My Goth/Punk Prince
folder
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
9
Views:
2,747
Reviews:
32
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
9
Views:
2,747
Reviews:
32
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Questions of Love
Ooc|/|
Rosemary- Yes. I have more chapters planned. And thank you. ^^
Warning: Slight song - fic -ish in the middle. I do not own Creed. I wish I did, but I do not. Especially since Creed is no more. Though Alter Bridge is fine. |/|
That voice. It was Liz Andrews. His sister. I cautiously stepped up to her. She’d matured a lot over one year. It made me think of how other things were probably different too. I felt sick.
“ I haven’t heard anything about you for a year. My brother was totally crushed when you left.” Liz sounded worried. There must be more… “ Actually…He’s still acting pretty strange…” My heart sank and I got that nasty taste in my mouth.
“Do you know where he is? That’s why I’m here…” I here myself ask softly.
“I think,” She paused.” I think he’s on lunch. You might try the café or skating.”
She handed me an all access card. When I tried to pay she said it was on the house and that she’d like to talk later.
Nodding I thanked her and walked out of the front room. Skating was downstairs across from the pools. As I walked down the mirror walled stairs, the scent of chlorine filled my nose. Maybe I’d swim later. I stopped to stare at my reflection. My skin was lightly tanned, natural, my charcoal brown hair needing a cut as it hung in my eyes. But I didn’t mind. I liked my hair this way. It gave me a sort of rebellious look, making my wavy locks more prominent. And if I cut them, I could care less. Looks neither worried nor fazed me. Images are something that just are. I like personality. I’m not just spewing the crap that idealists say either. I mean every word of it. Usually I just wake up in the morning and throw something on. It’s easier that way. Example: today I’m wearing a white muscle shirt, hoodie, and black jeans. Though, I do love the way he looks. Every inch of him.
I stepped off the stairs and headed down the long corridor towards the skating door. I slid the card through the slot in the door and waited for the beep. As soon as it did I opened the door and walked in. The design was the same as a hotel door. Music met my ears as soon as I was in. A song began to fade only to be replaced by another. I recognized it as ‘Don’t Stop Dancing’ by Creed. One of his more mellow songs. But I liked it for the most part.
“At times life is wicked and I just can’t see the light
A silver lining sometimes isn’t enough
To make some wrongs seem right
Whatever life brings
I’ve been through everything
And know I’m on my knees again”
My eyes wandered around the large room. Just as I remembered. To the left was the skate part type area, with the dish and half pipes and ramps; to the right, the skating rink; straight ahead, the snack and gift area, i.e. glow-sticks, candy, roller blades and roller skates, ect., ect. People littered everything. Some experienced, others not so much. It reminded me how much I loved to skate myself.
“But I know I must go on
although I hurt I must be strong
Because inside I know that many feel this way”
I walked over to the nearest bench and sat down. I pulled out my roller blades from my bad I was carrying around. It was full of stuff I had packed just in case I wanted to do something. So naturally I had packed my swimming trunks and even an extra pair of clothes and more. Taking off my shoes, I put on my ‘blades. What better way to look for someone in a crowd other than to join it?
“Children don’t stop dancing
Believe you can fly
Away…away”
I stood and pushed away from the bench. I didn’t bother to put my stuff in a locker. I knew it wouldn’t be touched. And, truthfully, I completely forgot about it. All I could focus on was finding my Goth/Punk Prince.
“At times life’s unfair and you know it’s plain to see
Hey God I know I’m just a dot in this world
Have you forgot about me?
Whatever life brings
I’ve been through everything
And know I’m on my knees again”
Where to look, the rink or the park? Left or right? I had to hurry. If he wasn’t here than he was most likely at the café, like Liz had said. But if I took to long, by the time I got there he could be gone. I’d be back to square one.
“But I know I must go on
Although I hurt I must be strong
Because inside I know that many feel this way”
So I went left into the skate-park. People were buzzing this way and that, over the half pipe, the dish, the ramps. Everywhere. Are you here? Blending with the crowd, bobbing to the music? I searched as quickly as I could without being sloppy, swerving and dodging. I tilted my right toes up to brake, coming to a stop before a rather large half pipe. A crowd was formed on both sides to watch the action that was taking place. I spotted a few of his friends. At least, that’s what he calls them. I, on the other hand, do not. They are the very type of people I don’t want him hanging out with. But there is little I could do to stop him. Little still. Maybe less. Are you with them, my Goth/Punk Prince? Are you attracting all the people watching?
“Am I hiding in the shadows?
Forget the pain and forget the sorrows”
I pushed through the throngs of people, mumbling a sorry here and there when I got a particularly dirty look. I reach the front, looking to see who was skating on the pipe. And there he was. Just as I remember him the day before I left for camp, when we went out for milkshakes. I smiled, heart leaping. Though my gut still clenched in fear. My Goth/Punk Prince. I have found you…At last.
His hair. He never dyed it? He had wanted to so badly. I had asked him not to. Begged him even. I’m surprised and happy that even when he is mad at me he did not brake his promise. I love his hair. I love the coppery, reddish brown. The way it’s cut short in the back and long in the front. How his bangs hang in his face, framing it.
“But I know I must go on
Although I hurt I must be strong
Because inside I know that many feel this way”
His eyes. The dark, hard green, outlined in blue eyes shadow and eye liner. His long, black eyelashes elongated and thickened with mascara. Is lips painted a blue black. Fishnets crawled up his creamy arms and over the top of his chest, stopped by tight black material. An inch or so of skin around the top of his hip bones was visible due to the dark green cargo caprices that hung dangerously low off his hips, molding with his legs as he moved over the half pipe. He, too, was wearing roller blades. Skating up and down, back and forth. Performing tricks and twisting and jumping.
“Children don’t stop dancing
Believe you can fly
Away…Away”
I watched in awe, admiring him. He’d gotten better. Much better. The way he moved was grace itself. And yet…And yet it was so…wild. So captivating. No wonder there was a crowd. I wanted to watch him forever. I wanted to call out to him. Make myself know. To tell him how I felt. My Goth/Punk Prince… If I did, he would stop. I was sure of it. But If I didn’t…The look on his face. He was lost. In another world. He would disappear soon. Most likely with the end of this song. And it was ending…winding down… A lump formed in my throat.
What to do? How? How can I make him notice me!? A small group of people left around me, being called away by someone. I had room. I backed up a little, an idea forming in my head. It was risky. I didn’t care. All I could loose was him…Looking at him he was slowing down. Preparing to stop in the center. And then he did! All motion of his lithe body was gone. Biting my lip, I pushed back on my feet and skated forward. I jumped up onto the half pipe and twisted to a stop in front of him, just as he was turning to get off.
Our eyes met. Dark green on aqua. He looked surprised, hopefully I looked calm. I wasn’t sure. I did not feel calm in the least. My stomach was still knotting. He opened his mouth as if to speak but no words came. He tried again but nothing changed. I, too, did not speak. I feared for my voice. I knew it would crack. Give me away.
“Who do you…? Why if it isn’t Black!” My eyes darted over to the side of the half pipe, where the drawl was coming from. It was one of his friends. My Goth/Punk Prince, why do you like them so?
My eyes turned away from the invader, back to him. The one I was here to see.
“Can we talk?” I asked quietly.
So quietly, in fact, that I would be surprised if he heard me. But then I saw him nod. Once. Twice. Maybe God did not have it in for me after all.
I could sense he was still in a state of shock. It was radiating off of him. So I led the way out, stopping briefly so we could change into our shoes. We did so in silence, except for me asking if he had already eaten and him giving a simple, unsteady ‘no’.
Again I led the way, this time up the stairs and to the café. We sat down, eye our menus just because it was something to do. We were both ready to order and we both knew it. And yet we just sat in the silence, waiting for the other to speak as we lied to ourselves, trying to believe that we did not know what we wanted.
Water was set down in front of us and I sipped at mine. Finally, he gave in and spoke.
“Why…Why are you here?” He sounded pained. As much as I felt.
“To talk. About last year.” I answered carefully, watching his face.
He grew angry, eyes forming a glare. Luckily our waiter came by to take our orders. I asked for a bowl of pasta ad he ordered a sandwich. When the waiter left, he faced me once more.
“Why do you want to talk about it?”
“ Because I’m sorry.” He gave me a sarcastic eye roll. A famous trait of his.
“ I…I didn’t know what happened. What they did to you. I did not even know we were moving! They didn’t tell me anything. And you…you wouldn’t speak to me…” I know I sounded pathetic. Especially at the end, my voice cracking. My confession just spewed out of me, like it was some toxin my body had to rid itself of. I’m a little upset. Okay, more than a little. Very. I’m very upset. Can you blame me?
He just looked at me. Again. Not saying anything. And so I studied him. Again. My Goth/Punk Prince of mine. Can’t you see how I feel? Won’t you see how I feel? How much I care and love and want you to understand? Are you reading my eyes? Do they not tell you everything? Look at my face. No, don’t look down at the table. Look at me! See my hurt, my pain, my love I hold for you! But where did that come from? My love I hold for him? Do I love him? My Goth/Punk Prince I’ve always had by my side until last year when I was so rudely cut off from him. Is this love? I’ve know him forever and I care deeply about him. I feel giddy and young and bubbly when he’s around me. I felt lost and empty and dead when I couldn’t be with him. But is this love? Is this really love?
|Review!|
Rosemary- Yes. I have more chapters planned. And thank you. ^^
Warning: Slight song - fic -ish in the middle. I do not own Creed. I wish I did, but I do not. Especially since Creed is no more. Though Alter Bridge is fine. |/|
That voice. It was Liz Andrews. His sister. I cautiously stepped up to her. She’d matured a lot over one year. It made me think of how other things were probably different too. I felt sick.
“ I haven’t heard anything about you for a year. My brother was totally crushed when you left.” Liz sounded worried. There must be more… “ Actually…He’s still acting pretty strange…” My heart sank and I got that nasty taste in my mouth.
“Do you know where he is? That’s why I’m here…” I here myself ask softly.
“I think,” She paused.” I think he’s on lunch. You might try the café or skating.”
She handed me an all access card. When I tried to pay she said it was on the house and that she’d like to talk later.
Nodding I thanked her and walked out of the front room. Skating was downstairs across from the pools. As I walked down the mirror walled stairs, the scent of chlorine filled my nose. Maybe I’d swim later. I stopped to stare at my reflection. My skin was lightly tanned, natural, my charcoal brown hair needing a cut as it hung in my eyes. But I didn’t mind. I liked my hair this way. It gave me a sort of rebellious look, making my wavy locks more prominent. And if I cut them, I could care less. Looks neither worried nor fazed me. Images are something that just are. I like personality. I’m not just spewing the crap that idealists say either. I mean every word of it. Usually I just wake up in the morning and throw something on. It’s easier that way. Example: today I’m wearing a white muscle shirt, hoodie, and black jeans. Though, I do love the way he looks. Every inch of him.
I stepped off the stairs and headed down the long corridor towards the skating door. I slid the card through the slot in the door and waited for the beep. As soon as it did I opened the door and walked in. The design was the same as a hotel door. Music met my ears as soon as I was in. A song began to fade only to be replaced by another. I recognized it as ‘Don’t Stop Dancing’ by Creed. One of his more mellow songs. But I liked it for the most part.
“At times life is wicked and I just can’t see the light
A silver lining sometimes isn’t enough
To make some wrongs seem right
Whatever life brings
I’ve been through everything
And know I’m on my knees again”
My eyes wandered around the large room. Just as I remembered. To the left was the skate part type area, with the dish and half pipes and ramps; to the right, the skating rink; straight ahead, the snack and gift area, i.e. glow-sticks, candy, roller blades and roller skates, ect., ect. People littered everything. Some experienced, others not so much. It reminded me how much I loved to skate myself.
“But I know I must go on
although I hurt I must be strong
Because inside I know that many feel this way”
I walked over to the nearest bench and sat down. I pulled out my roller blades from my bad I was carrying around. It was full of stuff I had packed just in case I wanted to do something. So naturally I had packed my swimming trunks and even an extra pair of clothes and more. Taking off my shoes, I put on my ‘blades. What better way to look for someone in a crowd other than to join it?
“Children don’t stop dancing
Believe you can fly
Away…away”
I stood and pushed away from the bench. I didn’t bother to put my stuff in a locker. I knew it wouldn’t be touched. And, truthfully, I completely forgot about it. All I could focus on was finding my Goth/Punk Prince.
“At times life’s unfair and you know it’s plain to see
Hey God I know I’m just a dot in this world
Have you forgot about me?
Whatever life brings
I’ve been through everything
And know I’m on my knees again”
Where to look, the rink or the park? Left or right? I had to hurry. If he wasn’t here than he was most likely at the café, like Liz had said. But if I took to long, by the time I got there he could be gone. I’d be back to square one.
“But I know I must go on
Although I hurt I must be strong
Because inside I know that many feel this way”
So I went left into the skate-park. People were buzzing this way and that, over the half pipe, the dish, the ramps. Everywhere. Are you here? Blending with the crowd, bobbing to the music? I searched as quickly as I could without being sloppy, swerving and dodging. I tilted my right toes up to brake, coming to a stop before a rather large half pipe. A crowd was formed on both sides to watch the action that was taking place. I spotted a few of his friends. At least, that’s what he calls them. I, on the other hand, do not. They are the very type of people I don’t want him hanging out with. But there is little I could do to stop him. Little still. Maybe less. Are you with them, my Goth/Punk Prince? Are you attracting all the people watching?
“Am I hiding in the shadows?
Forget the pain and forget the sorrows”
I pushed through the throngs of people, mumbling a sorry here and there when I got a particularly dirty look. I reach the front, looking to see who was skating on the pipe. And there he was. Just as I remember him the day before I left for camp, when we went out for milkshakes. I smiled, heart leaping. Though my gut still clenched in fear. My Goth/Punk Prince. I have found you…At last.
His hair. He never dyed it? He had wanted to so badly. I had asked him not to. Begged him even. I’m surprised and happy that even when he is mad at me he did not brake his promise. I love his hair. I love the coppery, reddish brown. The way it’s cut short in the back and long in the front. How his bangs hang in his face, framing it.
“But I know I must go on
Although I hurt I must be strong
Because inside I know that many feel this way”
His eyes. The dark, hard green, outlined in blue eyes shadow and eye liner. His long, black eyelashes elongated and thickened with mascara. Is lips painted a blue black. Fishnets crawled up his creamy arms and over the top of his chest, stopped by tight black material. An inch or so of skin around the top of his hip bones was visible due to the dark green cargo caprices that hung dangerously low off his hips, molding with his legs as he moved over the half pipe. He, too, was wearing roller blades. Skating up and down, back and forth. Performing tricks and twisting and jumping.
“Children don’t stop dancing
Believe you can fly
Away…Away”
I watched in awe, admiring him. He’d gotten better. Much better. The way he moved was grace itself. And yet…And yet it was so…wild. So captivating. No wonder there was a crowd. I wanted to watch him forever. I wanted to call out to him. Make myself know. To tell him how I felt. My Goth/Punk Prince… If I did, he would stop. I was sure of it. But If I didn’t…The look on his face. He was lost. In another world. He would disappear soon. Most likely with the end of this song. And it was ending…winding down… A lump formed in my throat.
What to do? How? How can I make him notice me!? A small group of people left around me, being called away by someone. I had room. I backed up a little, an idea forming in my head. It was risky. I didn’t care. All I could loose was him…Looking at him he was slowing down. Preparing to stop in the center. And then he did! All motion of his lithe body was gone. Biting my lip, I pushed back on my feet and skated forward. I jumped up onto the half pipe and twisted to a stop in front of him, just as he was turning to get off.
Our eyes met. Dark green on aqua. He looked surprised, hopefully I looked calm. I wasn’t sure. I did not feel calm in the least. My stomach was still knotting. He opened his mouth as if to speak but no words came. He tried again but nothing changed. I, too, did not speak. I feared for my voice. I knew it would crack. Give me away.
“Who do you…? Why if it isn’t Black!” My eyes darted over to the side of the half pipe, where the drawl was coming from. It was one of his friends. My Goth/Punk Prince, why do you like them so?
My eyes turned away from the invader, back to him. The one I was here to see.
“Can we talk?” I asked quietly.
So quietly, in fact, that I would be surprised if he heard me. But then I saw him nod. Once. Twice. Maybe God did not have it in for me after all.
I could sense he was still in a state of shock. It was radiating off of him. So I led the way out, stopping briefly so we could change into our shoes. We did so in silence, except for me asking if he had already eaten and him giving a simple, unsteady ‘no’.
Again I led the way, this time up the stairs and to the café. We sat down, eye our menus just because it was something to do. We were both ready to order and we both knew it. And yet we just sat in the silence, waiting for the other to speak as we lied to ourselves, trying to believe that we did not know what we wanted.
Water was set down in front of us and I sipped at mine. Finally, he gave in and spoke.
“Why…Why are you here?” He sounded pained. As much as I felt.
“To talk. About last year.” I answered carefully, watching his face.
He grew angry, eyes forming a glare. Luckily our waiter came by to take our orders. I asked for a bowl of pasta ad he ordered a sandwich. When the waiter left, he faced me once more.
“Why do you want to talk about it?”
“ Because I’m sorry.” He gave me a sarcastic eye roll. A famous trait of his.
“ I…I didn’t know what happened. What they did to you. I did not even know we were moving! They didn’t tell me anything. And you…you wouldn’t speak to me…” I know I sounded pathetic. Especially at the end, my voice cracking. My confession just spewed out of me, like it was some toxin my body had to rid itself of. I’m a little upset. Okay, more than a little. Very. I’m very upset. Can you blame me?
He just looked at me. Again. Not saying anything. And so I studied him. Again. My Goth/Punk Prince of mine. Can’t you see how I feel? Won’t you see how I feel? How much I care and love and want you to understand? Are you reading my eyes? Do they not tell you everything? Look at my face. No, don’t look down at the table. Look at me! See my hurt, my pain, my love I hold for you! But where did that come from? My love I hold for him? Do I love him? My Goth/Punk Prince I’ve always had by my side until last year when I was so rudely cut off from him. Is this love? I’ve know him forever and I care deeply about him. I feel giddy and young and bubbly when he’s around me. I felt lost and empty and dead when I couldn’t be with him. But is this love? Is this really love?
|Review!|