A Rather Destructive Fixation [Frerard]

4

A/N: I'm really sad wow

July 10th -- 12:45pm

I walked around the corner of the bakeshop with a cigarette in my mouth. I was on my way to the parking lot which had the pole that Scorpio and I had claimed as ours.

I walked into the empty lot and my eyes were drawn to the boy in the black sweater, leaning against our pole with a cigarette in hand. I smiled. 

I walked towards him, and soon he heard me approaching and looked up. He smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. 

"Hey Gerard." He said, taking a drag of his cigarette. I nodded at him.
"You wanna tell me your name yet?" I asked. He tilted his head, pretending to contemplate it.

"Nope."

"Okay, cool." I mumbled. He ran his hand through his hair and sighed.

"What do you want to do?" He asked. I shrugged. What did I want to do? I honestly didn't know. I don't do much besides smoke, do drugs, and hate myself.

"Want to get food?" He asked.

"No money." I sighed. All the money I have, I either steal it or do odd jobs for neighbours. I then spend it on drugs or pay older people to buy cigarettes for me.

"That's alright, hey. Let's go to my house and make food." He suggested. I frowned.
"What kind of food?" 
"Well, I don't know. Lets go find something." He said. He went to grab my arm but stopped himself. He glanced warily at me. "Can I touch you?" 

I stared at his hand that was just a few inches away from my wrist. I glanced at his face. He seemed kind, harmless. But that's what I thought about the last one, too. I shook my head.

"Alright, cool." The boy said, seemingly completely understanding. "So, my house?"

***

We walked to his house; the entire way was spent with me panicking about his parents being there and him assuring me they wouldn't. I didn't do well with other people's parents. They never liked me. Probably because of the fact that I have the reputation of a highschool drop-out, drug-addict, piece-of-shit teenager.

We arrived at his house and to my luck: His parents weren't there. We went to his kitchen, and sat at the counter. 

"What do you want to make?" He said. I shrugged. He pulled out a cookbook from the shelf above the counter and over-dramatically blew on the cover, wiping off imaginary dust.

"We could make... Muffins?" He said. I laughed shortly. 

"Muffins?" I asked.
"Sure, we could add a bunch of shit and make them rad." He said. I smiled- genuinely.
"Let's do it."

Scorpio got all the ingredients together while I sat and watched. He got all the bowls and muffin-trays all by himself, while I stared with intrigued eyes.

I wanted to memorize the way he moved. He moved with grace and awkwardness, as if the two could coexist together. Every time he grabbed something, he would glance at me and give me the smallest smile. I wanted to memorize him.

"Okay, come crack two eggs into this bowl." He said, finally making me do something. I walked over to the oven, where he had placed a plastic bowl and a carton of eggs for me to crack. I pursed my lips. I'd never cracked eggs before. I stared at the eggs with anxiety.

I suppose Scorpio realized something was wrong when I was just staring at the eggs like a freak. He walked over to me and stood close; but not close enough to actually be touching me. I appreciated that.