#need to stop rendering pieces in aggie

[leachidactyl]

old man yaoi

[castawxayaway]

different personas

pretty sure someone actually requested this over a week ago... I am so sorry for how late this actually is! if you didn’t know I moved away from home on Sunday for university. It's been rough I guess? I won’t go into it as this is about my writing, so I hope you enjoy! :)

(also its Wills birthday and if you haven’t seen the photo that Kyle posted HOLY FUCKING SHIT IT IS THE BEST THING EVER)

collection of writing

Taking a stranger's hand I place my sturdy boot onto the table, feeling it wobble with instability as I balance on top of it, trying to ignore the gentle intoxication sway. I close my eyes as I focus on the beats of the music, moving my hips along to it and bringing my hands up into my wig. It feels too plastic, too obvious that it’s fake, but then again he is the one who chose it for tonight. The vivid pink that becomes blinding in the sunlight, but distracts them from him taking their things. 

I’m a focus piece, dressed bright enough with my dress short enough to cover my decency that makes their heads turn and not shift for as little as ten minutes. Tonight I dance on the table as the sun begins to set outside, the soft amber shades melting through the windows and highlighting my silhouette. I move my body with a smile on my face, secretly loving the attention and dancing in unknown places for a short while whilst he picks up the wallets those stupid enough left on the counter. 

Smiling to myself I open my eyes to see him picking up the last wallet, taking enough to cover a few days of petrol and motioning for us to leave. As I stop moving and stand still his eyes widen, the keen glimpse crosses the blue as he motions once more that it’s time to depart and move on. I turned around, trying to find my route down. Yet arms began to touch my legs, pushing it back up playfully as I laughed at them. 

Moving my focus I spot him, a stern look setting hard in his eyes, his smile downturned. I shake my head as I see his fists form, “Hey guys, I’m sorry but that’s enough dancing for one day.” Joking with these drunken men they all laugh, fake complaint and reply with humour rather than anger. 

I try to shoot him that look, a soft smile on my face to convince him it is okay, that he doesn’t need to react. But the pink on my head, the fishnet tights I opted for along with their drunken playful smirks don’t seem to persuade him. He shoves the last bit of money in his back pocket before barging past the larger guys, fighting his way through to get to me. 

They began to part, making a clear pathway for him to reach me. I crouched down until I was in a sitting position, my legs still dangling like a child on a chair too tall for them to manage. My feet remain pointed as I sit still, a prize waiting to be collected by the lucky winner, each of the guys around me eyeing up a different aspect of my body, but all I can focus on is the icy blue in his eyes.

He simply grabs my hand and I follow like a child who has misbehaved, stepped out of line. Secretly I knew I’d taken it too far, usually, I dance for a few minutes and leave quickly, but this time, with a different look and a new persona I felt rebellious, flirtatious. Yet I knew he didn’t like it, I wanted tonight to be for me, not for him. He cares so much, sometimes too much as we abruptly leave after being here for less than an hour. We’ve made a scene, been made memorable rather than elusive. He’s blown our cover or some gentle smiles and light-hearted humour because he is protective, because he is himself, his own worst enemy.  

Neither of us speaks up, make a sound as we hurry back to the car. Looking at it I’ve lost count which number this is classed under, how many he has taken in the dead of night whilst I sleep soundly. He just turns up, new car, new drive and opportunities ahead. We’d take on new names, we felt like Bonnie and Clyde without the tragic ending, at least we did. The doors creak open with rust, with an element of pain as I sit down barely able to put my seatbelt on before he starts the engine and darts off, too eager to leave another place behind, but never empty handed.

Taking the wig off I let my hair flow behind me, the wind picking it up and twirling through it creating curls in the ends. Gone is that identity, whoever she may have been. Sitting here with him now I feel like myself as if I were watching me do what I did whilst my boyfriend watched in confusion at my behaviour, at what I was doing, unlike anything I’ve considered doing ever before. “What came over you?” He keeps his eyes locked on the dusty road ahead, no signs for miles to be seen, but he can’t shift his focus, he just keeps his eyes forward on the deserted road.

I fiddle with my fingernails, trying to find some form of a distraction but it renders to nothing, a useless attempt. “It was just a bit of fun, Dan. We always do the same thing, you get the money and I distract. I was feeling adventurous.” My voice fades into nothing whilst I can tell he awaits an apology, a sense of regret waiting to be announced in my voice. “What’s so bad about that? Just because you’re jealous.”

His grip on the wheel tightens as his arms tense, I can see him clenching his jaw through the thick beard that he’s been growing over the course of these few weeks. “I’m not jealous.” He tries to shrug it off, act as if it’s not a big deal, but the tension that rises as it embeds itself into the rust that grows around the doors it cannot be ignored like the broken wing mirrors. “It’s just, you’re all I have.” The atmosphere plummets as night descends upon us.

“I just want to have some fun once in a while Dan, we’re always on the road. No one remembers us so why not let me laugh in a pink wig occasionally? I won’t let anyone hurt me, I mean remember when that guy tried to grab my thigh in Utah?” We both start laughing as my mind casts back to his bloody nose as I kicked him with my heeled boot.

His expression softens, “That was a good day.” I can see him reminiscing, that part of him that he longs for, that we both secretly long for. Back then there wasn’t an addiction to this lifestyle, we were two lost souls looking for a laugh, but we took it too far. 

Whatever this is, our way of living it has consumed us both. “You mean too much to me. I can’t stand seeing over hands on your waist or those smirks that you give that are meant for me, not anyone else.” He states as we near a railing, a never-ending cage holding something inside. 

“And I’m not going anywhere, so you don’t have to get all touchy or aggy in those situations. I can fend for myself without needing a security guard for a boyfriend.” I partially kid, wanting him to understand, see my side and point in all of this. 

He continues to drive along with some guidance from streetlamps faintly lighting a broken road for us as we drive alongside the never-ending metal caging. Focusing on the dully lit exterior of our car my peripheral vision shifts from the dying trees to him in the driver's seat, his grip has now loosened from the wheel and his jaw is no longer tensed. He’s calm, he’s relaxing knowing it’s all alright, as it always will be. 

Just me and him, on the open road.