#v | ᴍᴀʀʟʙᴏʀᴏ ɴɪɢʜᴛs

[untestxd]

(continued) // @wantslife​  07 .   a  kiss  to  say  what  you  can’t  say  aloud .

 i. ‘ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ sᴛɪʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ, ʜᴜʜ?’.

Regret stung even now on his tongue. Like that rush of heat that sizzles away at flesh when you just can’t resist that first scorching bite of a pizza pocket. Mouth agape, gasping for air as you instantly rue such foolishness. He had snorted with laughter at the first sight of his fair-weathered friend’s radical new appearance. It had been the shock of it, more than anything. Scott didn't exactly ‘get’ the whole gender thing, not quite yet at least. Years later, when he was more travelled, he’d be more understanding of the matter. But you didn’t need to get why gravity worked to know it exists. No apple, no tree was needed to see that Adam looked so much more comfortable swamped in those grungy clothes of his. And he looked..better(?) for it too.  Was it the new-found confidence? The sheer ballsiness of it all to just.. own yourself? Despite what anyone thought? Finally, someone had been paying attention to Scotty, huh?

But truly, it was remarkable how little could change despite such drastic transformation. That long, dark, curly hair had been so easy to grab onto( weapon of choice in hand-to-hand fray) had vanished. Hell, it was shorter than Scott's own now. He, how had taken inspiration from his rock idols and decided to let it grow out in the last year, scraggly and untamed.

This was still him. Still Adam, despite artifice. The same dorky laugh.The same dorky smile. Did it shine brighter now? Was it because he could see more of the boy's face? Or was it that reclamation of identity? Or had he just forgotten how… radiant it could be?

Adam was still Adam, and Scott was still Scott. Something about that was comfortable, yet all the more off-putting. How could he have grown so much over one year? sᴜɴғʟᴏᴡᴇʀ, ʀᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴇᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇ sᴋʏ! Leave that prickly cactus in the shade.

ii. sᴛᴀʏ

Uneducated sailor, how weary you look with that map so clutched so tight in your hands. You look up at the stars, an endless barrage of light amongst inky nothingness. Your body feels so small, laid still against tattered planks of that lonely shipwreck. A black-eye, swollen and bruised is no eyepatch, fierce pirate (no matter how hard you pretend).

 Fingers can try to reach out, try to grab them—- but they were never yours to command. You’re adrift, lost cast out at sea; the stars cannot guide you home, you can’t chart them. Perhaps this is where you’re destined to drown, the deep is still far too deep for you.

ʙᴜᴛ ᴀᴠᴀsᴛ! What lies there over the horizon? Fear no more, here returns the morning’s gentle break rippling gold over broken tide. Nourishing frozen bones and granting that merciful peak beyond the curvature. Land ahoy, you’re closer to home than you realised.

Be quick! The days grow shorter with each passing moment— before you know it, it’ll be gone again. You can plea for it’s company all you like, but remember; it is not the sun that orbits you.

iii. ᴡᴀsɴ’ᴛ ɪᴛ ᴏʙᴠɪᴏᴜs?

How unimpressed Scott had been when he rocked back up to school, only to have the nerve of being taller than him now. An inch or two would make all the difference. He was lankier in frame, where Scott’s stockier build hadn’t quite lost his baby-face just yet. A poor attempt at a moustache would begin it’s journey to mask those features. Trailing round the corridors, acceptance came in the typical form of jest and banter.

( Yeah well, at least my dick is still bigger than yours! ) Ever the eager ally, the ultimate wing-man, Scott Tibbs. (Always the bridesmaid and never the bride) He’d practically helped all of his friends get set up with someone else at parties. The prize for being in the know, knowing just what made people tick, and how to get other’s to tock. Was he covering up his own discomfort of such change in Adam? Overcompensating in order to mitigate that knot in his chest every time he smiled at him?

He was never one to get tongue-tied, he was the bane of every freshman English class. Reputation preceded even him, you could smell the fear on each frail book-humping bitch when his name is called from the register. A ghost haunting over inky scrawl.  (Scott…Tibbs? ..Are you related at all to Kevin Tibbs?)

Ditching 6th period together to enjoy the last of the day’s sun, smuggled contraband under the bleachers. He’d listen to the boy ramble about whatever sad-sack he had his heart set on this week. The unending serial that was Adam Stanheight. One who’s re-runs would never get boring.

(adam? really? wow. inventive. That’s what you’re going with? What you do? Get to the first page of the phonebook and give up? You coulda picked any name! Adam. Fuckin’ pussy name.  )

He’d do his best to play loyal comrade, clown and jester- but man it pissed him off whenever those assholes just…ditched him like that.  Didn’t they know how…lucky they were?

ɪᴠ. ɪᴛ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ᴡᴀs

What’s wrong, Scotty? Where’s uh—-     that little girlfriend of yours gone?

Despite teasing sibling’s moniker, Scott had never seen Adam like that before. Not really. Crushes came and went, sure. Nina in 3rd grade, Lea in 7th. It was either him or Adam who usually screwed it up for him. Jealousy spiked in young boy’s strange choice of a friend, or simple mindless attempt to express his feelings in the only way he’d learned how; mindless repetition- teasing and hair pulling didn’t work on other kids like it did Adam. Sticky child could always hold his own, always fight dirty. Gap-tooth smile wide as they scrambled in the sand pit.

It was never the same. He always just felt like Adam got him. Listening to that goofy laugh as Scott jams out on air-guitar, insistent on listening to that one solo over and over until it burned into both of their minds. How it would mellow out years later, to the two just staring up at the ceiling, still listening to those same songs, content in shared silence.

Laying out on the mattress at home in dingy isolation, his brother in the next room with a group of ‘friends’ he’d never seen before. He’d shove those headphone on over his head and close his eyes tight. Sometimes it felt like Adam was still there. That Scott wasn’t here.

A teen boy is a teen boy regardless of anything; and it wasn’t unnoticeable that Adam’s body had begun to change. Ever the subject of teasing, a harsh twang of a bra-strap was met with grapple and loogie threatened dangling above Scott’s head. What had been such familiar gesture and interaction drove hormones wild. Hand accidentally grasped at soft tissue as he made his defence.

That was a no go. A NO GO.  It was weird! It was Adam. Like a brother to him, spit-shared handshakes cementing brotherhood on glorious summer nights.

But, Adam had changed.  Everything had changed now. It was…different. Now he was like a real brother. And where ignorance twist with feelings left the stupid boy feeling even stupider. Those.. feelings hadn’t gone away. Infact, they’d only grown stronger- but now repression fuelled (gasoline drenched) in other matter’s of Scott's own identity. Did this change anything? Everything?

-- And here he find himself again in Adam’s room. Man, there had been so much he’d missed out on in the last year. Somewhere between what Dru said to Elliot, to Rhi, to River—- all of it had been so busy. And all so meaningless. But he had to stay in the know, right? And whatever minute he spent ranting and raging on about teenage drama bullshit, he wasn’t thinking about just how close he was sat to the taller teen. Wasn’t thinking about how soft that smile looked on his features. Wasn’t letting his eyes falter down ever now and so often as grin tugged corners on his own. 

 He gets into his own story, with all the theatrics that came with it. But he was caught, frozen still like a screenshot captured at just the right time. He hadn’t seen it coming, and he certainly hadn’t expected it.It’s soft, and it’s warm. His words are stolen as he feels Adam kiss him, tender lips plush against his own dry smile. 

He sort of freezes up, system rebooting, trying to figure out what on Earth had just occurred. Adam… had kissed him. He was kissing him. Scott was..kissing him back. It was a rush of emotion that the wanna-be rockstar had never at once considered—- but, this was happening. This was happening? He tastes.. sweet. He isn’t quite sure what he’s meant to do, though in instinct lets lips part just a little to catch him back

Scott Tibbs, was this your…first kiss?

No, no. Of course not. This was Scott Tibbs we were talking about here. Bad-boy, deviant, nuisance. Disrupter of class, the clown everyone wanted at their party.He had plenty of friends he’d helped hook up together. Surely.. he’d done far more than even just kiss someone, right?Wrong. With all the shit that had been going on in his life, he had sort of forgotten about getting to this chapter with someone, somewhere, for himself. And his inexperience was put on display painfully here as hands freeze in previously gesticulated motion. Does he close his eyes? Does he keep them open? Does he do something? He pulls away, cherry-stained taste lingering on his lips wordlessly. What.. what does he say? What does this mean? What…? What?? He doesn’t know if this is good or it’s bad. No, this certainly wasn’t bad. This was just. A lot had changed. He swallowed, eyes wide as he scan’s Adam’s features for some sort of answer, like it would be etched somewhere in that face of his.  But it wasn’t in his smile. It was…it was in the kiss. The answer was there somewhere, on the… tip of the tongue?

ᴠ. ᴅᴏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ.

And he knows. So he does. And he smiles.

@wantslife​

[untestxd]

i wasn’t expecting to see you here.

party  sentence   starters. ( x )

Head whips around at the sound of the familiar voice, and near triumphant grin devours the teen’s features. “What? You don’t think I blend right in?” Scott’s question is baked in laughter, his chipped, black nail polish smoothing down the unearned jacket with glee. All it had taken was donning Adam’s previously-gifted team colours, sneaking in through the back, and keeping his head down. Scott would have been lying, however, if he said the other hadn’t made him jump just a bit.

But what a house party to have snuck himself into. Whilst it might not have been a total rager ( yet ), it was sure as hell well-stocked. Maybe that’s what you got when you were head of varsity and daddy had off-shore funds.

He gives the other a playful nudge, his smile that all-too-familiar brand of mischievous; he really shouldn’t have been there.

“What? You think I’m gonna miss the party of the year over some minor technicalities? What else was I gonna do? I was bored as fuck, man.” Another push, perhaps a little less playful. “Thanks for the invite - by the way.” Eyes are rolled as sarcasm spits from his lips, those wide hues then squinting in judgement for just a moment as he drinks.

But that is all soon dropped, as all things were, as he looks over Adam’s shoulder. “Besides,” a beat and eyes fall back to those familiar jades, “Got myself a mission tonight. —-For tonight, my dear friend, is gonna be the night.” Glee is rich and voice is electric on cherry-stained tongue; the grungy dropout is sheep in wolf’s clothing, fresh-lamb seeming all the more excited for his own slaughter.

@wantslife