My Goth/Punk Prince

OoC|| Warning: Mild violence in this chapter.

To my ever loyal reviewers:

Mewa ~ Later. You will get the fun sex later. ^^ Besides, I\'m new at this.

Kat ~ xD

Miztikal_Dragon ~ Thank you. I plan on it.


I do not know what to think of this chapter. I am not really happy with the end. But I\'m too lazy to go back and fix it. So, I\'m just going to post it how it is. Sorry. ||


Years ago I had watched him enter the classroom, arguing with his mother. I remember it vividly. Like it was yesterday. Not nearly fifteen years ago. I remember the way his voice was soft, the way his lips pouted, and the way his eyes, even then, were dull.

“Mama! I don’ wanna go! I wanna stay home with Kitty.”

He was so small. So fragile and innocent. Complaining about not being able to say with his beloved Kitty. I had just sat there, swinging my legs back and forth because the chair was so large. Staring. At him. With large eyes.

I had seen everyone so far. He was the only one who caught my interest. With his Jurassic Park shirt, his lime green and black shorts, his camouflage beanie. The way he stood, trying to persuade his mother to take him back to Kitty. I was captivated. Never seen anyone like him. My parents had sheltered me. Too much. He was just so different to me. I wanted to know him. I wanted /him/.

He looked away from the agitated woman next to him, still going on and on. I was met with green eyes. They were sharp, piercing. But then they softened. A spark lit, making them glow. His words stopped briefly, until he made up his mind.

“Bye, Mama.” Then he just strode off. Leaving his mother in a very confused state.

He walked over to my round little table, sitting next to me. It was just me and him. I could hear my heart pounding. I felt nervous. Didn’t know what to say. But I did not need to worry. He made sure of that.

“Hi. I’m Carson Joseph Andrews, but I don’t really like my middle name.” He wrinkled his nose to prove his point.

I smiled. He grinned.

“I am Jesse Oliver Black.” I spoke quietly. Shy, I suppose.

“Mm. I have a dog! His name’s Kitty.”

“Why would you name your dog Kitty?” I was confused, but pleased that the conversation was easy. Natural.

“ ‘Cause calling a kitty ‘Kitty’ is just silly.” And he laughed. It was melodic. Still is. And I laughed too.


This is how we met. How it all began. The legacy of my Punk/Goth Prince ad me. I remember some of the hard times we went through. Like when Kitty was died. Shot more like it. By none other than Jimmy Peterson. We never did like him. He never did like us.

That day did not start out so terrible. We were camping at by a river, just outside of town. We always went here to just escape our parents. We were freshmen. Naturally, we had brought Kitty along. Sure he was old. Really old. But it didn’t bother him and he liked going with us.

So we went for a walk, maybe about a mile away. Jimmy Peterson was camping also. Out hunting with his father. We were on a trail. A deer was fifty feet from us, in a clearing. Kitty ran out, playfully. Jimmy Peterson was there, without his father, and shot. He hit Kitty through the shoulder, taking out his lungs, heart and whatever else was in that general area of a dogs body. He died instantly, which is a good thing in its own way.

Carson snapped. His eyes went blank and he ran at Jimmy Peterson with every intention to kill him. The deer was long gone. I raced after him. Things were already bad enough. By the time I reached them, Carson was already beating the shit out of Jimmy, whose gun was tossed aside, broken. I pulled him off of Jimmy Peterson, who was covered in blood. I yelled at him to get the hell away. He did. He turned and fled. Away from us.

We were alone again. Like we should have been in the first place. Jimmy should not have been so close to the camp grounds. But he was. I had wrapped my arms around Carson. He punched my chest. There was no force behind the blows. And then he collapsed in my arms.

We sat there for a long time. Maybe an hour or two. Me holding him. Him crying. Then we got up. Picked up Kitty and walked to the river. We waded in, current threatening to pull us away, and let go of Kitty. We watched as he flowed away until the bitter cold of the water forced us out. We did spent the rest of the trip without saying much. Just hanging around each other. Sense then Carson and Jimmy Peterson got in a lot more fights. Just as bloody and violent, if not more, than the first.


Now here we stand, dripping and shirtless in front of thirty people. My Goth/Punk Prince and I. Our faces flushed, lips still raw, and eyes sparkling with delight. Our chests rising up and down quickly with our racing heart.

“We,” I threw a grin at him. “ Had a ‘discussion’.”

Carson laughed. I laughed with him. Liz just knitted her eyebrows together, folding her arms over her chest.

“ But how did you get wet?” She asked accusingly. “ And why are you holding your shirts?”

“Mm.” He began, rolling his eyes. “ Take my car home. Tell dad I’m going, and yes, my shift is over. We’ll be at the house.” He tossed her his keys, also wet, grinned and walked off. I followed after him, almost snorting from holding back laughter.

As we exited the doors, I stepped behind him and pulled my hoodie over his head and over his arms. He titled his head back, mock glaring, and pushed his arms through the sleeves. It was big on him. But comfortable. And warm.

“Much Bett-“ I began, being cut off by someone shouting behind us.

“Jess! Jesse wait up!” I turned to see who it was, already knowing from the shrill voice.

Jenn. Does she not fucking get it? Carson stopped next to me, facing The Bitch.

“Who is /that/?” She commanded harshly.

Like it was any of her concern. Here eyes trailed over my chest and down at my jeans, which were clinging to my legs. I felt my Goth/Punk Prince press into me. I was his. Not hers. She had no right to look at me.

“This,” I sounded pissed, if I do say so myself. “Is Carson. A friend. Now, we are leaving.” Then I walked away, towards my car, Carson still right next to me.

“Wait! Jess, wait!” She came after us.

“ Don’t. Call. Me. That!” I growled out. Yup. I was pissed.

“ I thought we had plans. Dinner, ya know.” She made it sound so obvious.

“ No. I do /not/ know. I never agreed to anything. I told /you/ I /already/ had plans.”

“ No, you didn’t.” She argued. The Bitch possessed such a one tract mind. The world did revolve around her after all.

“Good-bye, Jenn.” I unlocked my car doors and got in.

Carson followed suite. I started the engine, preparing to back out. She saw this, gave a shrill shriek, and stormed off. The Bitch was gone.

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