Boyfriend?

Lydia's mouth fell open in shock, cheeks flushing pink as the word echoed through her mind, unsure how she was supposed to respond to that. When she had finally voiced her almost-question, she hadn't expected him to be angry. Whilst the idea of her Daddy touching her the way BJ had was viscerally upsetting to the point of making her nauseous, she hadn't expected the teenager to yell at her because of it. But just as she'd started to shrink back from his red face, he said that word…

Boyfriend.

Lydia knew almost nothing about romantic relationships. Mama always told her that she was too young and too sick to think about things like that. Besides, Lydia was a pragmatist‒ what man would voluntarily put up with an invalid when even Mama struggled to care for her some days? No– she had accepted that she would just have to settle for living vicariously through the cartoons she was allowed to watch, and just be happy with her lot in life... and death.

She realized that she was still floating in the doorway, having slipped backwards and half into the wall. BJ wasn't looking at her anymore, going back to his game as though he hadn't just flipped her whole world upside-down. She thought maybe his cheeks were pinker than before– but that could have just been residual anger, and she didn't really want him to stay angry with her. Scurrying out from the wall and towards the boxes, she opened the one closest to her gingerly. It was filled with clothes. Mainly t-shirts with various logos or obscenities written over them. Each garment was carefully folded and placed into the chest of drawers, Lydia occupying herself fully with her task as she bolstered the courage to speak again

When she allowed herself to fantasize about having a boyfriend, it hadn't been like this. This was hardy the picturesque declaration of intent she imagined– flowers and chocolates whilst the sun set, overlooking the cliffs, lying side by side, hand in hand, talking about anything and nothing and everything until he declared that he loved her more than life itself, and that he didn't care if she was ill, because she was worth caring for…

BJ wasn't like that. He called her beautiful, yes, and he kissed her but he never said he loved her, hadn't performed any sweeping romantic gestures. Their conversation was sparse and tense most of the time, and she knew almost nothing about him. He hadn't even asked if she wanted to be his girlfriend! But Mama had told her lots of times that TV wasn't real life. So maybe in real life, girls didn't really have a choice? Maybe there were no chocolates or pretty words, or feeling loved and special? Maybe, this was what love was like, and Mama had been right about her not missing out on anything.

"I… I don't think I understand… Does this mean you… love me?" She finally asked, voice quiet and her attention solely occupied on the jeans she was folding. "I've never had a boyfriend before but that's what mama said should happen." Her fingers tightened in the fabric.

"True love's kiss and riding into the sunset. The end. Happily ever after…" She turned around to face him, hovering up so she could perch delicately on the dresser without her skirt riding up too much. "Is that what you want?"

The cigarette he had lit in a sudden panic after impulsively declaring Lydia his girlfriend fell into his lap. He sputtered, choked on smoke, dropped his controller, and was decimated by alien scum. By the time he recovered from the sudden coughing fit, his face was red, eyes wincing and watery.

Love!?

"What the fuck are you talking about, Lydia?"

That his syllables were chewed spoke to the level of his ire, not to mention the lack of a cutesy nickname.

"That's… That's‒" His tongue tripped and tangled, refusing to outright reject her, but solidly unable to encourage that train of thought.

"That shit's not real."

The irony of a living boy telling a dead girl that an ordinary thing like love couldn't possibly exist was lost on the both of them.

"Fairytales n' 'true love' n' 'soul-mates'... S'all a crock o' shit. Make believe. Pretend." He used play terms she could relate to. "It's just stuff yer Mom n' Dad told ya 'cause the real world is shit, you were sick, n' they wanted ya to give you fucking something to help ya keep fightin' to stay alive."

As he spoke, he crossed the room to where she was settled on his dresser, video game forgotten. God, she was lovely, everything pale and petite and breakable. He thought she looked scared or sad but he was prepared to comfort her now if she fell into tears again. He didn't hesitate to lock her in‒ in case she floated away‒ a beefy arm on either side of her, not yet touching.

"Didn't work, did it?"

A light scowl twisted his lips, but it wasn't aimed at her. He hated these parents of Lydia's that she kept mentioning. How could they have let this happen to her? Did they not give her enough medicine? Not take her to the right doctors? Cunt mother wouldn't even let her dress herself or pick her own bedding. Fucking bitch.

"Yer my girlfriend 'cause I said so. Yer mine. I wanna kiss you n' fuck you n' hold you n' keep you all to myself." He was grunting in her ear by the end, husky and throaty, aching to taste her again. "Is that what you want?"

It didn't really matter. He could teach her to want it. It's not like she was going anywhere.

Lydia had said the wrong thing again. It was clear almost immediately from BJ's suddenly panicked expression and coughing fit. She shouldn't have said anything at all, kept her confused thoughts to herself, seeing as everything she did just made him more angry at her. She flushed as he asked her what she was talking about, dropping her gaze to her lace-covered legs, wondering if she had misunderstood him somehow. Maybe he didn't want to start a relationship with her… maybe she shouldn't have suggested anything at all?

That train of thought halted immediately when he continued.

That shit's not real

Her eyes widened pitifully, glistening with tears as her heart dropped through her stomach onto the floor. Was that true? It couldn't be– she knew Mama and Daddy loved each other, despite their arguments. In all the stories she was told, all of the books and the films and what Mama said… they all talked about true love and happy endings. If that didn't exist, then how would she ever persuade him to marry her one day? He had to be lying– if he wasn't then all of her plans would fall apart.

But what reason would he have to lie to her?

There was a lump in her throat that made it impossible for her to speak, and tears spilled down her cheeks. She wanted to curl her knees to her chest, to make herself small and protected from the hulking man that dwarfed her. The temperature of the whole room seemed to drop, creeping in from frost covered corners though the little poltergeist causing it couldn't feel it.

Then, there were arms on either side of her and she jumped in surprise. He was close, too close, trapping her in, breath hot in her ear and voice filled with… want? It was intimidating, an unrequited feeling that scared her. Still… surely wanting to be with someone this much, to kiss, to hold someone forever– what was that if not love? What other emotion was there to encompass that?

"I…"

Her voice cracked slightly as she leaned back to look at his face. His eyes were dark as they bore into her with such intensity.

"I don't know…"

She went quiet again, thoughts whirring around in her head. He didn't believe in true love or fairy tales but she did. She had to, or else she would spend the rest of the afterlife alone in this house. She would never see Mama again, she would never feel the warmth of the sun or enjoy the taste of a home cooked meal. This was her only chance and she wouldn't be able to persuade him to marry her if she didn't believe in it herself. No… he was wrong, and what they were feeling had to be love, or at least a form of it. He just didn't know it yet.

She was trembling as she focused her attention back on him, biting her lip before carefully nodding once. She could be his girlfriend, be patient for now while he figured it out. Him wanting her to be in his life was enough for now. Then, eventually, she would be free.

It was so tiny, her nod, that BJ almost thought he imagined it. Yes. She was saying yes. She wanted to be his girlfriend! This was permission enough for him. Giddy, too excited to restrain himself once he realized, he swept down to take her in a heated kiss, pulling her flush to him across the surface of the dresser by one burly arm. This was not like the timid first kiss he gave her last night, when she was barely conscious and he half-expected her to evaporate from his arms.

No, she was solid and tangible and existed in that moment just as much as he did. It was slow but intense, his lips moving insistently over hers, tongue demanding she open up for him and let him taste. Lydia didn't need to know what to do because his mouth knew everything and was perfectly adept at bullying hers into compliance.

"Don't worry, Lyds," he panted into her neck when his hungry teeth moved there, mitts petting heavy over her dress and along her legs. "I'll treat ya good. Ain't I been takin' care o' ya good so far? You tell me if ya need somethin' n' ya don't got it, okay? N' I'll make it happen…"

This was a far cry from the boy who sliced her throat and threatened to destroy all of her worldly possessions. Having her agree to be his, verbally or not, had reinforced the strange protective feelings he felt for the ghost. He made decent enough money eating insects and selling weed. He could afford to buy his creepy girl little trinkets if it would make her smile and twirl for him the way he liked. Girls liked shit like that.

He was getting too excited. His teeth dug into her neck hard enough to make her whimper, and he pulled back to take a breath, calm himself before he fucked her right then and there. Lydia was not a slutty cheerleader trying to make her prick boyfriend jealous by fucking the school thug. She deserved a little more consideration.

"C'mere," he hauled her away with him without waiting for an answer. "You can do that shit later. I wanna show y'somethin'."

His girl needed to not be so sheltered. After dropping her on the mattress and placing a different disc in the console, he resettled, arranged her on his lap to his liking, and handed her the controller.

"This game's called God of War." A nasty smirk darkened his face as the opening credits started up and he felt a rush of nostalgia from ripping apart all the mythological beasts in the campaign. "Yer gonna play as Kratos. Kratos is a badass. If yer Ma knew you were playin' this? She would lose her shit."

Hopefully, this knowledge would make the experience more fun for Lydia. Then again, her devotion to her Mother was sickening to a baffled and apathetic BJ. Nevertheless, if his girl was going to be spouting all this shit about "true love" and "riding off into the sunset" he was going to need to yank those rose-colored glasses off somehow. Violent video games seemed like a good start.

His lips were on hers before she even had time to process it. She supposed that she shouldn't necessarily be surprised by that– BJ seemed to be a very physical guy, and declarations like hers always seemed to be followed by a kiss in all the films she'd seen.

It was… intense. His mouth was insistent against hers, lips and tongue dominating her in a way they hadn't the previous evening. Yet, in a strange way, she thought she rather liked it. Despite being unhygienic, and wet, and she still didn't know what to do with her hands… this was nice.

His hands started to pet over her legs, sneaking higher than she necessarily felt comfortable with before he spoke. He sounded… really happy. It just confirmed what she had thought earlier and she couldn't quite help but smile as he nipped possessively at her throat. She let her head fall to the side to give him room. There was that strange feeling again, that tingling sensation in her stomach that made her feel that perhaps all of this was building to something but she didn't know what

"BJ," she whimpered, suddenly wanting him to stop. This was veering far too much into last night's territory, and she was scared of how she was reacting to the mixture of his sweet words and kisses. His teeth bit down harder on her neck and a small pained noise escaped.

Then he stepped away and she was left panting on the dresser, skirt hiked up, cheeks pink and lips swollen. Though she could not see them, she could feel tender marks sucked onto her neck, and bruising teeth marks slowly fading from her porcelain skin. She quickly righted herself best she could before she was once more picked up by her boyfriend and brought to the couch.

She curled up against his chest the moment he arranged them on the mattress, relaxing in apparent safety of his good mood and warm arms. This was what she imagined when she thought about having a boyfriend. Cuddles and relaxing moments and gentle kisses. She missed the nasty smirk on his face as he passed her a controller. She looked at it in confusion for a moment, before realising he expect her to play

"I don't think this is…" she started, balking at the idea of playing something mama would so obviously disapprove of. But then BJ's arms tightened around her and she didn't really think that saying no was an option. At least, not if she wanted to keep this pleasant mood he was in.

She watched the opening credits, before fumbling her way through the tutorial with clumsy, inexperienced fingers. She squealed at her first kill, turning her head from the screen to press against his chest to hide from the violence on the screen. But she kept playing with his encouragement, slowly gaining confidence at the controls. It took another half an hour of playing before she realised that the reaction she had towards each of her kills – the wincing, and shielding her eyes, or turning away – wasn't because of any emotional response she was having.

She wasn't really scared, or disgusted. She was… actually really enjoying herself. It was… freeing in a way to just hack and slash at all her enemies on the screen, to tear them apart. And no-one was telling her off for that, or saying she was too young, or too fragile to see such sights. No one telling her that 'of course you were frightened – you're just a little girl, but don't worry, Mama will protect you'.

She almost threw the controller away at that thought, unaware that she had just gone from grinning at the TV, to looking completely stricken. Her fingers froze and she watched her character falling to the floor dead.

"Sorry," she whispered, not really sure who the apology was directed to. She shuffled back properly onto BJ's lap, not having realised that she had crept forward as she played in an attempt to get closer to the screen.

"I don't think I'm very good at that game. Maybe you should play. I wouldn't want to get nightmares."

BJ was having a grand ole time watching Lydia butcher her way through Athens, way more fun than he would have had if he were playing himself. He had never met anyone more in need of violent video game therapy than sweet, polite little Lydia. Where else would she ever get the opportunity to rip a man in two with her bare hands? It was also particularly novel to watch a girl play video games. He knew they did, but catching one out in the wild with her hands on a console was a difficult feat.

He enjoyed the feel of her cuddled in his lap, the way she relaxed, the distraction of the game letting him pet up and down her leg from ankle to thigh without her tensing up on him like she normally might.

In the past, he had girls beg to be his girlfriend; blow up the phone all hours of the night, make him ugly little cards and leave gifts in his locker. The desperation and clinginess always turned him off, pushed him to treat his ex-conquests cruelly in hopes they would fuck off and leave him alone already. They only wanted him for his weed, or to beat up other dudes for them.

Lydia… Lydia was in a different category all on her own. He wasn't even sure if she necessarily liked him. No, for once, he was the one unsure of where he stood and reacting poorly because of it. It didn't help that his rash, bullying nature led him to keep making poor choices with his adorable roommate. He wasn't stupid. He knew he hadn't given her much of a choice in whether or not she wanted the title of "his"... but he was too selfish to care. She was his. It's just how it was.

"I don't think I'm very good at that game – maybe you should play. I wouldn't want to get nightmares."

He blinked, confused. She had been kicking so much ass!

"Whaddya talkin' 'bout, Lyds!? Before ya died, you were on a bloodthirsty killstreak! Ain't ya havin' fun?"

With a meaty hook, he forced her delicate chin up to look him in the eye, only to frown sincerely at the ashen, horrified look on her face. Maybe she wasn't having as much fun playing as he thought she was.

"Oh," his expression softened. "Oh‒ okay. You don't gotta play if ya don't want. I just thought… fuck it."

He felt like a jerk and a dumbass now. Obviously, she wasn't having any fun at all and he was just projecting onto her. Even more likely, she was probably just pretending to have a good time to make him happy. That made him feel like even more of a jerk. He took the controller and continued playing from where she left off with lackluster energy, a funny sort of frown still pulling at his lips. He wasn't securing her to his lap anymore. She could float away if she wanted.

"I start school tomorrow," he informed with a dour expression, pausing the game to light the forever-cigarette that always seemed to be hanging from the corner of his mouth. "Means attic's all yours 'til I get back. Y'gonna be a good girl fer me or am I gonna come back to kitty n' rainbow doodles all over my stuff?"

He was mostly teasing, and despite likely being technically older than him, Lydia was still very much a young girl in many ways. He couldn't help a little natural trepidation at trusting her alone in his masculine territory.

When he questioned her with his voice raised, her chest tightened, and she looked up at him with big eyes fearful he would snap again. His temper did seem to be a fragile thing, after all. It was quite difficult to tell the difference from when he was genuinely exclaiming to when he was upset with her. She hoped it was the latter.

He took her chin, tilting it up as he went to speak again, but then, his expression softened. His deep brows stayed furrowed but he seemed less angry and more concerned. Did she do something wrong? He went on as if trying to find some excuse and she noticed how his eyes averted, as if looking for the words in thin air. She gave him the controller with a small "I'm sorry" and the silence settled in.

The ghost watched with newfound courage as he slaughtered characters with rapid fire, arms lax as he played, the security he once had in his grip loosening quite a bit. But what kept her anxious, was the fact that he didn't speak. There were silences between them once and a while but this one seemed different, more uncomfortable.

That was before she felt the low rumble in his gut, and heard his gruff voice speak up with a glum undertone. School. Right. That still happened for the living. So much had happened these past few days that she barely remembered that she would get a few hours to herself in the attic in the coming weeks.

Of course she would miss BJ‒ he was her boyfriend, afterall, and the only person who could see or speak to her in the last ten years, but part of her thought the peace and quiet would be nice. When he teased her, part of her didn't pick up on the sarcasm.

"I-I won't do that." She defended, as if such an accusation was beyond her. "But if it's alright… I would like to get everything unpacked tomorrow." She looked around at the room, most of the decor still in boxes.

She was excited. Mama never let her decorate. And while BJ's stuff wasn't her personal style, she was excited that he put her in charge of something so important. Though he didn't seem too thrilled that he would be going to school instead of unpacking. In light of that, she tried to make some conversation. She had always wanted to go to school. He was lucky in her eyes. So, with the courage of a mouse, she spoke up.

"Are you excited for school?" There was a beat, and no answer. She continued. "I always wanted to go… it seemed fun. But Mama also said that I'd get even sicker, and it would be better if I just stayed home, and learned with her…"

For lack of conversation, the girl added, "She was a good teacher."

It's true. Mama was the only teacher she ever knew and she didn't complain. It was nice to have her mama's care and knowledge as opposed to being forced into a classroom with a bunch of kids she didn't know‒ that's what the programs she watched always portrayed. The new kids were always nervous and made fun of in the new schools; but here, she was safe. She didn't have any peers or imposing teachers. Only her mama.

"School blows. Big fat pimply cock." BJ was in a solidly foul mood but it was tempered by her light, pleasantly cool weight on his thigh. "Ain't never been to an all-boys school neither. Have you ever heard o' anythin' stupider in your life? Or‒ uh‒ you know what I mean."

Grumbling, he fell back flat on his mattress, arms behind his head, glaring at the ceiling.

"Whose fuckin' genius idea was it to take all the boys n' girls in this dumbass hick town n' round 'em all up in seperate cages? As if some skirt or lack thereof is gonna have any effect on my grades. Pft. Fuckers." It occurred to him then that Lydia must have had a very warped understanding of what school was like due to the unfortunate series of events that was her life and afterlife.

"Hand me my box, I'll pack a bowl n' tell you all about the government sanctioned child labor that is the American educational system." Just because he wasn't willing to be one of their sheep didn't mean he wasn't smart. BJ just wasn't willing to let them define him by their standards.

"From the minute you can walk n' talk, they'll shove you in a room with twenty ta thirty other brats yer age. Then, they pit you against each other." His voice was deadly serious, gaze grim on his ghostly girlfriend while he filled up his glass bowl with green herb.

"Battle royale style but with textbooks. They wanna know who's 'smarter'. They give you 'tests'‒ over n' over n' over n' over again until ya wanna blow yer fuckin' brains out, n' this is how they judge if yer good 'nuff or not. They'll have ya convinced that whether or not yer gonna be happy n' successful after you get outta there is all dependent on whether or not you pass their tests. It's bullshit, Lyds. S' a fuckin' brainwashin' scam and yer lucky ya never got forcefed the koolaid."

Lucky? Did he just call her lucky for dying? Grimacing, he hit the bowl, then passed it her way in case she was interested.

"Didn't mean it like that. Just‒ it's not anythin' ya wanna do… but I mean… if ya wanna take a crack at doin' my homework for me whenever I get some, knock yerself out."

When he spoke up, Lydia listened, curious as to what he would say on the matter. Though, as she thought, he wasn't very pleased with the way school went about. As he fell back on the bed with a thud, she had to steady herself so as not to fall back on the bed like her living partner. However, as he continued, she shifted off his leg, promptly sitting criss-cross at his side.

While she didn't have much of an understanding of school, he was right. A separate school for boys and for girls seemed a bit silly if she was honest. Then again, she wasn't completely sure of the standards for such things. Obediently, picked up the small box per his request, handed it to him and watched as he packed down the same plant as yesterday. He didn't even miss a beat.

"Then, they pit you against each other."

"R-really?"

Her eyes widened at the prospect, picturing something much more violent thanks to his phrasing and delivery. He continued, elaborating on how bad it really was. Getting more and more passionate with each syllable it seemed. His eyes flashed with something comparable to anger and excitement, as if he'd been waiting for the chance to talk about this with anyone who asked.

That gusto diminished though as he mentioned how lucky she was‒ and at that, her own heart sunk a bit too. She was lucky. She had a wonderful childhood… aside from being sick so much. Yet, she ached to be alive again, to be with her mama and do everything a normal girl could do. Even if life wasn't everything she dreamed, she still yearned for what could have been.

His silence dragged on as he inhaled smoke and offered her the glass. She declined, deciding that after last night she didn't wanna risk it. It had made her so sleepy afterwards and didn't need to be so in the middle of the day. He explained his words, seemingly as uncomfortable as she about the whole aspect of her death.

"I‒ it's okay. You're probably right… I learned a lot when I was‒ uhm, alive, so I'd love to help with your homework," she said, offering a small smile when he looked up at her. Maybe this new arrangement wouldn't be so bad. She could learn what the actual school taught, and have a boyfriend who would believe in love, like her. One day.

"Do you have everything ready for tomorrow?" She asked despite his lament about going just a few moments ago. Maybe she could help him get excited for it. It would be fun. If her mama could make the millions of doctor's visits and staying inside most of the time fun, then she could make school fun for BJ. He would be happy, and then she would be too.

He snorted at the easy‒ eager‒ concession to doing his homework, poking his tongue out teasingly in her direction.

"Nerd."

She was sure as shit bound to do a better job than him on the menial busy work. There was a healthy weight to some of the boxes he remembered carrying down to the basement and he realized then that it must have been books.

"Do you have everything ready for tomorrow?"

With a groan, he threw his arm over his head, releasing marijuana smoke through his nostrils.

"You sound like Ruth."

He had the blazer for his uniform, which had to be specially tailored to fit his larger than average frame but they weren't getting him in those stupid short slacks. He refused. Jeans or nothing. He was more than ready to play hardball on this one, see who stuck it out longer; him, or the sorry fucks responsible for his education.

"Prolly be smart t'pack a lunch or somethin'," he grumbled dismally, with no intention of packing himself a lunch. "Cafeteria food blows."

Digging through his pockets, he dropped the contents next to Lydia for her perusal, continuing to lay lazy and despondent about the made bed‒ cozy compared to how naked he usually kept his mattress. In his pockets was a swiss army knife, the same wicked thing he used to carve his initials into the attic, a lighter, a pack of cigarettes, and a one-hitter meant for smoking marijuana that resembled a cigarette from afar.

"That right there's all I need fer school."

That, and the miniature scale he kept in his backpack for weighing and selling on the go. Suddenly bored with the topic, BJ turned onto his side facing her, head resting in his palm as he gave her a lazy once-over. How was she so cute all the time?

"Hey Lyds," he smirked, then waggled his brows, "wanna make out sommor?"

She stung her tongue back out at him despite always being chastised for doing that when her mama was around, and that his attention was elsewhere. She at least felt she had one this teasing match, even if her cheeks were a dusty pink after his good-natured name calling.

She assumed he had most things, but maybe he would need help finding which books he would need for class, and while it wasn't much, she was up for the challenge.

"I-I could help make a lunch… I mean, I know that breakfast didn't go as planned…" She looked down at her hands fiddling in her skirts, remembering the exhausting mess. "But I could make lunch tomorrow."

As he emptied his pockets, she looked at it all in wonder and slight confusion. Cautiously, she observed a few of the things, including the knife that had cut into her just yesterday‒ he really did carry it everywhere. However, in all of that, she didn't see one thing that she thought was necessary for school.

"But what about your books?"

He seemed to barely hear her question as he asked her if she wanted to go back to their prior activity, to which she averted her gaze back to the ground. Did she really want to do that again? It was exciting, making her stomach feel like it was doing cartwheels, but she was hesitant as well. She didn't want a repeat of last night. So she merely looked back up and stared at him with a perplexed look, as if he might have the answer. Of course, she was returned with only an expectant‒ if not slightly pleading‒ gaze.

"I dunno…"

She took a deep breath but that gave no clarity to her. Maybe if it didn't go too far it'd be okay. Besides, she didn't want to be on the receiving end of his bad temper, she gave a slight nod with a soft, "I guess."

And that seemed to be enough for him as he fixed her body to his liking and pressed a kiss down on her lips, not breaking away for a moment of breath. He seemed to know what all to be doing, but she sat there once again, trying to figure out where to put her hands, how to move her lips, it was all very confusing for her. But he seemed to enjoy taking the lead for these things, and teaching her, so she didn't mind. He would stop if she asked… right?

Score. He didn't actually think Lydia would concede to his joking suggestion, and crooned victoriously on the inside at her easy compliance. He made short work of closing the distance between them, pulling her in so that she was laying on her side as well. For now, BJ was perfectly happy to play patient with her, teach her how to kiss and touch. It wasn't like she was going anywhere. The way they were going, she would be on her knees sucking him off like a pro in no time.

For now, he regarded her with extreme caution. While his lips whispered over hers, a large palm rested flat on her cheek, the tips of his fingers sometimes reaching to brush her soft baby hairs. When her lips parted, so did his. A cold, pink little tongue curiously met his top lip and he returned its greeting with his own, less curious and more confident but every bit as gentle.

"Havin' fun?" He chuckled, taking a break to pull back and watch with amusement as her long-dead cheeks began to pinken the same shade as her lips. She seemed so nervous‒ but still into it, clearly. Shy little wallflowers like this usually wouldn't even come within a fifteen foot radius of him, making her a novel change from his usual type.

"Ain't got nothin' t'be scared of," he murmured before taking her mouth again, just a little more forcefully, scooting that much closer until more of her was touching him. "Ain't gonna hurt'cha. Last night was jus'... I's jus' excited."

It seemed like a poor excuse. His big hand trailed down to her throat, the thumb stroking over where his knife had cut into her. His frown deepened at the memory. He had not been very kind to Lydia thus far, had he? And here she was making him breakfast and doing things for him and making out with him and agreeing to be his girlfriend and being so cute‒

"M'sorry," he blurted out, then flushed when he realized he would have to explain himself. "Fer uh… fer bein' a dick. M'sorry. M'not good at makin' friends."

There, that should be sufficient. Now he didn't feel like the world's biggest asshole anymore.

His hands rested on her cheeks, cradling them in warmth, much like her mama would do when she worried over her. But BJ's was different. While her mama's touch was loving and doting, his touch was more alive, fiery‒ prompting her to ignite a spark of her own. His lips fell onto hers and she opened her mouth as he had done before, shyly poking her own tongue out to swipe at the top of his lip.

And there it was again, the taste of burnt grass and mintiness. She hadn't tasted anything for so long that it was enticing‒ despite her clumsy workings and maneuverings as he pushed his tongue to her own lips, nearly making hers retreat back so he could take the lead once again.

But he chuckled, breaking away for a moment, her cheeks deepening in color as she looked at him dazedly and nodded in silent response to his question. She was certain she shouldn't like such a thing but it made the tickle of excitement burn in her, and he wasn't hurting her yet. Maybe it would be okay.

He even proved her worries wrong with his words, seeing the worry etched into her doll-like features. He was quick to claim her lips once again, not even giving her a chance to respond as he kissed with little restraint. A soft gasp escaped as he tugged her closer, her hands now weakly pressed to his chest, curled as if debating whether she should fight it or ask for more.

He traced her neck, frowning at where he had cut her yesterday as a big finger ghosted the area. Before she could react, he blurted out an apology, immediately followed by a red face.

"W-what?" It took her a moment to register the hasty apology before she recalled what had happened last night from her love-riddled mind.

"Uhm, I'm sorry too… I didn't… I didn't mean to make you so mad." She admitted ashamed.

Thinking back to last night, her already pink cheeks deepened as she remembered the pleasure… and the hurt. It felt so good and so bad. Did it always feel that way? Her legs squeezed together involuntarily, making her shake her head slightly to try and rid herself of the thoughts.

"Nah," he shut that down quick, refusing any apologies she had to offer. "Ya didn't do nothin'. I fucked up. I's mad at m'self."

He was regretting bringing up the subject to begin with but couldn't go on romping around with her the way they were without getting it off his chest.

"I shouldn'a done that. Shoulda asked you t'be my girlfriend first all proper like. Wasn't thinkin."

Making a face, he shook his head as if shaking the memory from his being, a shag of golden hair left falling over her face when he was done, blue-green eyes burning intensely down on her.

"Now, you don't think none on it no more n' I won't neither."

Once she agreed, a heavy weight lifted off his shoulders, a bright smile lighting his face. He swooped down to resume their kissing with renewed fervor, yet maintained the gentility he had established for this session. There was a learning curve with Lydia. He couldn't just go at her the way he did the average teenage slut or there would be tears and guilt and misunderstandings all around.

She was his girlfriend and dead and an ultra-super-mega virgin. Best to give her time. Teach her what was what and let her come to him. In the spirit of that, he cut her mouth off from his just as soon as she started getting more confident with her tongue, tiny cold digits playing with the neckline of his T-shirt.

"Tha's 'nuff o' that," he beamed, leaving her with one last cutesy peck on the forehead before sitting back up and returning to the virtual world contained within his Xbox.

"‒ not unless yer wantin' t'learn some new tricks."