My Goth/Punk Prince
folder
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
9
Views:
2,799
Reviews:
32
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
9
Views:
2,799
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.
Broken Confusion
OoC|| To me loverly reviewers:
CorneredIn A Tub ~ Yes. I did intend on including all of that information. I have about three other chapters already written and it\'s all inside of them. I shall post then about one a day.
susuc ~ How can I not? I love this story.
Paine ~ Thank you. I was a little uneasy with the whole first person thing, but I\'m really used to it now. Angst is so much fun!
Stone ~ Cute. Yes. That does sum it up, doesn\'t it? As I was telling Paine, angst is \'so much fun\'. More chapters are on the way.
Kat ~ I plan to update, or try to, once a day.
Thank you, every one of you, for reviewing. It means so very much to me. ^^ Now, onto the story! ||
What is love? Can anyone answer me this? I really would like to know. Is love taking care of your children, buying them things and punishing them when they step out of line? Is love going to dinner or out to a movie? Is love laughing and crying, hating and wanting, talking and seeing? What is love? I do not know and I fear… I fear I may never know. So as I sit here in silence, looking at him, my Goth/Punk Prince, I wonder. Is this love?
Our food came and yet we do not eat. Still we sit. Silence is screaming at me. Usually I get along with Silence. Especially at home. But not here. Not now. Silence is standing in the way between him and me. Silence is making me sick. I have to get Silence to leave.
“Carson.” His name. I spoke his name. “Carson, please speak to me.” I’m pleading. Begging. Great.
But he looked up. At me. And spoke.
“I really missed you Jess.” He forgave me!
All the knots plaguing my stomach disappeared. I felt light as a feather. I felt I could fly. I felt like I could rule the world. Or cry. Carson beat me to it. I watched, shocked, as tears built around his eyes and then trailed down his face. He was crying. My Goth/Punk Prince was crying because of me. His makeup was staining his face with each tear that fell. My Carson’s silent sobs ripped at my heart. His pain was because of me. Soon everything went blurry. I couldn’t see him very well. Something hot was burning down my face. I couldn’t see him shaking but I knew he was, knew I was.
We did not try to speak. Did not try and soothe the other. These were tears that had to fall. We had to cry out our anger, the pain, the sorrow. And so we did. My Goth/Punk Prince and I ignored the world around us and cried it all out. Our food became soiled with our tears, mine clear, his black, until we could cry no more.
With a shaking hand I reached in my back pocket and pulled out my wallet. I placed twenty dollars on the table and stood up. I did not care about the change. Only Carson was on my mind. My Goth/Punk Prince. He rose too. Reading my thoughts, which I was grateful for.
And so we left, our food sitting cold and forgotten. I led the way back down the stairs to the only place I knew we would not be disturbed: The family locker rooms. The scent of chlorine grew stronger with each step until we came to the doors. I opened one, he entered, and I followed. The sharp smell disappeared as I closed and locked the door behind us. Then I went in search for my Goth/Punk Prince of mine. I found him in front of one of the sinks. The occasional tear leaked from his eyes, leaving one of many black trails down his face. I stood behind him, looking at his reflection. Carson smiled weakly.
“Look at me.” He said, turning to face me. “I’m covered in tears and makeup.” And then he laughed as if it were the most ironic thing in the world.
I looked at his puffy eyes, mascara, eye liner and eye shadow smeared everywhere. They were beautiful. I looked at his flushed, stained cheeks, his painted lips, I looked at his bangs were stuck to his face. Beautiful. My Goth/Punk Prince, you are beautiful. If only you knew. Carson. If only you did not hide.
Another tear slid down his face. I automatically reached forward, gently brushing it away with my thumb. As soon as I did, I regretted it. I should have known better. I should have known that I wouldn’t be able to take my hand away. That it would linger longer than necessary. I longed to feel more of him. To feel his warmth. To slide my hand of his silky skin. And I regretted what I did not because I did not love him (Do I love him?), but because I am afraid. Afraid that he would reject me. Push me away. I did not expect to see his dark eyes close. I did not expect his face to arch into my touch. And so I froze, shocked.
I watched as his back stiffened as soon as he realized what he had down. I watched as he quickly opened his eyes. I watched as he started stepping backwards, away from me. My hand slowly lowered to my side once more and I looked away. Rejection. I knew it was bound to happen. I thought I was prepared for it. But I guess I wasn’t. I never imagined that it would hurt this much. I could never think of what it would feel like for my heart to shatter.
“I…” Carson was trying to speak. His mouth opened once. Twice. Three times and still no words escaped.
I looked at him through the mirror. Again. There was something about him. About the look he had on his face. I couldn’t place what it was. I’d seen him look at me this way before, only when he thinks I’m not looking. But I have no idea what it means. I still don’t.
I thought my heart had shattered a few moments ago but I was wrong. Very wrong. My heart was shattering now. Ripping apart into small little pieces as I watched as more tears slid down his face. My Goth/Punk Prince was crying. Again. Because of me. Again. Why do I plague him so? I watched, pain stricken, as he took a step towards me and stopped. As one of his hands began to reach out to me and as he pulled it back to his side. Tears dripped from his face to the tiled floor. My eyes began to burn, my throat itching from the lump that was forming. I wasn’t going to cry. But I longed to. I longed for him. I couldn’t bare his rejection.
“I-…I’m sorry…” Carson spoke softly.
What had he done? It was me. This was my fault. Not his. He was not to blame. My Goth/Punk Prince you have done nothing wrong. I am the one who is cursed to live a life of Hell, not you. I should leave and not return. I should not bring the pain to you. This is all my fault.
“I’m sorry.” Carson sobbed again. “Jess…”
He was looking at me and I wasn’t looking at him. Only his reflection. I couldn’t look at him. I was already braking. And I watched as his expression changed, changed to something I had never seen before on him. Only myself. I was not completely broken. Through his eyes I could see he was willing me to look at him. To forgive him of his wrong. He had done no wrong. Only me. Tears slipped from my eyes. I tried to stop them. I willed them to stop. But I couldn’t.
No longer able to see, I listened as my Goth/Punk Prince cries became more violent. I felt him reach out to me, his hand latching onto my hoodie and balling the material tightly in his hand.
“Jess, please…” I looked at him. No longer able not to.
We were so close, Carson and I. He cried as I cried. Hurt as I hurt. His face, his beautiful face, still held that look I couldn’t figure out. And it was so close to mine, rising up. How could it be this close? He was shorter than me and not by just a little. I was about five inches taller. So why was he this close? Why was he rising? I felt his warm breath tickling my face. It smelled like cinnamon. I could see the dark tears hanging from his eyelashes. The dark, dark green of his eyes bore into my own. Mesmerizing. I watched as he leaned forward slowly until I could see only his eyes. Until I felt his lips upon my own.
OoC|| -nudge-nudge- Review! -nudge-nudge- ||
CorneredIn A Tub ~ Yes. I did intend on including all of that information. I have about three other chapters already written and it\'s all inside of them. I shall post then about one a day.
susuc ~ How can I not? I love this story.
Paine ~ Thank you. I was a little uneasy with the whole first person thing, but I\'m really used to it now. Angst is so much fun!
Stone ~ Cute. Yes. That does sum it up, doesn\'t it? As I was telling Paine, angst is \'so much fun\'. More chapters are on the way.
Kat ~ I plan to update, or try to, once a day.
Thank you, every one of you, for reviewing. It means so very much to me. ^^ Now, onto the story! ||
What is love? Can anyone answer me this? I really would like to know. Is love taking care of your children, buying them things and punishing them when they step out of line? Is love going to dinner or out to a movie? Is love laughing and crying, hating and wanting, talking and seeing? What is love? I do not know and I fear… I fear I may never know. So as I sit here in silence, looking at him, my Goth/Punk Prince, I wonder. Is this love?
Our food came and yet we do not eat. Still we sit. Silence is screaming at me. Usually I get along with Silence. Especially at home. But not here. Not now. Silence is standing in the way between him and me. Silence is making me sick. I have to get Silence to leave.
“Carson.” His name. I spoke his name. “Carson, please speak to me.” I’m pleading. Begging. Great.
But he looked up. At me. And spoke.
“I really missed you Jess.” He forgave me!
All the knots plaguing my stomach disappeared. I felt light as a feather. I felt I could fly. I felt like I could rule the world. Or cry. Carson beat me to it. I watched, shocked, as tears built around his eyes and then trailed down his face. He was crying. My Goth/Punk Prince was crying because of me. His makeup was staining his face with each tear that fell. My Carson’s silent sobs ripped at my heart. His pain was because of me. Soon everything went blurry. I couldn’t see him very well. Something hot was burning down my face. I couldn’t see him shaking but I knew he was, knew I was.
We did not try to speak. Did not try and soothe the other. These were tears that had to fall. We had to cry out our anger, the pain, the sorrow. And so we did. My Goth/Punk Prince and I ignored the world around us and cried it all out. Our food became soiled with our tears, mine clear, his black, until we could cry no more.
With a shaking hand I reached in my back pocket and pulled out my wallet. I placed twenty dollars on the table and stood up. I did not care about the change. Only Carson was on my mind. My Goth/Punk Prince. He rose too. Reading my thoughts, which I was grateful for.
And so we left, our food sitting cold and forgotten. I led the way back down the stairs to the only place I knew we would not be disturbed: The family locker rooms. The scent of chlorine grew stronger with each step until we came to the doors. I opened one, he entered, and I followed. The sharp smell disappeared as I closed and locked the door behind us. Then I went in search for my Goth/Punk Prince of mine. I found him in front of one of the sinks. The occasional tear leaked from his eyes, leaving one of many black trails down his face. I stood behind him, looking at his reflection. Carson smiled weakly.
“Look at me.” He said, turning to face me. “I’m covered in tears and makeup.” And then he laughed as if it were the most ironic thing in the world.
I looked at his puffy eyes, mascara, eye liner and eye shadow smeared everywhere. They were beautiful. I looked at his flushed, stained cheeks, his painted lips, I looked at his bangs were stuck to his face. Beautiful. My Goth/Punk Prince, you are beautiful. If only you knew. Carson. If only you did not hide.
Another tear slid down his face. I automatically reached forward, gently brushing it away with my thumb. As soon as I did, I regretted it. I should have known better. I should have known that I wouldn’t be able to take my hand away. That it would linger longer than necessary. I longed to feel more of him. To feel his warmth. To slide my hand of his silky skin. And I regretted what I did not because I did not love him (Do I love him?), but because I am afraid. Afraid that he would reject me. Push me away. I did not expect to see his dark eyes close. I did not expect his face to arch into my touch. And so I froze, shocked.
I watched as his back stiffened as soon as he realized what he had down. I watched as he quickly opened his eyes. I watched as he started stepping backwards, away from me. My hand slowly lowered to my side once more and I looked away. Rejection. I knew it was bound to happen. I thought I was prepared for it. But I guess I wasn’t. I never imagined that it would hurt this much. I could never think of what it would feel like for my heart to shatter.
“I…” Carson was trying to speak. His mouth opened once. Twice. Three times and still no words escaped.
I looked at him through the mirror. Again. There was something about him. About the look he had on his face. I couldn’t place what it was. I’d seen him look at me this way before, only when he thinks I’m not looking. But I have no idea what it means. I still don’t.
I thought my heart had shattered a few moments ago but I was wrong. Very wrong. My heart was shattering now. Ripping apart into small little pieces as I watched as more tears slid down his face. My Goth/Punk Prince was crying. Again. Because of me. Again. Why do I plague him so? I watched, pain stricken, as he took a step towards me and stopped. As one of his hands began to reach out to me and as he pulled it back to his side. Tears dripped from his face to the tiled floor. My eyes began to burn, my throat itching from the lump that was forming. I wasn’t going to cry. But I longed to. I longed for him. I couldn’t bare his rejection.
“I-…I’m sorry…” Carson spoke softly.
What had he done? It was me. This was my fault. Not his. He was not to blame. My Goth/Punk Prince you have done nothing wrong. I am the one who is cursed to live a life of Hell, not you. I should leave and not return. I should not bring the pain to you. This is all my fault.
“I’m sorry.” Carson sobbed again. “Jess…”
He was looking at me and I wasn’t looking at him. Only his reflection. I couldn’t look at him. I was already braking. And I watched as his expression changed, changed to something I had never seen before on him. Only myself. I was not completely broken. Through his eyes I could see he was willing me to look at him. To forgive him of his wrong. He had done no wrong. Only me. Tears slipped from my eyes. I tried to stop them. I willed them to stop. But I couldn’t.
No longer able to see, I listened as my Goth/Punk Prince cries became more violent. I felt him reach out to me, his hand latching onto my hoodie and balling the material tightly in his hand.
“Jess, please…” I looked at him. No longer able not to.
We were so close, Carson and I. He cried as I cried. Hurt as I hurt. His face, his beautiful face, still held that look I couldn’t figure out. And it was so close to mine, rising up. How could it be this close? He was shorter than me and not by just a little. I was about five inches taller. So why was he this close? Why was he rising? I felt his warm breath tickling my face. It smelled like cinnamon. I could see the dark tears hanging from his eyelashes. The dark, dark green of his eyes bore into my own. Mesmerizing. I watched as he leaned forward slowly until I could see only his eyes. Until I felt his lips upon my own.
OoC|| -nudge-nudge- Review! -nudge-nudge- ||