Don’t Fear The Reaper

AHAHA
I’ve been playing Rock Band way too fuckin much*

Anyway

I am your humble fic host, Alex.
Please enjoy my smut and brain-shits
Or don’t
Either way, critique and feedback of pretty much any sort are highly appreciated.
And I’m a masochistic pyromaniac, so flames only turn me on. ; )

Side effects: May cause bleeding of the eyes or the area around the eyes, dihareah, heart burn, cancer, AIDs, or dead babies
If you experience any of these symptoms, kill yourself immediately, because you’re just gonna die from a fate far, far worse in a few years anyway

Thank you and have a nice day
Or night, for you nocturnal people like me out there.
We’re so much more bad-ass than those pussy day people.

(EDIT: Okay so I went through and put in all the formatting HTML that I was too lazy to do earlier... Being sober makes you do crazy things, though. Ho mah gawd this was such a PAIN IN THE ASS FUCK YOU AFF FUCK YOUUUUUU FUCK
FUCK FUCK FUCK
YOU
...
: D)

~!~

There were many faces, but it was that face that was the most persistent, the most haunting, the most violent.
The face… The man, in fact—if you could even call him that—but his fucking face was what had always been staring occasionally around a corner, his face glaring up from underneath the bed, the closet, the window; or he simply stood there and stared.
And his stare… Jesus, his eyes were the most distressing feature of his strangely gruesome overall appearance. They were actually gorgeous; all physical aspects of him were, really. They were just… dead. Everything about him was dead, reeked of death, told of death, whispered it like a gust of decayed, stale air from the gaping maw of an ancient tomb… His eyes were blue, so goddamn bright blue, they almost hurt to look into. They had no light, though. No emotion.
But even though he seemed to be an empty shell, still nothing indicated he was anything but human. He stood at maybe six-three, was lean and fit, and had brilliant black hair that was cut so that it swooped to where the bangs barely brushed his left eyebrow. He was attractive, yeah, hell yeah, almost everything about him was fucking attractive. He was just a gorgeous staring corpse, most of the time, if he was even around; though, he could be sensed in the area constantly.
But, other times?
When he was violent?
It was hard to describe those times. He didn’t so much change his expression, but something about him when he got like that would inspire the darkest fear into anyone who could look into his eyes. Something, it was impossible to tell… His eyes would get bright, that was the only physical change he would ever undergo, but somehow by that simple change he could turn into a grotesque, terrifying thing.
But, god, he was so damn beautiful…

“Um, dude?”
He almost jumped, snapping his sketchbook shut tightly as he looked up into a pair of light hazel eyes. Edgar just grinned slightly and said, “Teacher asked you a question, Mr. Gay…”
“Fuck you,” Adrian mumbled before looking up at the front of the room where his English teacher was looking at him, an annoyed and impatient expression on her heavily wrinkled face; her flesh seemed to hang off of her in waddles, the different drapes of fat jiggling intermediately between each other. It was… hideous in a much, much different way than his contrastingly lovely haunt. They were both evil, though…
Then, her lips rapidly moving thin lines and her chin waddles and folds of cheek fat jiggling in time to every shift of her jaw, Mrs. Jason said, “If I see you in that other book one more time, Mr. Gayhorn, I’m taking it up, understood?”
“Ye-yes, ma’am,” Adrian said, frowning a little when she’d used his last name. He fucking hated his last name… For reasons that did not need to be explained.
“Good. Now do you have any idea what we’re doing right now?”
Resisting the urge to straight-out glare at the bitch, Adrian just looked back into the teacher’s very round, very small watery red eyes and said evenly, “W-we just got st-started on the subject of Th-the Black Cat and you were as-assigning us partners for a project over E-Edgar Allen Poe’s li-life story.” After all, Jesus Christ, he’d only zoned out for a minute.
Couldn’t he go one fucking second without someone on his ass? Seriously. Shit.
“But obviously you didn’t hear what I asked you.”
“No, ma’am,” Adrian said patiently. Of course he hadn’t. Stupid bitch… Every kid in the class was staring at him and it was pissing him off. Why the hell did she have to make a big example out of him? It had just been a few seconds of him doodling… Besides, occasionally the images of that man built up inside of his head and he had to get them out.
That man…
Adrian wasn’t afraid of him when the man wasn’t right there, unless he was angry and Adrian could sense it. Adrian could always sense him; he was like a continuous presence, like someone who was just always silently watching him, and occasionally he could feel dark emotions from the other if they were strong enough.
“I asked you where the restroom pass was, since you had it last.” He really hated her. Getting a fucking attitude with him for shit… Teachers had a real goddamn problem with respect, didn’t they? Condescending sons of bitches…
“I p-put it next to the overhead like I-I’m suppo-osed to, ma’am,” he said quietly, folding his arms over his chest. “Is it no-not there?”
Lo and fucking behold, she looked for a second and found it, right there, bright red as a slapped-up fucking bitch. How had the blind queef missed that? He hated teachers, hated teachers, hated teachers, hated teachers…
His thought process stopped dead.
His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open very slightly in surprise.
He was there, he was right there…
Time seemed to slow like water obtaining the viscosity of honey. Everything else faded into the background and all sound turned to a dull mumble at the same time. Adrian’s focus was solely upon that man, centered upon that graceful figure.
Dressed in a black hoodie and black jeans, both such a rich color of ebony that they seemed to threaten to suck the light out of everything around him, he was just standing in the corner when Adrian glanced over there. Like always, his sudden “physical” existence in the room made the temperature feel like it had just dropped several degrees and Adrian’s arms broke out in goose bumps immediately.
Their eyes locked; piercing blue with green. Adrian felt like the man was suddenly in his mind; he felt completely open and naked to him right then, vulnerable and weak, and then it hurt, but Adrian just couldn’t fucking look away.
Then the simple hurt transformed. His whole world was pain then; not his physical state, though, no, it was his mental self that was writhing in a confused, indescribable agony. His mouth opened into a small ‘o,’ something very close to a moan escaping from his lips. It just felt like… the man had ripped his mind from him and then raped it…
Their eyes still didn’t part. Adrian was trembling from the fire that was sparking through each and every one of his nerves, his torso the center of the inferno of this pure anguish he was now undergoing as the pain in his mind began to consume his flesh.
But at the same time… it felt…
He gasped again, this time louder, and then again.
Then those supple, pale lips did something he’d never seen them do. Slowly, slowly, they curved upwards and turned into something like a contemptuous, satisfied smirk.
Gone.
Adrian fell forward onto his desk, his cheek hitting his sketchbook cover hard, and he simply sat there, his heart racing. Everything came back to normal then; sound came back full-force, the temperature returned to how it was, and no one had noticed his little “episode.” His pain had vanished with his apparition and he could think clearly to review what the fuck had just happened.
What the hell was that?
What had that been?
Oh, god, and he…
Oh, shit.
He sat up quickly then and glanced down, his cheeks set aflame the second he saw what was between his legs.
Groaning, Adrian bent back over his desk and tried to cover the bulge a little better with his jacket. Shit, shit, shit, how had that happened?
It had been that other sensation. The man had never hurt him like that before, not even when he was angry, and obviously he hadn’t been angry. Shit, Adrian had never, never, never seen him so much as blink, much less smile, no matter how positively satanic said smile was. But that…
That other sensation.
Along with the pain, there had been something else, an urgent excitement, a hunger, something… But he never would have expected to have gotten an erection, of all things. Who gets turned on like that under that much pain, anyway? He wasn’t a fucking masochist! … Was he?
Well, fuck, either way, it didn’t matter. What had the man done? What had he wanted? Usually he was just there, just a presence, like all of the others. Well… Adrian had always known the man was special from the other creatures, or whatever they were, but he had never been able to figure out just how he was different.
“Dude, Adrian.”
“What’s up?” Adrian asked, looking up immediately, trying to erase the recent incident from his mind so he could ponder over it later. He felt really awkward then, too… He still had a… problem. And that was really bothering him, in a lot of ways.
Ignoring his discomfort and unfortunate situation, Adrian watched as Edgar held out his assignment paper to indicate the separate parts of their project, his same usual smile on his lips as he said, “How about you do the poster and make all the pictures and shit and I’ll get the info? You’re better at that artistic crap than I am.”
“Sure,” he replied. Artistic crap. Right. “Get me the informa-ation tomorrow, I-I’ll make the poster based on it then after sch-school, ‘kay?”
“Yeah.” At that point Edgar turned away to talk to the girl behind him without further attempt at conversation. Adrian didn’t mind, though; Edgar was cool but it wasn’t like they were friends. In fact, Adrian didn’t have many friends… Or… any… Not that he minded that, either.
Well.
Maybe he did.
Just a little…
A lot?
Wait… what the hell was that—
Fuck!
Squeezing his eyes shut, he bit his lip and took in a deep breath of air. Just for a second he’d felt him, close to him, right…
there…
and he’d felt…
He gasped slightly and clamped his legs around his returning erection and had to stop from moaning. That sensation, all over his body, oh, oh, god… He was there, and he…
Oh, god!
Adrian stood up quickly, being careful to use his binder to cover the blatant bulge in the crotch of his jeans. He needed to get out. Needed out so badly he would stuff his fucking pride and ask the teacher if he could go to the restroom with a full-blown erection.
The sensations of pure, sinfully strong pleasure were still making his skin crawl, but they weren’t bad enough to make him gasp out loud like they had been a second ago. He knew the other was there, though, like the man was breathing down his neck… He shivered and swore he could feel cold touches ghosting along his side but he made no visible sign of the extreme discomfort he was under as he stepped up to the teacher’s desk.
Mrs. Jason glared up at him from her computer. He didn’t feel like starting any shit with her right then, he had to get the fuck out. Those gentle… touches… Nn, oh, god…
“May I go to the res-restroom?” he asked quietly, looking at her but not looking at her at the same time, his mind focused solely on his ever-growing issue. His skin was covered in goose bumps, he thought he might have been visibly shaking, he was suppressing the need to cry out with every feathery brush of freezing fingertips, and he was very, very turned on in a disturbingly sadistic way that was really scaring him.
“You already went earlier.”
Oh, oh…
“Please, miss,” he pleaded, the sensations getting too much to bare. He needed… out… needed… “I-I think I’m going to vo-vomit, seriously, please.” He probably looked like he was about to puke. He knew he was visibly trembling now, and he felt cold and sick and scared and, Jesus CHRIST, the horniest he ever had in his fucking life! In a classroom!
The fingers were everywhere, they just wouldn’t stop, fuck, and it felt so good…
“Fine. Take the pass.”
Without a word he turned and nearly ran from the class, snatching the pass on his way out and making sure never to let his problem be visible. The walk to the restroom seemed to take forever, that feeling not leaving him one step, and he was so glad when he got to the restroom and there was no one else there.
He tossed his pass and book to the ground once he was in the restroom and leaned his back against the cold tiled wall next to the sink. The fingers weren’t being as persistent as they had been in the classroom, but they were still there, touching him, caressing him…
“Why the fuck are you do-doing this to me?” Adrian groaned, leaning his head back and looking down at the bulge over his jeans through half-lidded eyes. What the hell was he supposed to do?
He half-way expected an answer.
There wasn’t one.
Standing there for about five minutes, Adrian simply had to wait. The touches slowly faded away, along with his erection, and when he was sure it was over he stood up straight and went to grab up his papers from the floor.
And…
There was a zipping whoosh-like noise, like a heavy object moving at incredible speed…
He thought he was going to die.
His back felt like it broke with the force it hit the wall with. His head snapped back, hit the tile with a sickening simultaneous thud and cracking sound, and then forward. He was in so much pain and so dazed that he couldn’t lift his head to see who his attacker was, but he knew without having to see.
Cold breath against his ear… Icy fists pinning him against the wall by his wrists…
Then, one fist uncurled from his wrist and moved to his face; when the man’s slender white fingers slid beneath his chin and forced him to look up all he could do was stand there, supported only by the other man, and he started to tremble again.
Then… he didn’t know. Then those blue orbs were everything, they were all he could see, all he knew; his pain and confusion and entire sense of existence vanished. Right there, they were right there, closer than they had ever been, and he felt like he was floating. Blue, blue, blue…
“Atia…”
Oh.

His eyes snapped open. He was lying on his stomach on the floor, still in the boys’ restroom, his book and pass above his head. No one was there… and the tile was cold under his cheek, which meant he hadn’t been there for long.
He also wasn’t bleeding, nor was he in any pain.
Frowning, but not getting up from the floor, Adrian felt the back of his head gingerly. Nothing… No sign of a fracture or broken bone, no blood, nothing…
What the hell?
It must have… all been in his head.
Ha!
In his head. Fucking hilarious. Just like all of the other bull shit he saw was ‘in his head.’
But…
Atia? He’d said it in that dream-thing, whatever it was. It was the man’s name. He didn’t know how he knew, he simply did. That was strange… This whole fucking day was strange! Well, shit, none of his days were ‘normal,’ but this was just… fucking baffling.
He wanted to go home right then so he could try and figure all this shit out. Confused was beyond an understatement for his state of mind at that point in time; his room had all the necessary things to make him relax.
Well, there was only one more class to go… He guessed he could last the day. If no more incidents were doomed to occur, that is. And, from there on, the day was completely uneventful. He didn’t even feel the ma— Atia… He didn’t feel… Atia as strongly as he usually did. But he couldn’t stop thinking about him, couldn’t stop thinking about the events that had taken place in the English class.
On the bus ride home that was all he could think about as well. That incident in the bathroom had to have been real… just not physically. It must have been a message or something like that. But what could it have meant? The back-breaking push into the wall would have indicated that Atia meant him harm, but then his gentle fingers, and how he just… looked at Adrian, how the man had suddenly become his center, his existence; how he had become everything to him.
And then…
The pain, in the classroom, and that smirk on his lips… Those were also shows of aggression. But he’d left Adrian with an erection, for Christ’s sake! And then… those hands… must have been Atia’s, because Adrian had felt only his presence. He could differentiate between the others, and Atia, out of all of them, had the most recognizable aura amongst them. The strongest, as well, and just everything about him was different from the other creatures.
The other creatures could be anything; they were a decayed little girl in a mud-and-blood-spattered dress on the other side of the street, standing very still and staring with wide, red eyes. They were a giant snake wrapped around a street light or a dog limping down the highway, its back leg and part of its face missing. They were a man lying very, very still on the closet floor, his eyes wide and dead and staring. They were demons of all sorts, they were animals of any kind, they were even perfectly normal-looking people that walked around like everyone else.
They all had a presence about them, though; an aura of the supernatural. Sometimes that was the only way that Adrian could tell them apart from real things; when he was a kid he used to try to talk to some of the not decayed or deformed otherworldly people and had gone through so much shit for it.
Of course he pretended he didn’t see anything anymore; although his mother had just started to accept his differences and had stopped taking him to therapists, when she had died he was given over to the custody of his aunt. And she…
To say the fucking least she thought he was purely satanic. Worse than that. She thought he was the goddamn reincarnation of the devil or some fanatic bullshit like that. He’d only been, what, six? That sure hadn’t stopped her from using physical and even worse mental methods of ‘fixing him.’
And her methods?
He didn’t want to think about it…
Shaking his head slightly, he looked out of the bus window and watched as his stop approached. His house wasn’t too far away from there; after about a minute of walking down the sidewalk he turned up the driveway of a two-story house that was identical down to the very last fucking brick of every other house in the KB homes. Oh, wait, they varied in colors, sorry. Well, his house was a blessed beautiful color of pale gray, sort of like an elephant had just lain down and died on the lot and now he was living in its corpse.
Yeah.
Fuck you too, God.

~!~

*(Don’t Fear) The Reaper by Blue Oyster Cult
VIVA LA ROCK BAND
YOU ARE MY GOD