(Working Title) Something Oddly Satisfying
Age Rating: 18 +
The week had passed with the speed of an ancient snail--slow, to say the least. Staring out of the window, sucking slightly on the straw of the apple juice packet, Poppie studied the moving van next door. Already, the murder case had been pushed underneath the rug, but he was amazed at the speed in which the house was going to be inhabited. Normally, the landlord had to search pathetically for months for someone to fill the vacant lot. This time, it seemed as if it had been yanked up with a speed beyond comprehension. Cheeks puckering, he gave a last, futile inhale to the contents of the cardboard box, brows furrowing as he listened to the last drops of moisture pulling up into the straw. Why did they have to run out so fast?
"Don't do that too hard, baby. Your eyes may pop out of your head," came the familiar, teasing voice. Spinning on his heel, Poppie's eyes rested on Onyx, fresh from the shower, wet hair plastered down to his cheeks and jeans the only object clothing on his body. A soft shiver overcame the pink haired boy, and he felt a little smile lift the corners of his lips.
"You're only jealous because I work harder on the juice box than I do on you," he teased as Onyx opened the fridge, studying the barren contents with a scrutinizing eye.
"You had me fooled," he murmured, reaching into the back. A moment later, his hand emmerged, holding something distastefully between two fingers as he stared with a clearly perturbed expression. "What was this?" he demanded, lifting the edge of alluminum top, giving a hesitant sniff. Poppie shrugged.
"Probably the spaghetti," he replied, glancing back out the window to where the movers were hefting in a couch.
"We haven't eaten spaghetti for three months," Onyx accused. Distracted, Poppie just shrugged.
"Just because it's in the fridge doesn't mean it's edible," he said a bit defensivly, studying the movers to try to find who it was who would be their new neighbor. Maybe they would be nice, and this time, Onyx wouldn't kill them? Behind him, Onyx shuddered, dropping the container into the trash can.
"For some reason, I was under the exact, opposite impression..." After a few more moments, he came to the conclusion that finding food was a futile mission, and he turned his focus back to Poppie. Noticing his lovers lack of attention, he made his way over to stand behind him, hands settling onto his hips and chin resting on his head. "What are you looking at?" Poppie smiled, leaning back into him, nuzzling against the warm neck presented to him. He moved his hands down to Onyx's, pulling them from his side to wrap around his waist, keeping his own arms ontop of his.
"Someone's moving in," he replied. Onyx didn't much care, instead, his entire attention focused on the warmth in his grasp. His hold tightened possessivly, his mouth lowering down to bite onto his shoulder. Poppie giggled softly, looking to him. "Did you hear me?"
"No." Poppie batted at the top of his head, Onyx grumbling as he reluctantly released his teeth.
"We have new neighbors," Poppie said again, giving a little bump back against him to make sure Onyx heard. Onyx glanced up dissinterestedly, shaking his head a little.
"So?" he replied, returning to gnaw on the collarbone. Poppie looked to him, brows lifted into his bangs with a hint of surprise.
"So?" he copied, attempting to shrug his mouth off. "So maybe this time you can try not to kill them, and we can maybe make friends? So maybe we should go over and say hi? So maybe--"
"I don't want to make friends with anyone!" Onyx growled, prickling with annoyance. He hated when Poppie started wanting to be around people. What if Poppie found someone better? Someone who wasn't as deadly as him? Pulling away, Onyx went back into the kitchen, hoping to escape the conversation. Yanking open a cupboard, he started rummaging through, his stomach growling quietly with hunger.
"Onyx..." Poppie's voice was small, worried, as he watched his lover shove aside empty boxes with sheer irritation. Pullling out a cereal container, he shook it, listening to the crumbs before chucking it into the trash.
"Damn it, Poppie! How many times do I have to tell you not to put the empty boxes back in? And you'd think you could get rid of some of the shit in the fridge?" Slamming closed the wooden door, he pushed open the top on the bread box, before noisily closing that as well. Pressing back against the window sill, Poppie's hands clutched the ledge, heart dropping as he watched him.
"I...I'm sorry," he stuttered meakly, looking down. He hated when Onyx got angry at him. Grunting, glaring disapprovingly around the kitchen, Onyx resisted the urge to go over and kill the new neighbor in broad daylight. In truth, the lack of food or the mess of the kitchen really didn't bother him too much. It was Poppie's desire to know others, to be around others. Poppie was his. And while he wanted him to be happy, he just didn't understand why Poppie couldn't be happy with just him. Why did Poppie have to care so much about other people? Crossing his arms over his chest, he bit the inside of his lip, fuming, eyes glued to the rat hole in the baseboard of the kitchen. If he killed the latest neighbor, Poppie would never forgive him. And he knew it wasn't healthy to hold such a tight reign on such a social butterfly. And he knew he had to trust Poppie. It was in one of those books that he had found in some woman's car after he killed her--something about "the key to succesful relationships". The whole trust thing. He had to trust Poppie, even if he couldn't trust himself...
Sighing, he swiped his hand through his wet hair, looking out of the window.
"Would it really make you happy if we..." he sneered, lips pulling back in a slight snarl. "'Made friends' with the new neighbor?" Tearful eyes slowly turned up to him, confusion shining through. Poppie swiped at rust colored orbs, giving a little snifful.
"Is that what this is about?" he asked, voice small. Brows furrowing, Onyx let out a deep exhale, walking back over to him. "I just want to get to know them, that's all. It would be nice to have someone to talk to when you're out, or to have friends to have dinners with. But if you don't want to, that's fine." Poppie met him halfway, reaching down to take his hands and tangle their fingers together, pressing into him, head resting against his chest. "I love you so much, Onyx. Please don't be mad at me. I'll clean out the entire kitchen tonight, okay? And I'll buy food...I start my job with Luscious today. I'll start carrying my weight around here, I promise!" he swore, voice cracking. Onyx's heart wanted to break. He hated being the cause of Poppie's tears.
"No...I'm sorry...you just focus on your job," he murmured into his hair, prying his fingers from his, only to pull him back into his hold. "And don't worry about pulling your weight. I'm just on edge...I'll try to get along with them. I just don't like neighbors." Poppie suddenly giggled.
"Which is why you killed the last three?" he teased. Onyx smirked, feigning a growl as his hands sought out his sides.
"I'll show you, kill," he hissed playfully, biting down on his neck as his fingers found their target, tickling mercilessly. A squeel escaped from Poppie's lips, immediately attempting to struggle, laughing happily.
Life was good. If they could spend forever, just like this, niether of them changing--still bickering over little imperfections, loving each other and the baggage each brought, it would have been heaven on Earth.
But nothing lasts forever.
Green eyes watched the two struggle and laugh through the window, the new neighbor lighting up a cigarette as she gave a little sigh. What a cruel world the gods had made. How she hated to pull those two apart.
Taking a slow drag, she closed her eyes, letting the nicotine flow through her veins, soothing her guilt. Sometimes, things had to happen the way they had to happen. A soft smile lifted her features--at least she could go home soon. Home...if only she were home... Shaking herself out of the reverie she had found herself in, Melinda glanced back over her shoulder through thick brown, wavy strands of hair, watching the men sweating as they lugged a heavy amoir up the path.
"What the fuck is in here?" one panted. She flicked her cigarette.
"A body. And if you drop it, yours'll join it." They both glanced over nervously. Melinda flicked the cigarette, looking across the street to two small boys setting up a lemonade stand.
Well you two, she thought to herself, noticing the darker one glancing her way. Let's get things started.