playing in front of him, and for a moment he depended completely on Piff to keep him walking in the proper direction.
As he was lead blindly through the playgrounds, many thoughts floated around in Junior's head, a great number of them pertaining to this Piff. His gut was twisting around in itself, tangling knots into his stomach. Something didn't feel right. Though it felt nice to be so openly accepted by this dark boy, he had to be suspicious of his intentions. What exactly was it he wanted to talk about? Mandy? Surely there wasn't much left to say about her.
But then, what else could it be? A naïve thought, but maybe Piff wanted to get better acquainted. Maybe . . . he wanted to be . . . friends. Junior felt warmth fill his chest, spreading throughout his whole body like the blood pumped from his heart. Friends. He liked the thought of that. Finally, someone special to mend the lonely gap in his life. Someone to keep him company when times got hard, someone to shield him from the ignorant cruelty of mankind. Someone to talk to, someone who would listen. Finally. A friend.
Through the warm glow, Junior still felt his pessimistic instincts telling him something was amiss, but he pushed those thoughts hastily to the back of his mind. He didn't want to believe there was anything wrong with Piff. He wanted to trust him, to believe that the little Gothic child truly accepted him. He wanted to keep this fuzzy, cozy feeling. The feeling of being wanted. It made him feel . . . important. Worthwhile.
Junior's train of thought broke off as they slowed to a stop. He briskly glanced around, taking in the shaded area. It was beneath one of the eaves of the school, behind the cafeteria. In front of them loomed a huge wall, boxing around an area meant for garbage cans. Piff tugged his hand away, stalking forward. He glanced back and forth behind his glasses, and then made a swift motion for Junior to come closer. Junior obeyed, curious as to how the purple-haired one planned to get inside.
It was so simple, Junior almost missed it. With one swift swing of his purple boots, Piff kicked off the bolt holding the hinges in place, and the door swung open, the chain and padlock on the opposite side serving as its new hinges. Junior gagged, a hand flying to his nose. The sickeningly sweet mixture of old garbage and incense assaulted his senses, burning his nostrils deep inside.
Piff's hand caught his free one, and he hesitantly allowed himself to be led into the smelly boxed-off area. Darkly outlined eyes snapped to them as they entered. All the people gathered in the area formed a dark mass of black clothing and exotically styled hair, sticks of incense burning in each of their hands. The cluster of black slowly circled around them, closing them in. Junior began to feel very anxious, claustrophobia and dizziness enveloping him.
What was he doing? He didn't belong here. Not among these people.
Their dark eyes watched them expectantly, piercing and cold. No emotions played across the sickly pale faces, all as still as if chiseled out of stone. Junior turned carefully to Piff, about to ask him what was going on. But he never got the chance.
Before their eyes even met, the son of Nergal found his lips pressed firmly against Piff's. A thin hand tangled itself in the hair at the base of his skull, the other wrapping tightly around his waist. His eyes wide and disbelieving, Junior attempted to pull away, mumbling protests against the other's warm, dry lips. But he couldn't tear away. Piff's grip was surprisingly strong, unyielding to his weak attempts to escape.
His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. He couldn't decipher one from the other. He felt disgust rising in him. What in Hell was Piff thinking? Was this some kind of trick? It was revolting! They were both male. Judging by the many pairings on television shows and portrayed as the main plot in movies, couples of the same sex, mainly male couplings, were very taboo. It was weak! It was wrong. It was . . .
Warm. A sense of security flooded Junior's being. Was this the ultimate sign of acceptance? He didn't know much about the culture of the Gothics. Not the ones of today, anyways. But it was obviously what this group consisted of, judging by the dark shades and stoic expressions. Was this their way of welcoming him? Dare he say. accepting him?
Suddenly, this kiss he was experiencing wasn't quite so disgusting and wrong. He was desperate. He knew it deep down in his heart. He'd obtained this trait from his father, this yearning for acceptance and companionship. Though it had once been only a temporary feeling, centuries of the same lonely emotion had imprinted it deep in his father's mind, and made it a permanent part of him. And he'd passed it on to his offspring.
Indeed, Junior was yearning. He was pining for friends, almost to a tragic point. It was low, yes. But so far, this was the only show of affection he'd seen in a long time. So, he again submitted. If it was what acceptation, then by God, he liked it.
Before he could return the kiss, however, Piff pulled back, leaving him feeling a sudden cold, emptiness. An apologetic gaze was in his eyes, mournful and full of remorse. Junior was bewildered, and hurt. What exactly was going on?
He looked around him for answers. Smug grins replaced the once painfully serious faces around him. All were staring at him, faces mocking. He felt like crying again. He turned to Piff, eyes searching. But, the boy gave him nothing. He was suddenly alone. Abandoned again.
Suddenly, the tight circle began to loosen, until a break in the crowd appeared in front of them. In the opening stood a girl, grinning sadistically from ear to ear. Her hair was a fiery red, tamed only by a navy blue tie that held it back in a ponytail. Freckles peppered her cheeks and nose, dark against her pale skin. Her dark blue eyes focused on Piff, completely blanking Junior out of the scene. She looked so familiar . . .
"Wonderful performance," she exclaimed loudly as she approached them, "I didn't think you'd have the guts, Piff." She stopped a few feet from them, giving Junior a disgusted look. That sneer, that look of superiority . . . where had he. . . ?
Then he remembered. She was another survivor from winter's camp. Mindy, they called her. Snobbish, arrogant, overly confident in her own sexiness. Hardly an attractive personality. And yet, everyone loved her, with the exception of Mandy. She /was/ popular. She oozed popularity. And everyone wanted to be a part of her twisted circle of friends.
"As a symbol of your previous social status, we have these wonderfully costumed individuals here." With a swift sweep of her hand, she motioned to the darkly dressed folk surrounding them. "In order to become a part of us, you must, as they say, 'cast off' your former darkness." As she spoke, the people shed their black garments, tossing them indifferently into the nearby waste pile, revealing the usual school uniform beneath. "We hate people like you," Mindy continued, her eyes glinting with repressed anger, "So stoic, so utterly depressing, writing poetry and drawing . . ." she spat on the ground, grimacing, "Hate you. So, there's no more of that here. Pastel colors. Pink, preferably."
Piff twitched slightly at this. She noticed.
"IS there a problem?" she asked, voice soft and dangerous. Without waiting for a response, she added, "I didn't think so. So, no more of . . . this." She pointed lightly to his deep purple hair, as if a full gesture might contaminate her. "I don't like it. Or that stupid hat." Again, a half- executed reference to it. "We provide one for you."
With a swift snap of her fingers, one of the nameless children surrounding them approached, bearing a comically tall hat, pink and dotted with smiley faces. Piff looked at it with despair as it was offered to him. Quietly, he accepted it, slowly bringing it down upon his head. His other hat, the black artistic-looking one, fell to the ground, forgotten.
Junior couldn't believe what was happening. He'd just been used. Used as an initiation, to make sure Piff really wanted to join. A dare, of sorts. He felt like a puppy who'd just been kicked. Piff never really wanted to be friends. If not for this . . . club, he probably wouldn't have even spoken to him. He felt like someone had just ripped his heart from his chest, and thrown it on the ground to be trodden upon. He was a nobody.
Mindy was grinning sinisterly again as she watched Piff accept the horrid- looking hat. She paused, finally acknowledging Junior for the first time. "You can leave now," she sneered sharply, making a sweeping motion with her hand as if swatting away a bug. And that was it. His part had finished. That was all he'd been wanted for.
Tears springing to his eyes, Junior turned on his heel and ran. Ran as far away as he could. As he stumbled away, he heard Mindy's snobby voice, smugly stating: "Welcome to I.C.U.P, Piff!"
Then her voice trailed off as the distance between them increased. Junior was quietly sobbing, the suppressed tears escaping. He hated everything.
--~~*~~--
I'm a bad person.
--~~*~~--
Well, there it is. As usual, terribly lazy in the end. All those days spent, considering and thinking. . . for this pathetic thing? Gah. I need to work more. Stop with the lazy. Gar. Where's my usual obsession? I'm falling apart!
Oh yeah. Summary for the homophobic. =P
Okay. Well, Piff took Jr. out back behind the cafeteria, to the hang out of a club. . . thing. He kissed him as a way of proving how desperately he wanted to join. Junior thinks it's real affection, and is hurt when he realizes it's not. This club Piff so desperately wants into is "I.C.U.P", the club of Mindy. She hates dark people, so Piff has to abandon his "former darkness" and embrace the ugly pink hat. Grr. I hate that hat. She tells Junior to leave, and he does. he runs and runs and gets all angsty and teary again.
Yes. Why is the summary better than the story itself? CURSES! Well, there ya go. Geeze, overly-sensitive people. I swear, the actual kiss isn't muhc more graphic than the summary's interpretation of it. Ah, well.
Next chapter soon. It's gonna be fun writing Nergal! ^^
Grr! I hate myself. Me and my laziness and long notes. Review, please.
The reason for the long delay is not only laziness and writer's block. I've been thinking. *gasp!* Yes, it is the apocalypse. I've run through several drafts of this, mostly in my head, a select few on paper. And, I've settled on this, my first impulse. I'm really sorry if it offends some people, but in this chapter, there is a very brief moment of slash. Male/male. It's nothing too serious, or even graphic. But, it's there. And, it inflicts a reaction on one of the participants.
If you're already disgusted, I suggest you skip this chapter. I'll write a brief summary of what went on at the bottom of the chapter. There may be a few light references of it in future chapters, but nothing more graphic than this. And this is just pathetic. Eh. It's just a precaution, I'm not sure how open-minded Grim Adventure's audiences are. Might make a few uncomfortable. I dunno. There is a PG-13 label on this. . .
But anyways. . . yeah. If you feel you can't take it, just scroll to the bottom. I'll explain. Or, just completely skip this chapter. Wait for an update. OR! Stop reading altogether. I really don't mind. This is how I think it should go. It's not a romance, as you will see. It's very brief! But it does have a purpose.
Okay. Enough of that. Geeze. I hate long author's notes, don't you? God. . .
On with the fic.
--~~*~~--
A porcelain-white hand darted out, taking his own into it.
"We need to talk."
Junior was mildly surprised at Piff's boldness. Not too many people would willingly take the hand of one with so many dark rumors floating around about him. Sort of a 'guilty by association' thing. It was a little comforting to know that this boy was willing to sacrifice social status to speak with him.
So, the son of Nergal decided to trust him. He carefully closed his fingers over Piff's, lacing the two pairs of digits neatly together. The smallest of smiles tugged at the corners of Piff's mouth, and he turned to the playground doors.
"Follow me," he said, starting into a slow trot. Junior did as he was instructed, though it was terribly hard to keep from walking ahead. Each step the pale boy took was seemingly measured, slow and deliberate in every stride, as if they were counts in a dance. There was a certain grace about his gait, like watching a stork walk across a pond. Except slower.
They walked through the doors onto the playground, where a sudden rush of blazing sunlight greeted them. Junior squinted, the green shadows of impaired vision playing in front of him, and for a moment he depended completely on Piff to keep him walking in the proper direction.
As he was lead blindly through the playgrounds, many thoughts floated around in Junior's head, a great number of them pertaining to this Piff. His gut was twisting around in itself, tangling knots into his stomach. Something didn't feel right. Though it felt nice to be so openly accepted by this dark boy, he had to be suspicious of his intentions. What exactly was it he wanted to talk about? Mandy? Surely there wasn't much left to say about her.
But then, what else could it be? A naïve thought, but maybe Piff wanted to get better acquainted. Maybe . . . he wanted to be . . . friends. Junior felt warmth fill his chest, spreading throughout his whole body like the blood pumped from his heart. Friends. He liked the thought of that. Finally, someone special to mend the lonely gap in his life. Someone to keep him company when times got hard, someone to shield him from the ignorant cruelty of mankind. Someone to talk to, someone who would listen. Finally. A friend.
Through the warm glow, Junior still felt his pessimistic instincts telling him something was amiss, but he pushed those thoughts hastily to the back of his mind. He didn't want to believe there was anything wrong with Piff. He wanted to trust him, to believe that the little Gothic child truly accepted him. He wanted to keep this fuzzy, cozy feeling. The feeling of being wanted. It made him feel . . . important. Worthwhile.
Junior's train of thought broke off as they slowed to a stop. He briskly glanced around, taking in the shaded area. It was beneath one of the eaves of the school, behind the cafeteria. In front of them loomed a huge wall, boxing around an area meant for garbage cans. Piff tugged his hand away, stalking forward. He glanced back and forth behind his glasses, and then made a swift motion for Junior to come closer. Junior obeyed, curious as to how the purple-haired one planned to get inside.
It was so simple, Junior almost missed it. With one swift swing of his purple boots, Piff kicked off the bolt holding the hinges in place, and the door swung open, the chain and padlock on the opposite side serving as its new hinges. Junior gagged, a hand flying to his nose. The sickeningly sweet mixture of old garbage and incense assaulted his senses, burning his nostrils deep inside.
Piff's hand caught his free one, and he hesitantly allowed himself to be led into the smelly boxed-off area. Darkly outlined eyes snapped to them as they entered. All the people gathered in the area formed a dark mass of black clothing and exotically styled hair, sticks of incense burning in each of their hands. The cluster of black slowly circled around them, closing them in. Junior began to feel very anxious, claustrophobia and dizziness enveloping him.
What was he doing? He didn't belong here. Not among these people.
Their dark eyes watched them expectantly, piercing and cold. No emotions played across the sickly pale faces, all as still as if chiseled out of stone. Junior turned carefully to Piff, about to ask him what was going on. But he never got the chance.
Before their eyes even met, the son of Nergal found his lips pressed firmly against Piff's. A thin hand tangled itself in the hair at the base of his skull, the other wrapping tightly around his waist. His eyes wide and disbelieving, Junior attempted to pull away, mumbling protests against the other's warm, dry lips. But he couldn't tear away. Piff's grip was surprisingly strong, unyielding to his weak attempts to escape.
His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. He couldn't decipher one from the other. He felt disgust rising in him. What in Hell was Piff thinking? Was this some kind of trick? It was revolting! They were both male. Judging by the many pairings on television shows and portrayed as the main plot in movies, couples of the same sex, mainly male couplings, were very taboo. It was weak! It was wrong. It was . . .
Warm. A sense of security flooded Junior's being. Was this the ultimate sign of acceptance? He didn't know much about the culture of the Gothics. Not the ones of today, anyways. But it was obviously what this group consisted of, judging by the dark shades and stoic expressions. Was this their way of welcoming him? Dare he say. accepting him?
Suddenly, this kiss he was experiencing wasn't quite so disgusting and wrong. He was desperate. He knew it deep down in his heart. He'd obtained this trait from his father, this yearning for acceptance and companionship. Though it had once been only a temporary feeling, centuries of the same lonely emotion had imprinted it deep in his father's mind, and made it a permanent part of him. And he'd passed it on to his offspring.
Indeed, Junior was yearning. He was pining for friends, almost to a tragic point. It was low, yes. But so far, this was the only show of affection he'd seen in a long time. So, he again submitted. If it was what acceptation, then by God, he liked it.
Before he could return the kiss, however, Piff pulled back, leaving him feeling a sudden cold, emptiness. An apologetic gaze was in his eyes, mournful and full of remorse. Junior was bewildered, and hurt. What exactly was going on?
He looked around him for answers. Smug grins replaced the once painfully serious faces around him. All were staring at him, faces mocking. He felt like crying again. He turned to Piff, eyes searching. But, the boy gave him nothing. He was suddenly alone. Abandoned again.
Suddenly, the tight circle began to loosen, until a break in the crowd appeared in front of them. In the opening stood a girl, grinning sadistically from ear to ear. Her hair was a fiery red, tamed only by a navy blue tie that held it back in a ponytail. Freckles peppered her cheeks and nose, dark against her pale skin. Her dark blue eyes focused on Piff, completely blanking Junior out of the scene. She looked so familiar . . .
"Wonderful performance," she exclaimed loudly as she approached them, "I didn't think you'd have the guts, Piff." She stopped a few feet from them, giving Junior a disgusted look. That sneer, that look of superiority . . . where had he. . . ?
Then he remembered. She was another survivor from winter's camp. Mindy, they called her. Snobbish, arrogant, overly confident in her own sexiness. Hardly an attractive personality. And yet, everyone loved her, with the exception of Mandy. She /was/ popular. She oozed popularity. And everyone wanted to be a part of her twisted circle of friends.
"As a symbol of your previous social status, we have these wonderfully costumed individuals here." With a swift sweep of her hand, she motioned to the darkly dressed folk surrounding them. "In order to become a part of us, you must, as they say, 'cast off' your former darkness." As she spoke, the people shed their black garments, tossing them indifferently into the nearby waste pile, revealing the usual school uniform beneath. "We hate people like you," Mindy continued, her eyes glinting with repressed anger, "So stoic, so utterly depressing, writing poetry and drawing . . ." she spat on the ground, grimacing, "Hate you. So, there's no more of that here. Pastel colors. Pink, preferably."
Piff twitched slightly at this. She noticed.
"IS there a problem?" she asked, voice soft and dangerous. Without waiting for a response, she added, "I didn't think so. So, no more of . . . this." She pointed lightly to his deep purple hair, as if a full gesture might contaminate her. "I don't like it. Or that stupid hat." Again, a half- executed reference to it. "We provide one for you."
With a swift snap of her fingers, one of the nameless children surrounding them approached, bearing a comically tall hat, pink and dotted with smiley faces. Piff looked at it with despair as it was offered to him. Quietly, he accepted it, slowly bringing it down upon his head. His other hat, the black artistic-looking one, fell to the ground, forgotten.
Junior couldn't believe what was happening. He'd just been used. Used as an initiation, to make sure Piff really wanted to join. A dare, of sorts. He felt like a puppy who'd just been kicked. Piff never really wanted to be friends. If not for this . . . club, he probably wouldn't have even spoken to him. He felt like someone had just ripped his heart from his chest, and thrown it on the ground to be trodden upon. He was a nobody.
Mindy was grinning sinisterly again as she watched Piff accept the horrid- looking hat. She paused, finally acknowledging Junior for the first time. "You can leave now," she sneered sharply, making a sweeping motion with her hand as if swatting away a bug. And that was it. His part had finished. That was all he'd been wanted for.
Tears springing to his eyes, Junior turned on his heel and ran. Ran as far away as he could. As he stumbled away, he heard Mindy's snobby voice, smugly stating: "Welcome to I.C.U.P, Piff!"
Then her voice trailed off as the distance between them increased. Junior was quietly sobbing, the suppressed tears escaping. He hated everything.
--~~*~~--
I'm a bad person.
--~~*~~--
Well, there it is. As usual, terribly lazy in the end. All those days spent, considering and thinking. . . for this pathetic thing? Gah. I need to work more. Stop with the lazy. Gar. Where's my usual obsession? I'm falling apart!
Oh yeah. Summary for the homophobic. =P
Okay. Well, Piff took Jr. out back behind the cafeteria, to the hang out of a club. . . thing. He kissed him as a way of proving how desperately he wanted to join. Junior thinks it's real affection, and is hurt when he realizes it's not. This club Piff so desperately wants into is "I.C.U.P", the club of Mindy. She hates dark people, so Piff has to abandon his "former darkness" and embrace the ugly pink hat. Grr. I hate that hat. She tells Junior to leave, and he does. he runs and runs and gets all angsty and teary again.
Yes. Why is the summary better than the story itself? CURSES! Well, there ya go. Geeze, overly-sensitive people. I swear, the actual kiss isn't muhc more graphic than the summary's interpretation of it. Ah, well.
Next chapter soon. It's gonna be fun writing Nergal! ^^
Grr! I hate myself. Me and my laziness and long notes. Review, please.