Disclaimer: I don't own Rave. Don't sue me. Neither do I own any magazine company.
Author's Note: I dunno why I suddenly got the idea of using butter, especially as an instrument for sex. Much less, Sieg using weird stuffs as beauty products... Gah… Anyways, as usual, a new Snippet contains a new weird and twisted plot
Snippet 4 – A Night with the Butter
His late. He's very late.
Shuda glanced down at his watch again, finding it hard to believe that Sieg, of all people, is late. Very late.
Biting his lower lip, he peered at the crowd, standing outside the fancy restaurant. He's worried sick. It's already 8 in the evening, an hour past the appointed time.
"Damn… Where are you…"
He hugged his coat tighter, body heat not enough against the cold winter wind. And it's not helping him at all.
He fret and fret, fisting and unfisting his hands until finally, he can't take it anymore. It's taking too late, 45 minutes past their date, and his very cold.
Making up his mind, Shuda quickly left the place and head straight the tower where the blue head lives.
---
He stared at himself in front of the mirror.
"I hate my conscience."
Running back to the bathroom, Sieg tried to wash the stinking substance from his face. Again.
Cursing rather colorfully, he tried to rub the yellow substance away, the smell getting onto his nerves. He's gonna die.
"Gawds!" He yelled, frustrated. Throwing the towel down at the sink, he's definitely not going to touch another butter again. And he blame it all on his damn conscience.
'Come on, dear. Try this technique. It work well with all the women! It won't let you down! You can find the page number in the content page.'
"Screw the sales lady, damn it! Why didn't I even consider I'm not a woman in the first place! Stupid woman, stupid magazine, stupid butter! GAH!"
Actually, the butter isn't really that much of a threat. Well, at first that is, if his wretched conscience didn't told him to try the sales lady's advice.
"How in the nine hells' name did this happen again?"
Exactly. How?
He glared at the magazine lying on top of the couch, at the embossed word of 'butter'. Recalling the not-so-convincing words of the saleslady, he asks himself again why he even bother with beauty tips from craps when his natural beauty rival's Adonis?
Oh yeah, the thought that there's nothing to lose. Yeah, right...
"Nothing to lose my ass..."
He glared at the magazine harder, the butter's reek making it colder. With a flick of the wrist, the little pack of papers quickly shot up in a fire, leaving ashes and a scorched mark in the couch.
Sighing, he returned his gaze back at the mirror and stare at his glistening cheeks. He's definitely going to die, either from shame or stupidity.
Not only is he late for their date... no, very late, he corrected himself, but he had also put himself in such pitiful state.
Realizing he'll need more than soap or detergent to get rid of the stink, he went to his study to grab his spell books and find a way to end the terror of the butter.
He left the room, books on hand. He was about to go back up to his room when he heard the front door opening.
Stopping suddenly, Sieg stared at the door and rethought his thoughts again. Run and hide or lock the door and stop whoever it is on the other side.
He thought and thought again. He even consider screaming like a psycho to see if it'll scare whoever it is on the other side. But all he did is just glare at the door, daring it to explode with cold purple eyes. The door did open, though accompanied with a 'Bang'.
Instead of frying the person right on, the books had fallen to the floor with thumps as purple eyes stared back at red.
Why is he surprise again?
---
What he really expected to see once he entered the house was a Sieg eating popcorns, sprawled on the sofa watching one of those drama movies. Sadly, all he got is a Sieg with fallen books around him, looking like he had just gotten poured by a cauldron of oil.
Shuda walked closer until he's only a foot away from the guardian. That was when he smelled the stink.
He sniffed around, forcing Sieg to shrink and back away from the offending nose. Finally, a bright red eye (HA! Shuda only got one eye here!) settled on the bluenette steadily. "Damn it, Sieg. I've been waiting for you for god damn hours and you're here reeking of... shit."
Shit.
Shit, he said.
"Shuda, you're a bastard."
"And you were late for our date. 2 fucking hours late."
Sieg pouted at the red head. Its not his fault, right?
Wait... It is. 'Oh gawds...'
He closes his eyes then opened but closed them again. He avoided the other's stare and instead bore his gaze on the red carpeted floor.
Shuda sighed. This'll be very hard. A pouting Sieg is pretty much whiny, annoying, and most of all, uncooperative. He's not what you think he really is. He ain't cold, silent or mysterious person everyone knew. He's the exact opposite. Bossy, noisy, arrogant and... well, he's the bane of Shuda's existence.
"Listen--"
"No, you listen!"
Shuda blinked and stared at Sieg with confusion. Did he got cut off? Oh no, here he goes... 'Knew it should have brought those earmuffs...'
"Just because I'm late doesn't mean that I've forgotten about it! Because for your very good opinion ala information, I'm reek of shit is because of the idea of seeing you in this freaking date! In fact, this shit isn't even shit! Its butter for fuck's sake! Damn it! I'm sorry, alright! I hate you!"
Again, Shuda just blinked and stared at Sieg who's trying to catch his breath. Well, that's a bit shorter than usual...
"You could have at least just give me a call-"
"If you didn't left your phone here in the first place." Sieg said, finger pointing at the said phone in the coffee table.
Shuda opened his mouth but closed it after a second thought. He glanced at the leather sofa then at Sieg's bedroom door then back to the said man and then at the door again. The idea always work, though its effectiveness keeps lowering the more he abuses the power of it. Its like some RPG abilities.
Cementing his decision to his tombstone, Shuda grab hold of Sieg's hand and pulled him toward the latter's bedroom.
---
"Shuda..."
"Hn..."
"Love you..."
"...Ah."
"...What do you think about it?"
"It's okay, I suppose... Only if it didn't leave some shitty smell."
"Well, its butter, right? What can you do about it?"
"Aside from being a food and lubricant, what else can you think of?"
End of Snippet 4
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Preview: French fries aren't made in France. English muffins aren't made in England. What about Plue?
