Chapter 1. Faultlessly Fucked Up
The austere gray heavens shuddered violently. Skeletal, black fingers of desolate forest caught against the clouds, now a brooding company of modest plumes. They bloomed steadily upon the threateningly turbulent skies. 'Why did it have to rain now?' Watery, silver light spilled from the breach in the swollen, glossy bolls, collecting in blinding puddles against the glittering blue pavement. I sighed dolefully, scraping mud from the heels of my ratty, black Converse All-stars. My eyes smoldered with somber, bottle green light, sobriety long lost to fervor.
Beads of acidic rain tore into my shoulder blades, the unpleasant feeling biting pitilessly into the nape of my neck. I didn't have a pot to pee in, nor a window to throw it out of. I was alone. I was someone's dejected derelict. And I was drunk.
I cast my distorted gaze upon the once dewy emerald lawn, stained with golden, dappled light. Mottled with sprays of silent beds of stippled pink and orange blossoms. The once pompous blue heads of hydrangeas hung dejectedly in the gentle rain. It had been a pretty day out. I toyed absentmindedly with dishwater blonde locks, winding golden strands idly amid my fingers.
I lifted the thick, discolored folds of my jacket's hood over my head, pulling the drawstrings tight until they slid across my sweaty palms, leaving behind little red welts. The voices blared obnoxiously in my head, further aggravating my already pulsing migraine. My dewy pink lips worked silently, forming broken mantras and abandoned theories in the sky. Everything just looked so... severe. So polemic, and old-fashioned; positively archaic.
I tottered gracelessly and stupidly, smiling blissfully to myself. A strangled cry passed my lips as the gritty pavement came up to meet my palms, digging relentlessly into my knees. My face contorted childishly as I muttered stale, faltering curses beneath my breath. The bottle shattered stridently against the curb, violently disturbing me from my drunken eulogy. A balmy apprehension settled into the pit of my stomach, and I emptied myself out onto the driveway. My hand reached up and toyed with the silvery thorn dangling freely from my ear. I grunted, and plopped down against the curb. I fingered the soft tears in the knees of my sandblasted, baggy jeans.
I looked good this year. Different. My blonde hair grew a little past the nape of my neck, and my eyes had gotten...bluer, or something, 'startlingly blue', Kyle had told me. I had changed the whole 'orange parka' thing. Now it was a hoodie, striped, black and gray, soft, a little loose-fitting. I scratched at my black 'Mayhem' t-shirt. Most people would call me 'punk', or some shit like that. Yeah, I still looked at porn, I still fucked like a rabbit, I still had the same close friends--I was the same.
I had a job, working at some coffee place, and I made good money. I had a car now, a black Kia. Not some Ferrari, but I kept it clean. I wouldn't let Craig smoke in it, and I made sure that Tweak didn't have some seizure in the back seat and smash out a window.
I broke from my whole 'reverie' when I heard scratching against the pavement ahead of me.
I glanced up, surprised to see a blonde head bobbing up to meet my gaze, disturbingly blue eyes studying me anxiously, truly concerned. "Gee, K-Kenny, a-are you all right?" That voice...
"B-Butters?"
He realized I had been talking to him, and he smiled happily. He was wearing a loose, bright yellow, hooded t-shirt, and black capri-length pajama pants and ankle socks. He looked as though he was about to go to bed. His blonde hair was tousled cutely, and his brilliant, clear blue eyes were wide and childlike.
He held out a hand, smiling adorably. "What are y-you doing out here, t-tonight, Kenny?" I offered him a smile, and took his hand, brushing myself off. I staggered dangerously, before falling into him slightly. 'Damn... he smells like vanilla and baby lotion...' I sighed contentedly, before mentally kicking my ass.
Before I knew it, he was leading me to his doorstep.
"M-my parents are g-gone for the week."
'Hmmm...'