Peaches 'N Cream

15. Doll

Jericho walked up to him and the raven-haired man continued to stare him down in silence. He cocked his head, frown deepening as he gazed over the marks on his neck.

Jericho should've just stayed inside the school and left with Joey through a different exit. Sneaking out would have been significantly better than the psychological degradation he was receiving.

The brown-haired boy couldn't describe what he felt when he was around Ezekiel as anything except for shame or fear; it felt like he was swimming in concrete.

"Ezekiel—"

He cut him off while unlocking the door.

"Get in."

He didn't want to go, the tears beginning to well up in his eyes made the situation worse. Zeke came back and that unfamiliar stinging sensation turned into a common occurrence.

"Just listen to m—"

"Jericho, now."

It wasn't fair because Jericho already had to be even more careful about everything he said or did now around this short tempered asshole. Joseph already knew about the guy somehow, who knows what he'd do if he saw him with fresh bruises?

Jericho put his bag in first and got in the passenger seat, the other man got in right after he did to start the car. The engine's soft purr managed to fill the tense silence. But, the knuckles on Ezekiel's hand were stark white because of the grip he had on the steering wheel.

His jaw was set, the winding muscles in his face like cables underneath his skin, and eventually, they reached a traffic light. Jericho attempted to ask where they were going. But, there was no response aside from him turning up the music. He didn't deserve this shit.

So, the brown-haired boy kept his mouth shut until he parked the sports-car outside of a small tattoo shop 15 minutes later. His eyes narrowed as Ezekiel got out of the car; he stayed seated with the seatbelt still firmly strapped over his body. Jericho wasn't moving until the other man told him what the hell they were about to go and do.

Zeke leaned down to the passenger side window, "you going to get out?" This was by no means a joke, but Jericho, being the stubborn son of a bitch that he was, met his eyes with a blank look, gold diving into copper.

"Tell me why we're here, and I will."

He sighed softly and ran a hand down his face.

"You're getting a daith piercing. It's supposed to help with migraines."

The brown-haired boy unbuckled the seatbelt and stepped out of the car, mumbling "How hard was that." Closing the door and catching up with Ezekiel.

He grabbed the back of his neck and held him still, "Fix your face before they think I did this shit and call the cops; he did a number on you."

He considered making a scene but he also didn't want to deal with the police, it wouldn't end well. The raven-haired man opened the door to the shop for him, and they walked into the building. The walls were different shades of black, and hundreds of posters with tattoo designs and photos of other customers with piercings littered the walls.

They passed a small seating area and walked straight to the back after the woman at the counter nodded at Ezekiel. Said person was currently piercing someone else's ears, they lingered near the black curtains waiting for him to finish. After about five minutes, the guy's hands were washed, and he was walking over with a charming smile.

All he had piercing-wise was a vertical one on his eyebrow and a nose ring, but as far as tattoos go, there wasn't a patch of his ivory skin left free of ink aside from his face.