Wonderland [zustin]

friends?

didn't it all seem new and exciting?
I felt your arms twisting around me
I should have slept with one eye open at night

~

"Hey uh, if you don't mind me asking-"

"Quit the formalities, jeez. Weren't you just calling me an asshole?"

Justin pokes his tongue in the inner side of his cheek. Calm, keep calm. He's just trying to tick you off, that's all.

"I'm starving." His monotonous voice did not affect the green eyed man. 

"Oh, yeah. I forgot you humans needed to shove something down your throat to stay alive." Mad then steps closer to Justin. "Give me my coat."

This makes Justin feel a bit weird. "But you were the one one who gave it to me-?"

Mad sighs. "There's absolutely no point in arguing with you." He starts checking around in the many pockets he had in the coat. A lot of them were not visible, like they were sewn shut.

"Hey! What are you doing? You are violatin-"

"Shut the fuck up, pretty boy." Mad finally finds what he wanted, pulling out a glass bottle, shut tight with a cork. "Here," Mad opens up Justin's hand and places the delicate bottle on his palm. He felt the coolness of the many rings Mad wore, and maybe, he even liked some of them, especially the amethyst one.

Justin may or may not have liked it when Mad's long fingers brushed against his.

"What's this?" Justin asks. When he rolls the bottle on his hand, he sees an old, faded paper stuck to it with a flimsy tape. In a crooked handwriting, and what seemed to be black ink, someone had written two simple words;

drink me

"Go on," Mad encourages. "Drink it."

The liquid inside it was a pale pink color, shining like it emitted its own light. It couldn't possibly be the light reflecting off the sun, since it was twenty four by seven gloomy in here. Justin wondered if they even had a sun.

"Why?" It could be poison. Maybe Mad wanted him dead.

"It'll help you,"

Justin unscrews the cork with loud pop. A strong smell filled his nostrils. It smelt of flowers and honey and all things pleasant. It reminded him of his mother, who almost had the same smell. When Justin was younger, he loved nuzzling his head into her neck just to catch a whiff of that amazing motherly scent.

He suddenly remembered that one day.

"You always smell so good, ma! Why can't I smell like you?" Little Justin asked, pouting.

His mother laughed. "That's because you have a scent of your own, Justin."

"Do I smell good?"

At this, she shook her head. "Not at the moment, because you just came back from the game, Justin."

Justin frowned and lifted his left arm and sniffed, then sticking out his tongue in disgust. "Eww."

"Eww is right. Off to the bathroom, you go."

"How can I be sure that this will help me and that your not actually trying to kill me?"