mi amor, mi mal
((my love, my evil))
Todd Casil – or Squee, as he was also called – wondered how he ended up where he was. Well, not physically, exactly; currently he was in his backyard on the tire swing, listening to Pepito laugh insanely at the idea of puppies being lazy. No, Todd had the distinct concept of where he was physically; it was the mental thing he was worried about. Schmee had stopped telling him to burn down building since he was eleven, and the Crazy Neighbor Man had been gone years before that, so Todd knew he should be doing better now.
That wasn't the case, though.
Because Todd was currently thinking that the Alter Boy of Doom was looking pretty good.
Of course, Pepito had been his only friend since grade school, and likewise. Still, Todd thought it was pretty screwed up to harbor feelings for the Antichrist, what with him being evil and all. And since Pepito had decided to sleep-over at Todd's house every night for the past month, he had a lot of time to think about it.
"Do you still have those Popsicles, amigo?"
They had, at sometime during Squee's inner-monologue, left the backyard and made their way into the kitchen. Todd blinked slowly at Pepito, processing what he had said.
"Oh, yeah, sure… help yourself."
Time had passed, clothes outgrown, childhood toys pushed back into closets and crayons made way for ink and paint. They were both seventeen and in high school now; Squee was going by 'Todd' more and Pepito was much taller than he was when he was seven, and yet the Antichrist still needed to stand on tip-toes to reach the Popsicle box in the back of the freezer. So much time had passed, and yet it seemed like only yesterday when Pepito had shown up in Squee's class, all hypnotizing eyes and little black boots.
((My name? I am known by many names. Son of the Dark Prince, Child of Darkness. Some call me the Altar Boy of Doom. Others will know me as the second coming of damnation. My mom calls me Pepito.))
So much, and yet not enough.
"Is this a new painting, amigo?" Pepito again, standing in front of the canvas in Todd's room. The one with the dark red sky with the black clouds and the Four Riders of the Apocalypse; the ground covered in hellfire and dead flowers and screaming bodies. And two figures, standing in the middle. Mi amor…
"Err, oh yeah." Todd replied, feeling a little embarrassed. He hurried past Pepito and grabbed the canvas, shoving it hastily under the bed. "It… it's not done yet." Todd knows that Pepito hates flowers. He thinks they're defiant. Whenever they go to the park to swing or laugh at squirrels, Pepito always yanks the flowers out by their roots and stomps on them, screaming at them, ripping them into pieces. Todd and Pepito don't go to the park a lot anymore.
"I see that. It's excelente. Reminds me of last years' Thanksgiving." Smirking, Pepito sprawled out on Squee's bed with the Ninja Turtles sheets, black boots crossed at the ankles. ((My heart, my love, evil of my evil.)) Todd smiled softly.
"Thanks…" He murmured, moving across the room to sit at his desk. Opened the drawer, looked under all the unfinished paintings and drawings and broken pencils with no erasers; found the notebook. Every page has on it a picture of Him, because Squee knows that the only way to deal with obsession is to dwell in it. Schmee told him that. Lead wears down over time; the pictures are smudged and wrinkled and perfect and Todd decides that he'll touch them up tomorrow with his ink pen.
"Do you want to watch a movie?"
"Sí, seguro."
Todd came to the conclusion, finally, that he didn't have a normal life. Here he was, lying on the floor of his room, watching 'The Lion King' with the Antichrist, and every time Pepito would reach for the popcorn their arms would brush against each other.
((No, Daddy! No! He's weird, and scary! And I don't like him! And he's the son of Satan!))
((altere a muchacho de la condenación))
((el segundo venir del damnation))
((mi amor...))
Things change, Todd thought, glancing over at Pepito, whose eyes were fixed on the television. "Um, h-hey, Pepito?" He began, his voice fumbling and stuttering like it did when he was a tiny, Squee-sized person.
"Yes?"
"Can I kiss you?" Todd asked, aware that Pepito's eyes had turned away from the television, smiling ((niño de Satan))and watching him with that thin veil of boredom over his expression.
"If you have to." He replied casually, and Todd did have to. He leaned forward, and their lips met. It lasted only a moment before Pepito broke off, cackling hysterically as the hyenas killed Scar. The kiss was forgotten. Todd decided that, at the moment, it was enough.
el extremo
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(A/N)
Yeah, don't ask what possessed me to write this… I was bored, okay? I read a Squee / Pepito story (granted, a poorly written one), and it made me think about what an actual relationship between them would be like. And then, BAM! I wrote this. Pretty accurate, I think.
-Spanish to English-
Mi amor, mi mal : "My love, my evil."
Excelente : "Excellent."
Sí, seguro : "Yeah, sure."
Altere a Muchacho de la Condenación : "Alter Boy of Doom."
El segundo venir del damnation : "The second coming of damnation."
Mi amor : "My love."
Niño de Satan : "Son of Satan."
El extremo : "The end."
This isn't a spectators sport, people. Review or die trying. Peace.