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Chimneys 2

DUNCAN POV

It had been about three weeks since my first encounter with Gwen. She wasn't anything like the hot but bitchy ladies I always seemed to be involved with, but I still found myself thinking about her way more than I should've. I doubt I would ever complain about holding a chick up against a tree, because, I mean, primal instincts and nature and all, but if I'd tried that with Courtney (she hates me but she still totally wants me) she would've complained about the water and bark and bugs and would've yelled at me for smoking, probably for hours. Gwen was mad I wasn't taking our situation seriously, but really, I don't take anything seriously. It's one of my charms.

Another one of my charms is being criminally active, and because stuck-up, preppy babes are really into 'bad boys', I'm frequently reminded of how charming I am-if ya know what I mean.

Don't get me wrong, I don't do what I do for the chicks. They're just a bonus that comes along with my lifestyle. I simply don't like being told what to do, by anyone, ever. Now when it's a bossy girl in a tight skirt, that's a different story. But when it's someone who thinks that they're above me on some level and they think that gives them the right to shove me around, that's when I have a problem. I spent my whole childhood with a gritty, calloused old man stepping on me every chance he got; I wasn't about to live the rest of my life that way. Sometimes I think that's the reason I pick on the nerds, but that's when I have to stop thinking. I can't have morals getting in the way of my fun, can I? The nerds of today are the rule-makers of tomorrow, and there's nothing I hate more than rules.

I do what I do because I have an insatiable urge to break the rules and challenge the authorities.

And because doing illegal stuff is fun.

That's why I was in the middle of spray-painting my name, not my real name, obviously, under the bridge. I shook my paint can, deducing that it was about half full, and kept painting letters. I began on the letter F when I heard rocks clattering off the side of the bridge. I looked up to see black clothes, white skin, and blue lips.

"Sunshine!" I greeted happily, "What brings you down here?"

GWEN POV

It had been an emotional roller coaster of a day when I read some good advice: "Never, and I mean never, re-read old conversations with someone who used to mean the world to you, or you will end up sobbing on the floor eating straight-up hot cocoa power". The irony of this was that I had just eaten half a carton of ice cream and had bits of black tear lines streaming down my face. Why? I had happened across a pez dispenser TBWBMH had once held. The day before, a similar occurrence had happened when I heard a snippet of a song TBWBMH once sang to me.

I know what you're thinking! You're thinking that this girl is pathetic. And I couldn't have agreed more. But the thing was, TBWBMH took the strings inside me, and he twisted them up into tangled knots and bows, cinching them tight and holding them like cement and glue. I was simply in the process working those knots free. Sometimes this is an easy job, but other times, it's as difficult as washing every last fiber of gum from a frayed string. I guess this was one of those times.

When someone hurts you, really hurts you, it rarely stops hurting completely. There's always going to be a small piece of you that throbs with a familiar pain when you pass that certain restaurant or smell that special flower or watch that stupid movie.

Duncan's words had made that very clear to me. Although he was a stranger to me, he wasn't a stranger of heartbreak, and he summarized that terrible feeling we all have but can't seem to express: "I don't think you can ever really get over someone. I think you just have to man up and push through it until it doesn't...hurt so bad."

Speaking of Duncan, I hadn't stopped thinking of him for weeks. Usually my mind was swarmed with TBWBMH, but suddenly minuscule clips of Duncan had been interjected into my brain, popping up at the most inconvenient of times. The week before, during history, I read all about the Mohawk Native Americans while I was supposed to be filling out a quiz. A few days later, during math, I changed all the word problems from apples to earrings and peanuts to cigarettes.

And speaking of cigarettes, I'd really had an itch. Sadly, I'd run out that morning, only adding to the tears and the chocolate ice cream stains, to create a pretty shitty day.

I suppose that was why I'd been out that evening. I was trying to escape the sad atmosphere I'd created in my dark room, but I also had a feeling that I was looking for something. The day had seemed warm enough, so I left my coat on the floor of my room, opting for a cardigan instead. After lacing up my boots, I set off on my quest to find whatever it was I'd lost.

But who would've guessed that something was Duncan? Or cigarettes? Honestly, it might have been both. Either way, my heart leapt in my chest when I saw him standing under the bridge, a cigarette in one hand and a can of spray paint in the other.

When he saw me, his face broke out into a bright smile, giving me a foreign warm feeling in my chest that I wasn't sure I liked. "Sunshine!" he greeted, "What brings you down here?"

Cigarettes. You.

I ignored his question and grinned. "Is that the delinquent? Who let you out of your cage?"

Duncan grasped at his heart dramatically. "Ouch! You got me, Sunshine, right in the heart."

I giggled and walked over to where he stood, surveying the wall in front of him. I squinted at the letters and put a hand to my chin. "I find this piece bland and one dimensional," I told him in my best stodgy old professor voice.

"Ha-ha," he fake laughed, amusement playing on his grin. "I'm not done yet, critic."

"Are you... 'scruf'?" I asked. It might've seemed like a genuine question if it hadn't been for my tone, which was far beyond teasing at this point.

Duncan's face reddened. "Scruffy, when I'm done."

"Who's Scruffy?"

"My pet tarantula!"

"That's rad!" I yelled excitedly. It echoed through the concrete tunnel we stood inside.

"Shhh!" he half-scolded half-chuckled, "Do you want me to get caught?"

I thought this over and grinned mischievously. "What do I get if I say no?"

Duncan's mouth opened in surprise. "What do you- what do you get?" he sputtered, "You get not tossed in that river over there! That's what you get, Pasty!"

I started laughing and he couldn't help but join in. He offered me a cigarette and I gladly accepted. After that, I sat on the dry concrete floor of the bridge and sent tiny, burning leaves spiraling out into the calm river current while Duncan worked on his vandalistic art piece. And when I watched him paint, I fell into watching his figure as well. He occasionally swung his limp, long green mohawk hair out of his eyes, he tugged on his belt loop when he was thinking, and he bit his tongue when he was really concentrating on details. I watched his tongue glide over his lip ring and wondered if that ever got in the way when he kissed.

As he was putting the final touches on the Y, I got curious. "Can I paint something?" I asked.

Duncan just snorted and went back to his wall.

I frowned. "What?"

"I'm almost out," he declared without looking away.

"So let's go buy some! There's a hardware store on 6th that stays open late!" I suggested excitedly.

Again, he snorted. "Sunshine, Sunshine, Sunshine..." he crooned mockingly.

"What?!"

Duncan turned to roll his eyes at me. "You see, Sunshine, the thing about vandalism with spray paint is that you can't do it with store bought paint. It has to be stolen, or it doesn't count as criminal. You might as well be a beanie-wearing hipster with thick glasses and thrift store plaid pants making an artistic statement about world hunger, or some shit, if you're gonna buy spray paint!"

My eyes narrowed and I said, "World hunger is a serious issue!"

"Nerd," he smirked, going back to his painting.

Normally, I would've been ticked if someone was making light of a serious situation like that, but I found I could easily forgive Duncan. In fact, there didn't seem to be anything to forgive. That was just how Duncan was. I smiled.

"Don't worry, one of these days I'll take you to get a proper criminalized can of paint," he said, still looking at his masterpiece.

"I didn't want to do it to be a criminal," I insisted sourly, "I just wanted to doodle something."

"Like what? A flower? A turtle?" he scoffed.

I took a drag of cigarette and blew it in his direction. "You'll never know now!"

He raised an eyebrow. "Now I'm curious!"

"Exactly," I said, grinning.

Duncan just smiled and shook his head. He stepped back and dusted off his hands, looking over his freshly painted piece. 'SCRUFFY' was written in bubbly green letters across the tunnel wall.

"Finished?" I asked. He nodded dumbly, staring at the wall for any imperfections. Now, it wasn't the most incredible spray paint artwork I'd seen, but it still looked great and the shading was amazing. He'd added eight furry spider legs off the name.

"It's awesome!" I told him genuinely, squeezing his arm, "I'm sure Scruffy would love it."

He beamed down at me. Beaming was once described to me as the crooked, fat, yellow crayon line a kid would draw for his messy creation's smiling mouth. The definition seemed to fit Duncan. He looked down from my face to his arm-where my hands were still locked. He kind of smiled, I think. It looked like he was going to say something, but he took a glance at his watch instead and his eyes widened.

"Pasty... Do you have a curfew?"

"I just gotta be back before my parents get home," I replied, searching his greeny blue eyes.

"Oh... good," he smiled, relieved. It was one of those smiles that gives a person tingly warm feelings. I shivered. Was he glad I didn't have to leave yet?

"Yeah..." I grinned back. "What time is it exactly?"

"Like twelve thirty," Duncan shrugged, going back to looking at his wall.

"What?!" I screamed, echoing all over the place and making Duncan jump, "I have to get home!"

I waited for Duncan to say something, but he just stood there, blinking.

"Um, you better go then!" he said.

Typical man.

DUNCAN POV

Gwen kinda rolled her eyes as she walked out from the bridge. I watched her butt as she walked; for a skinny girl, it wasn't a bad sight! I kind of just stood there and soaked the sight in until a giggle broke me out of my trance. I quickly shook my head; Gwen was standing there, laughing at me. She had noticed my creepiness but thought it was funny? That doesn't happen every day.

I decided that I should probably offer to walk her home-just to protect her from the creeps, other than myself, that could be out. I hastily grabbed my stuff and jogged to catch up with her.

"Wait up, Pasty!" I called. She didn't stop walking, but she looked over her shoulder at me.

"Stalker!"

I finally caught up, slinging my arm around her. "What was that you said?"

Her blue lips curled into a smile. "I said you are a STALKER!"

"I'm only walking my friend home! How is that stalking?" I argued happily.

"It's stalking 'cus I don't want you here!" Gwen laughed.

"Oh please," I rolled my eyes, "you would be scared shitless without me here."

She gave me a doubtful look. "Have you seen me? I'm not exactly a damsel in distress!"

I nodded my head. "Yeah, you're hardly the Princess." The thought of Courtney brought a sour taste to my mouth.

"THE Princess?" Gwen questioned.

I sighed. "Eh, she's just a girl who's a cold pain in my ass."

Gwen nodded knowingly. "So, your girlfriend then?" Her breath was like little ghosts of bitter air.

"Don't sound so sad, Pasty!" I laughed, elbowing her. My chuckles died down when I realized she wasn't laughing along. I cleared my throat. "Nah, man, she's my ex. The D-man is single as a Pringle."

"Oh."

I glanced over; she was hugging herself, shivering.

"My ex was pretty cold too," she said quietly.

I yanked off my hoodie. "Yeah, but," I draped it over her shoulders, "you're sunshine! No one could make you cold!"

Gwen nuzzled into the black cotton. "T-thanks," she smiled, teeth chattering.

I put my arm around her again. "Don't worry, Sunshine. I won't let you freeze."

We walked along down the middle of the road like that for a minute or two when I had to say something else. "So if you're in such a hurry, why aren't we running?"

I felt Gwen shrug under my arm. "They were home a long time ago so it doesn't really matter when I get back; they're gonna be mad anyway."

I smiled. A sneaky idea had formed in my head.

"Are you up for a little detour?"