Steven
Everything and everyone else in the world will leave eventually, he'll be alone; whiskey and painkillers, the closest thing to comfort— to that strange thing people call *Home*. Though no one will leave unscathed. Everything is riddled with claw marks and stains of red. School doesn't teach the basics of being a good person in any curriculum. You can't learn how to let go, reading a book, solving an equation, drowning in the contents of a lecture. 

He longed to let go.

He longed to be better than this.

**Go do some drugs or some shit and just fuck off.**

Crescent moons carved into his palms, ragged nails cutting into calluses and blisters. Toya knew him better than he even knew himself— they knew exactly how to bend him near to breaking. God forbid he ever truly shatter beneath this weight, he couldn't bear the thought of doing that to them; being weak, failing them and everything he'd ever promised. 
Sometimes, though, he could feel himself itching inside. Sometimes, this feeling roared in his ears; pounding of a drum, Incoherent screams. Sometimes, he swore he could see it on his body; the breakage and crumbling. Cracks blooming into his flesh, threatening to leave him in pitiful pieces at any moment; aged and overwhelmed porcelain, no strength to hold itself together for a moment longer. Every split in his being lessened what little humanity he'd ever possessed.

His phone screen should have melted by now; the way his gaze had so long been fixed upon those insignificant strings of letters. The words were nothing but a small prod at purpled scar tissue, it was his own mind that took a blade and tore the poorly healed wounds wide open. 

He forced himself to his feet, rummaged through the kitchen; a few prescription bottles ripped from their designated homes in the cupboards. Oxy, room temperature whiskey, the raw burning of liquor down the throat. It wouldn't be enough, but then again, nothing ever would. He hadn't the time to indulge further tonight though. He'd hurt Toya enough; he had to go, had to see them, had to make this all okay. 

Maybe if he had been there, they wouldn't have been forced to endure this.

Out the door, down the elevator, bottom floor, parkade, jingling keys, car, traffic. The city lights polluted the darkness as he weaved through the somewhat deadened lanes of traffic— always a little calmer at this hour.

Reuniting with Toya shortly after moving here, the rare break away from studies, penetrating eyes, and poisonous words all around him, he'd met them halfway at an old building. It was crumbling in some places and nearly pitch black inside aside from the light broken windows faintly filtered in. The doors were broken down, flights of stairs lead him and Toya up to the roof. An old apartment complex; the stench of mold and the scurrying of rats gave way to wordless stories of its downfall. Though, none of that stood out as much to him as the view from above. The building didn't stretch to scrape against the clouds, unlike many of the structures to populate the city, but the view was still fantastic. The people down below still appeared, insignificant and tiny from this height, and the sights of the city still carried on forever, beyond the perception of the pitiful human eye. One visit turned to two, turned to three, turned to four... Some days, they'd sit up on the ledge of that rooftop, hardly speak a word. Other days, they'd talk, dusk till dawn. Sometimes they talked about marriage, other days, falling off that ledge together. He could never fully decide which was more oddly romantic.

This time around was different though. The mold stayed, as did the rats and the crumbling bricks, but between himself and Toya, things were simply different. He wasn't good for them, they were starting to see it. Shame loomed over him as he panted and wheezed up the last flight of stairs, shoving the door to the rooftop wide open. Just a gut feeling, a sixth sense that they'd be here.

"Found you..."

He tiredly mused, steps staggered towards the ledge, weight settled in a tired drop next to Toya, legs swung over the rooftop ledge. He fixed his focus to the world down below. He wasn't quite sure if he could meet the pain in the others' eyes just yet.
Gary
It just took me 4 minutes to write "Beauty" I'm going to kms.
Scotty
Pfff- tired by any chance?
Gary
No, i just have no brain cells.
Scotty
Felt on a spiritual level
Mary
Regret. It was something that Toya rarely felt anymore- not if he had a choice in it, anyway. There was no point in feeling something so raw and disheartening when nothing could ever change- when nothing *Would* Ever change. It was mildly ironic, the way that he felt about regret as if the situation would be any different with his father one day. It was all just a losing battle, something that was pointless and never to occur. Somewhere in his brain, he understood that to his very core, but he never gave himself the chance to digest it. He clawed at his throat aimlessly, almost as if he was choking whenever he thought about it.

The trek up the stairs through the damp and dark building was nothing ever exciting and often times Toya would question why he even found solace in this place. Perhaps it was because he somehow felt that it was a physical reflection of his heart, his brain, of himself. It replicated the darkness he often felt was swallowing him whole, making him seem like he was disgusting and unmanageable. Although it wasn't something he'd ever admit himself, it also managed to mirror the way that he was still somehow salvageable to some extent. That there was a hidden beauty within even the grimiest of places, even if you have to work your way to the top to see it. It was poetic in a way.

Other would eventually find them here on this face rooftop. Sometimes, Toya wished he hadn't shown it to the blond so that he could have ended his wretched life years ago instead of making that godforsaken pact they sealed with drunkenly-inked initials and bleeding palms. Other times, however, he knew that if it weren't for that he would have done so and in doing that he would have missed out on his up-and-coming plan for revenge. He couldn't kill himself yet, no matter how badly he wanted to. His plan had to be complete before he'd eventually attempt to end his life in this very spot.
Gary
I was going to keep going, but i sort-of rushed it because i have to do something.

You're alright, take your time.

Oh also don't worry about matching the length, i know it's long as fuck.
Steven
A long way down. In another world, a better world, he'd leaned forward. His palms would absorb the texture of the gravelly, crumbling brick, an imprint. The wind, unforgiving as life itself, would slice at his features and tug at his hair as life happened to the clueless millions down below. In another world, he'd abandoned the brick. In another world, he flew. Wings wildly sprouted from the marred indentations against his scapulas, and for the first time in his life, he was better, worthy, good. For the first time, he would have smiled without strain as the plaster of the old mask shattered to dust. Everything is just right, and then it's not, and then it's over.

That's just a fantasy though; the kind he used to indulge in as a stupid kid.

He turned, rested his focus upon Toya; tear stained and tired. How many times had he seen them like this before? How many times had he found himself at a loss before the sight? He'd swipe away their tears if the salt hadn't already stained their cheeks. The high had set in and he hated himself. They would be disgusted if they knew. This was the easy way out; cheating on the hardest test. To be high, was to tease the thin borders between life and death. He'd never get any closer than this to the one thing he'd always craved. Ironic, when the world around him had begun to breathe, and the city lights below had begun to combust with vibrant color. The world seemed to simply thrive the moment he parted from it. His heartbeat drummed a broken rhythm in his ear. Muscles in his thighs, fingers, and eyelids had taken to twitching within the spacing of seconds. 

"I would." He eventually nodded, words nearly whispered.

Shackled to the earth, Toya held the keys to his freedom. He could tug and strain and scream, but all efforts would be deemed futile, as long as Toya was alive. He had promised them his life just as they had promised him theirs; a binding of blood, never to be broken. Their initials rested near to his heart; these promises had been engraved into his anatomy.
Mary
The wind that whipped past them, pushing and pulling in different directions as the trees aggressively swayed, small cracks in the building below creating a sort of whistle. The lights twinkled in the darkness, seemed even more vibrant with how blurry Toya's vision was and he wished to dance with them. Perhaps in another life, he'd be able to dance in front of the entire world without care, the sounds of nature being his personal orchestra in those moments— but that was only a fantasy. Achieving such a serene moment was nearly impossible as it stood now.

As Toya's question was replied just as he thought it would be, he gave a single click of his tongue as a form of unspecified acknowledgment. There were certain things in his life that were absolute, things like the fact that his father would never change and the fact that wherever he went, Keigo would eventually follow. Although reciprocated, he would never admit that, both to himself and the blond that sat beside him in a high-haze. From the corner of his eye, he could see the subtle twitches as his body reacted to the drugs Toya had told him to go take. He blamed himself for what the blond had done not long before arriving on the rooftop, as if he wouldn't have done it anyway regardless.

"You shouldn't." The reply was flat, devoid of any feeling as cerulean-blue eyes blurred further. Grabbing the familiar cigarette carton from his pocket, he pulled one of the paper-rolled tobacco sticks out and lit it before taking a long drag of it. After a moment, he exhaled, the smoke flying off into the wind as he offered it to Keigo. "I'm leaving soon and I don't want you to follow me." Leave where exactly? He wouldn't specify, ever the mysterious man he was, dancing around meanings with almost-poetic words and phrases that left a feeling of discomfort to those who listened.
Gary
It's terrible, but i wanted to give you a quick reply.
Scotty
Terrible my ass, your writing is always gorgeous

Keigo's gonna follow him 😒
Gary
Of course he is. LAMAOAO. Toya is talking about once the big reveal happens and he tries to kill himself.
Scotty
You thinking of actually killing Toya off because I can think of like a whole bunch of ways Keigo could meddle in that if you wanna keep him alive
Gary
Toya is genuinely going to try to, but kai finds him at the last minute and literally grabs him as he's slipping off the edge.
Scotty
The poor fucking babies my lord
Steven
They had him laughing, the tired yet unfiltered laughter he'd always reserved just for them. No one else could ever see him like this, and he'd worked to assure that all his life since the very moment he and Toya had collided. Only Toya could see the ugly thing beneath all these layers of deceit. He'd spent so much of his life away on pretty lies and performances, it was easy to forget there was something human behind it all.

Trembling fingers, he'd taken their cigarette, raised it to his lips for a drag. His breaths left him unsteady as bitter smoke filled in his hopelessly straining lungs. A moment passed and he had found himself smiling, snickering at their words; nothing about this was funny, yet he felt almost giddy. Again, he twists this blade deeper into his own abdomen.

"You keep telling me what to do..." A small cloud of smoke drifting sluggishly from his lips. His eyes were dark— they always were, not often were they downright empty though. "...You expect unrealistic things from me, Toya. I can't stop following you." He hated that this man was all he knew, he hated them for suggesting that he ever leave, he hated that it was so easy for them to say these things. 

The mere thought of being left only in the company of himself on this dreaded planet sickened him, welled up a familiar ache behind his eyes and a lump in his throat. To spend the rest of his existence staring down at his bloodied hands as the past wrung his neck, traced his scars, he was petrified. He didn't stand a chance in this living hell, not without Toya.

Maybe that made him pathetic.

"Pushing me away like this..." Curses to the way his voice broke as he spoke, watching the world rise and fall, inhale, exhale. "...It's pointless, futile. I've never left you. I never *Will* Leave you. This isn't an exception. Every step of the way..., I'll be here, got it?"
Scotty
He's so in love it's disgusting
Gary
I don't know how to finish this.

And then they kiss. /hj

"I don't know how to finish this reply off."

I just broke it into two messages.

LMAOAOAO. I don't know how to finish the reply. I have everything but like,,, the last bit.

Ong i'll make them kiss if i can't figure anything else out.

10/10 do recommend.

I'LL SET IT UP FOR A KISS AND YOU CAN DECIDE IF YOU WANT THEM TO. I'M A GENIUS.
Scotty
Damn then the cheating is gonna be Keigo's fault. God he's problematic 😒
Gary
He's single rn dw shawty. I already thought of that.

He is for when this rp is taking place. It's happening like an hour or two after he broke up with kai.

I do not condone this behavior ong i promise.

Oh my god both people toya is gay with have gold eyes. He has a type smh.

Gold eyes and dangerous.
Scotty
Sorta love and hate that for him??
Mary
"If my father is the most selfish man in the world, I am the most selfish person in the universe for not forcing you away from me." As if Toya could truly stop the other; he knew that he couldn't. Slowly, he blinked as his tears began to dry and his gaze grew more dull as the shimmer of the tears slowly vanished. There was a glint to them, however, that was dangerous and would prove to be worrisome in the near future. Sweeping over to see the other's golden eyes, he let out a shaky exhale, his shoulder just lightly touching Keigo's. It was easy to get lost in the sight of something as gorgeous as the sight of the sun.
Gary
You can't hear me, but i'm giggling.
Scotty
Your writing is gorgeous, gets me every fucking time
Gary
Thank you, yours is much nicer, though. After our first rp in that other server, i started trying to mimic it more.
Scotty
Embarassed to say I've taken a ton of inspiration from your style myself

K I'mma make them smooch

The way we talk about them, it reminds me of like, how you'd talk about two fucking barbie dolls when mashing them against each other or whatever idk that sorta shit kids do like hol on
Gary
I LAUGHED SO LOUD LMAOAOOAA.

ONG I'M GOING TO WAKE UP MY PARENTS AHAHAH.
Steven
He'd lived out his young years under the crumbling roof of a man and a woman. He shared their blood, their last name, he wore their features like his own. They weren't his family though, nor would they ever be. Maybe he was a broken record, but he knew well enough. His body ached, his conscience weighed heavy. *Father's don't do these things to their sons.* He would always think to himself, fixing his clothing, wiping blood from his disheveled body.
He believed in no god, never bothered to wish on a star, and yet, the very day he met Toya, something in him had been brought to peace, a crushing boulder shoved off his chest. He'd worship this now– this feeling, those eyes, like the prettiest seas. An absence in himself, in his life, he hadn't any other choice but to follow this boy to the ends of the Earth. 

No, *Selfish* Was far fetched. The word didn't belong to Toya, rather, his father and all the other terrible men in the world. A second's worth of dazed nonsense in his mind had led him to the conclusion that even he fit the title far better; a taker, no more, no less, like father, like son. All he knew was theft; robbing this man of time, energy, space. He could see the confliction within their gaze, reminiscent of a turbulent sea. They deserved freedom and he couldn't give it to them. Never ever.

He couldn't fucking let go. His uselessness flooded him with waves of burning resentment.

Their shoulders brushed. They were staring and so was he. The gorgeous blue of their eyes, the marred scarring of their pale skin. He was weak, he wanted only to cry, staring into their pain and the shortcomings of all that he'd simply stood by and allowed them to endure.

"I choose to stay. You're kind enough to keep me." He retorted with a weak smile as he reached for their hand, laced their fingers tight; the flesh melted, something messy and inseparable. "I don't like that word for you. It's unfitting and stupid...*Selfish*." The words were punctuated with quiet laughter. "...Selfish, my ass." 

All his life he'd pondered why he does these things; what possesses him to knowingly sicken himself like a dumb dog gnawing on weeds. He traced their figure with his eyes; the dark of night accentuated the appearance of Scars. In a way, everything was a reminder of the first time. *He laid with Toya, breathed in the sight of their body, and lowered himself to their bare skin. The pounding of their heart, the labor of their every breath. That night, that first night, he'd spent the longest time kissing every scar, head to toe.* Sometimes he wished only to do it again; remind them that nothing has changed, that they're okay, that everything will be okay, even if it takes years to be grounded again– at least as grounded as they could ever truly be.

Sitting on this ledge next to the other, he'd meet death in a forward fall. Though somehow, leaning towards the other instead felt just as dangerous. He raised his free hand and tangled it through their hair as he hesitantly closed the unbearable distance. His lips met theirs.
Gary
SHUT UP I LOVE YOUR FUCKING WRITING OH MY GOD.
Scotty
THIS IS ONE OF MY WORST I HATE IT
Gary
Makes me happy to read fr;

Ioa sldmfvbwpuirkgm

Makes my brian go brr.Rrr.Rr.Rr
Scotty
He's inevitable honestly
Gary
Let me make sure i'm finished with my chores rq.
Mary
In moments like these, however, Toya seemed to remember what it was like to be warm for even a short amount of time. As the words uttered from Keigo's lips continued, fingers lacing together in a messy sort of symphony, the ice built around him had slowly melted away. Not entirely, but it was enough to create a sort of gentle, but exhausted look in his blue eyes as he wordlessly stared back. He was selfish, he understood that, no matter how badly he may try not to be at times it was in his nature at this point. Something burned and branded into his mind to be thanks to his father's harsh trainings as a child. His selfishness wasn't a scorching heat like his father's, though, instead a subtle flame that was all too inviting. Comfortable at first, but quick to burn those who were around for too long.

"Then what word would you rather describe me as, birdie?" The nickname fell from Toya's chapped lips whisperingly, although a nickname he hadn't used in quite some time. Swallowing thickly, his eyes flickered down to Keigo's lips for one moment before they connected, finger tips pressing lightly atop the other's hands. Head tilting the smallest amount, his free hand reached forwards and lightly grasped onto the front of the blonde's hoodie, pulling him in just a little closer. It was warm for once, much warmer than the words alone had made him feel. For a second, a faint smile tugged at his lips before disappearing again as he let himself get lost in the other. One leg lightly knocked Keigo's and his grasp grew just a little bit tighter on his hoodie, his body set ablaze the longer they touched. The cold, unforgiving winter would never stop for Toya, but it did have it's warmer days.
Gary
Now i'm going to shower and then join.
Scotty
The bestiest besties
Gary
I made it sappy. Dknslsndjsndd
Scotty
I'm debating which direction I should take this

Lemme spam you with some ideas first

You're gonna hate me

Like more sad than the last one I think
Gary
I just like your writing.
Steven
Birdie...

*Every day, he heard it; shrill noise outside beyond the crumbling walls. The pitch was too high, too repetitive; no human would ever bother to waste their time and breath away on something so strange. Asking mom, he was rewarded with silence, asking dad, laughter. Some days, mom and dad would leave; those days were the greatest. He was supposed to enjoy the presence of his father; enjoy whatever he'd so kindly be given, even if it hurt, even if it broke him. Yet, he anticipated complete and utter solitude.*

*He remembered the day well; dragging his body across the rickety bloodstained floors, the effort leaving him to stew in a feverish sweat. Every motion was a reminder, another reason to retch. He was sick for reasons that were lacking of a name, an identity, a face. Across the floor, everything within these walls was so small, so cramped, and yet this pain made mattress to window a laborious trek. Window, he rested his chin against the stool, surveyed the mysterious outside.*

*That sound again, his heart skipped a beat. A bush outside, a little feathered thing hopping around through the branches and leaves. When it finally emerged, he gaped at the sight of its glorious feathers and dumbly struggled to comprehend. It's colors were impossible, so extremely vibrant in contrast to the bland palette of a humans; bright red, compliments of black wrapping around its strange, pointy little mouth. It opened to speak and that sound... That sound he'd sought a name and reason for all this time had slipped past it. The little creature provided him better company than mom or dad ever could. It was a bird apparently, that was what mom called it. Days passed by that window. He was unmoving. His father did as he always did when he was dense and drunk, Keigo had taken to clinging to the stool until his fingertips had begun to bruise, moonlight cast over his tear soaked features as he cried out wordlessly for that little bird, begging for it to return and take him too.*

*Let me fly away. Please let me fly away with you...*

*Toya met him as the little boy who'd always stare up at the sky and smile at those birds he'd always desperately envied.*

He snaked an arm snuggly around their waist, shuddered in the company of their touch, cursed himself for weakness. They were smiling against him and he couldn't help but to smile in turn, squeezing their hand tight, rubbing his thumb in absent patterns over their knuckles. 

"I donno anymore..." He murmured to their lips. A few kisses to the corner of their mouth, drifting eyes. "...I can't summarize you with a word... I just know how you make me feel, what I see, what I know... It's not pretty, it's never been pretty, but it's *You*..."

*You, who has held my hand when no one else in the world could bear the broken sight of me.*

*You, who has taught me how to live, how to exist on this planet.*

*You, who has become my home.*

He too had stooped to primal desperation. He dipped his feet into the water, now he couldn't bear to come up for air. What a wonderful way to drown. Breathless huffs rarely slipped past him. He accommodated every collision with parted lips, subtle nods, caresses. 

"...And I don't mind *You*... Not at all."
Gary
I am actually screaming rn.

They're so fucking.

Bfkssnsnsndndbdjsksjakajwnnfcnsiebjrbeoqbfdj.

Messy love always gets my mind going brrrr.
Scotty
It's always like, super unconventional while also being passionate as fuck. Love that shit
Gary
Fucking exactly. Don't get me wrong, i love romantic relationships that are wholesome and adorable and fun, but this kind just hits different.
Scotty
If you're in the mood for literate, this is here. Donno if I'll be up for a while to write or not on this end yet, still feeling it out
Gary
You're alright, don't worry.

I'm working on a response slowly, but i can't find anything i like.
Scotty
What's got you stuck?
Gary
It's not as poetic as yours.

Also not quite as long.
Scotty
I write weird though. I can't describe stuff as nicely as you so I depend on metaphors and symbolism, don;t compare based off of that 😭

Not as long, it can be whatever length you want, no expectation there
Gary
No you don't. You write nicely, poetically, in a way i struggle to. I write much more literally. I want to write more like your style.
Scotty
I find your writing gorgeous and I'll preach that until you believe it. There's beauty in every style and I envy a ton about the way you write. You wanna try a more poetic style though, try thinking of far fetched comparisons for whatever you're writing that can serve to paint a picture. Personify things. Use visceral and sometimes gross wording for physichal descriptions and feels...

There's nothing wrong with your writing though, I swear to god. I love your style; it's immersive, descriptive. It paints a picture, illustrates emotions well
Gary
Fuck off before i cry.

Your writing is really fucking stunning too.
Mary
"I-I-I-I-I-" Getting caught on the first word, Toya broke the kiss just enough to press their foreheads together, brows knit in frustration at his inability to start off the sentence straight. He wasn't nervous, he was *Never* Nervous, but he was emotionally fragile right now, more now than usual and it became evident in the way he spoke. "I ccccan't be pretty, but I c—can be me." Once he'd managed to get out most of what he wanted to say, he exhaled, a breath held that he hadn't realized had been sitting in his chest. His thumb absentmindedly rubbed the side of Keigo's, the gentle touches more than enough for him. He never asked for flowery words or pretty pictures, nor would he ever ask for them; asking for Keigo to stay by his side was far selfish enough of him and he would hold onto that simple request for the rest of his miserable life.

"I don't mind... Mind you either."
Gary
It's a little shorter than yours, but not by much. </3
Scotty
Fuck I love your writing.
Steven
Every touch was a tiny fire set to his flesh. A fire that seared away at every layer of his external being, charred him to the very core. The absence of their lips, their warmth, their taste, he died a little. Who was he to ask for more though? Not an inch of space between them, limbs entwined, the warmth of clashing breaths. He rubbed his forehead to theirs, one hand in their hair, unsteady fingers tangled through disheveled strands of off white. The other rested beneath the fabrics of their shirt, open palm pressed firmly to the heart.

"Toya..." He chuckled the first half, the biggest smile torn across his features. Their noses brushed, as did their lips, as did their everything. "...I don't want you to be pretty, that's not you. It's fake. I've got enough fake in my life already. ...I don't give a flying fuck about what you look like, actually..." The words left him without the slightest shiver of doubt, his half lidded gaze clashing against theirs. It wasn't the time or place to say it, but he would love the bastard with three heads, feathers and horns. They were already monsters; nothing could deter him anymore.

He allowed his lips to brush against their skin, a misguided paintbrush; no purpose, merely marking a torn and tired canvas. He relished in the shivers and twitches beneath, teasing their lips before drifting down, kissing against their jawline and the upper of their neck. Some places, he could feel the life coursing unwillingly through them; the pumping of their blood, the heat it conjured. Every now and then, it crossed his mind; how easy it would be to end this for the both of them. Pack a blade in his pocket, or sink his incisors into the give of the thin flesh. They allow him the luxury of trust; exposed veins, throat. It wouldn't take much.

Sometimes, it was easy to wonder if it would be better that way; no more of this. No more for them, no more for him. Two bloody bodies. He, at least, would die without regrets, one with his *Home*. But maybe the beauty of such an end isn't found in just the ending itself, rather, the gift of choice and the kindness of a mutually, knowingly shared blade. He would wait. It was for Toya to choose. He hadn't the right to be tired or ready just yet.

"...I've never cared about that, not truly..."

His eyes darted downward and he tugged at the others shirt, pulling it up, exposing their chest, their abdomen. Littered in scars. One thing people don't seem to understand about scars of these sorts is that there is no healing. These wounds are hesitantly patched; whatever stops the bleeding and the tears. His hands aren't wet or reddened to touch them, but the blood is still there; it's never gone away. These wounds are as fresh as the day Toya had endured those hellish flames; they still burned beneath the padding of curious fingertips. Fire to Toya's anatomy. Keigo lowered his head, brushed his lips against the marred, purpled skin. He looked back up, his eyes asked before the words sluggishly slipped away.

"May I..?"
Gary
Calmed me down, so thanks.

Your writing is really nice.

You should be proud of it
Scotty
Shit- that sounds, freaky-

I feel it dosen't make much sense to read
Gary
Physically? Yes, besides for the sickness.

The response makes me stupidly happily.

I'm re-reading it on my laptop.

If keigo killed toya at this point, i don't even think he'd be mad. The video has been made and is literally just waiting to be broadcasted so he gets his revenge even after death. He would die a happy man.

Well. A happy-ish-sort-of man.

So is keigo basically on top of toya now?

No no, you did, i just wanted to make sure. My head is spacey rn.

What if they're mid fuck and they just fall off the edge. How traumatic would that be.

Bro mid air they just look at one another and are like "Oh okay".

You think toya would say some dumb shit like "So you do think i'm hot?".

I'm going back and forth on it.

So,,,,, i might have got a bit excited and just,,,,,,,,

Started writing,,,,,,,,
Mary
"Yeeeeee–" Another pause that Toya took as he involuntarily drug out the one word he was attempting to say, brows furrowed together once again for a second before he huffed out. "Yeah." Giving a nod to solidify what he said, he leaned back until he was basically laying down on the concrete rooftop below. Golden staples dug into his half-healthy and half-burnt skin, but he couldn't feel most of it, too enraptured with what was going on in the moment. Grabbing at the edge of the others shirt and hoodie together, he gave a small tug upwards before pulling it over the blond's head in response. Haphazardly pushing it beneath his own body to both create a cushion for his back and keep it from potentially flying away, he did the same with his own shirt that had been removed only moments prior.

"So, you still— think I'm h-h-hot?" A playful grin tugged up at Toya's lips, his newly stapled face sending a sort of sting through his face that he ignored.
Scotty
Giggling and kicking my feet

And crying because they're sad

And your writing is beautiful
Gary
Jfjdjdjd thank you.
Scotty
I wonder if I can knock out a response before I pass out
Gary
You don't have to match the length or anything, i just got carried away.

Yeah i figured LMAO.
Steven
"Psh, the hottest..."

He grinned into those words. His shuddered breaths touched them before anything else.

A moment of hesitancy. The almost comfortable sense of dread. The familiarity and nostalgia of it all.

In a perfect world, his calloused fingertips wouldn't have snagged and caught against the cold metal of Toya's staples. In a perfect world, that metal wouldn't have to hold Toya together in the first place. In a perfect world, this is pure and untainted, just like how the movies always show it. Just like how it's supposed to be. Living in a fairy tale is no better than hardly living at all, though; Keigo wasn't good enough to make this perfect. He wasn't good enough to be loving, hold the others face like the world itself rests in his unworthy hands, spew beautiful sugary sweet things from his lips, reward the other for the endurance test of their life and for once, tell them what they needed to hear. He wasn't what they needed him to be; dirty fingerprints against a tattered canvas. 

He'd swallow down the shame if he could. 

He'd be better if he knew how.

God, how he longed to be better than *This.*

His lips brushed, then pressed against the rigged stapled lining of a large scar; the one that stretched as a tattered strip across their torso, greedily devouring the once thriving flesh of the area. He looked up again, no more than a second, and the blue of the sea had already crashed upon the sandy shorelines. Their eyes were his addiction, though that meant very little coming from an addict. Everything; all of them, he took it in as though he may never ever have the privilege again. Mental notes; the texture of rough skin beneath his tongue, the salt of sweat, the lingering scent of their last shower that had him stupidly smiling to himself. Such a badass when their signature scent was blueberry. The pungent stench of smoke hardly saved them.

He ran his hand down along the curved dip of their side, his lips blindly followed until they met with the borders of fabric yet again, the waistband of their pants resting, disheveled, just a little below the hips. 

"You're a work of fucking art..., I really hope you know that..."

His words abandoned him into the cold night air with breathless strain as he pulled himself back up, kissed the corner of their mouth.

Since college, he'd taken to the arts— painting specially. If the world wasn't so greedy and demanding, he would have lived with a purpose far less pitiful than this. He could have created; he could have been an artist. College, his amateur works were always vague. Abstract illustrations of a pain with no name, no face. That, and birds. Strange how the two things came hand in hand. Blood, and feathers. Violation and shrill chirps. It was stupid, really. But, back then, it was something, and *Something* Was all he needed to keep him going.

Those works belonged to him and only him; something beautiful sculpted of a life so ugly. No one could take that from him. No one but Toya, at least. They'd never believe him and he'd never tell, but reuniting with them dragged him back into the neglected world of pallets and paint brushes when he'd been alone and distracted by all else in life. The only change; these strokes were no longer made in his own honor. Suddenly, everything belonged to them. He resented the way they slithered into his thoughts. The seas of their eyes found their way into every piece. 

Yet, they were blissfully unaware of all the nights he'd spent, screaming, and kicking tattered holes into every canvas, every piece. They haunted him more cruelly than any ghost ever could. 
His eyelids trembled shut, lashes brushing against the others cheeks. The dark of night gifted the illusion of privacy and solitude; it was dark enough, they didn't have to see the trouble in his eyes.
Gary
They're so sickening ilove teh,
Scotty
I almost wanna rewrite it I hate it sm for some reason lmfao
Gary
It paints a pretty picutre for htier reltaionaship.
Scotty
I just randomly remembered detailing that Keigo is super into painting on my doc for him 😭 I'll reread it for a bit, for now I'm bitter over it
Gary
Sjdfjsfhuif fondt me.

"Such a badass when their signature scent was blueberry" Man i think that's so much fucking funnier than it is.
Mary
Such a compliment did not fit Toya, not what he stood for or what he was comprised of. A tired person– a tired *Kid*– refusing to end his own life out of a selfish desire to ruin another person until they couldn't return from the damage he'd cause. A body littered with scars, a torso that was mostly dead skin and metal because of his inability to take care of himself properly- that was not a work of art. It was a failure of a piece, paint thrown onto a canvas with no real purpose and then sent to the flames where they finished it off. Perhaps a walking piece of art that the fire had created that day, the last *Thing* Standing who was injured by it so horrifically, unable to be entirely consumed by it physically. It'd done enough mentally, swallowing him whole, soul unable to rest until his hatred dissipated and the flames went out.

"If sssssso, you're the pa-a-a-a-aint brush." He'd bite down his genuine feelings on the matter, mutter something oh-so-sweet for the first time in a while, and let the feelings between the two continue to rise. Free hand now finding its way to Keigo's scarred back, his nails gently raked down them before going back up, fingertips running along the scars between his shoulder blades. The scars of a fallen angel, wings ripped from the flesh and left nothing but forever traumatized skin in their place. It was cruelly soothing in a way, knowing that he wasn't the only one with scars to hide, even if Toya's were much worse visually and physically.

A deep breath in. "I th—ink I'd rather burn again then live without you." A deep breath out. The confession was something Toya already knew, felt that Keigo already knew, yet he found himself admitting it aloud. In a cruel world such as this, being alone was a treacherous move and no matter how many times he'd made attempts at pushing the blond away– and would continue to make– he knew he couldn't survive alone. Not without Keigo.
Gary
I'm not the biggest fan of it, but.

Actually i really don't fucking like it, but.
Scotty
Oh my god Ex pookie so proud of you

We slayed this gay shit