Fragile Hearts | Party Poison x Male Reader

17⋅Maybe

- -Ghoul's POV- -

I find it really fun to watch (k/n) – or Candy, like the other two call him – and his friends play around outside. Candy has looked so much happier since he reunited with Sour and War – he has been laughing and smiling more, with more energy than before. The melancholy that often lingered in his eyes and voice during certain situations now gives place to excitement and happiness; even his presence in general shows it.

Even now, sitting outside working on my next project, as Candy pins War to the ground with his arm pulled back, I feel amusement bubbling in me, seeing how Candy laughs at War trying to free himself while Sour laughs at them. It seems like they are always wrestling and playfully fighting with each other every other hour. Earlier, War provoked Sour to chase him around the diner by snapping a rubber band on his arm. It's funny to watch them, the way they click together. I wish it were me. Maybe Party does as well. I don't know. Where is he, anyways?

"Uncle, uncle!!" War cries out, both his arms now pulled behind his back, and squirms while Candy grins before he lets go, allowing War to jump up and tackle Candy to the ground. They proceed to yell, laugh, and swear at each other as they roll around in the sand in yet another wrestling match.

Soon, though, their mess is nothing more than background noise for my projects.

"Hey," someone greets and there's War, sitting next to me. His hair glues to his forehead with the sweat along with sand, which also sticks to his clothes, all from playing with Candy. "What'cha working on there?"

Fuck off. I don't want to talk. Not now. I'm working. Then, again, they're not Jet to know how to respect it. A sigh escapes my lips and I turn back to working on my thing, fidgeting with one of the devices. "Just some glitter bombs... harmless ones." I hope he will get the hint, at least. My fingers brush against a bottle of purplish-red glitter, some of it getting on my fingertips. The made-up garage long ago turned into my studio. Sometimes Jet's.

"Glitter bombs? What do they do, exactly?" He raises an eyebrow and leans closer.

Fuck. Is he actually interested? But is it good or bad? Hell, I don't want my job to fall into the wrong hands, but I also want it to be known. "Uh, when they explode, they release glitter of whatever color I put in. It's decorative and really pretty." I shrug, gazing at the many bottles and jars filled with various colors of glitter, some the classic kinds, others in different shapes. There are too many. "But I don't know what colors to use this time!"

War leans closer to observe the glitter. "Hmm, what about pink, light blue, and light purple glitter? Maybe you can mix them together to create a cool effect!" He grins.

My eyes lit up at the suggestion and I clap my hands in excitement. "Yes, yes! That's perfect!!" I giggle, grabbing the three colors. Good idea, indeed, but I still don't know if I should trust him.

..

..

"The bomb," I huff, "it's done. Maybe we can trade it at Chow Mein's, y'know?" And it's pretty much useless to try to explain it to Kobra right now. I mean, I don't exactly judge him because he's also curiously observing the Candy Crush fucking around the diner – he leans back against the counter as I sit on top of it –, but I'm fucking talking to him and all I've unfairly received is vague and distant answers. The Candy Crush aren't even that interesting. At least War and Sour, I mean. How can we trust them? What about (k/n)? What about Party? What about Party and (k/n)?

Kobra sighs and shrugs, running a hand through his hair to pull the messy strands back. "Sounds good, I guess, must fix us more than Power Pup this time." And the motherfucker has the audacity of rolling his eyes when glancing at me. "Y'know, you don't own (k/n). Candy. Whatever."