babe, I'm gonna ruin you if you let me stay || private

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    [align=center][fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 300px; text-align: justify; font-size: 12px; margin-top: -19px]Tit tat, tit tat.


    The gentle sound of rain bouncing from rough sidewalk echoed throughout the nearly empty streets, a constant, soothing, rhythmic sound in which caused great tranquility to all those heard it; even if mighty thunder cracked in the background, it simply provided another melody in nature's symphony. It was a dreary day for that of one dedicated to the love and burning passion, but the fact of the said day's date, February 14th, was the most major of the many reasons in which the boy strode down main street umbrellaless and soaking wet.


    He didn't belong there.


    He couldn't stand it anymore, living in that damn house. He didn't belong in it. He was a final jagged shard from a family shattered into millions upon millions of tiny pieces due to the trimester of the event known as his mother's death. Jace had moved on swiftly, finding himself a girlfriend and having children with her; and since those said children's births, he had noticed it. Bohemian was a leftover. A leftover from a failed relationship. Freya scarce interacted with him and his father was far too caught up with her and his new family that young Bohemian had very well been left to his own devices. He had even once shouted out, in some form of attempt in gaining attention, he was off to buy cigarettes and get drunk off jack daniel's, only to be replied to with the a warning of not going near the children with ether of said toxic items.


    Mostly because Freya didn't particularly care for a problematic mental mess with drug issues and then his father could barely look at him anymore. It wasn't from hate in which sparked this, but rather regret. Bohemian had seen the pictures, though they were far and few inbetween, he knew that he was a practical spitting image of Toni Darling. Beautiful. That is the first thought in which slips into the mind of all whom gaze upon him. For he indeed mimics his lovely mother, having been thought of as being more attractive than most woman. With lovely features that could stir jealousy among angels and a petite frame, many compare Bohemian appeared to the be that of a porcelain doll- delicate and androgynous.


    He even held her ivory hair, and his right eye of oceans depths, though specks of stardust had flecked it, had belonged to her. The sole feature in which Bohemian had inherited from Jace at all was that of his left eye of molten amber; and that killed his father inside. It was understandable wasn't it? Not being capable of looking your dead lover in the eye. Ether or, he had to get out of their; whether it was waiting for his next birthday to become emancipated or simply running off he wasn't sure yet.


    The rain had stopped it's gentle hum, beginning to become more of a ferocious roar, pelting the already rain-kissed teenager viciously to the point he could barely see. He would have no choice but to seek shelter. After a short time, the youth came across that of an abandoned building; one that had been a church in the 1800s but since then had been buried in time, no one would be there for sure and it would be his best shelter for the time being. A thought passed in through his mind, would he burn? He was not the most holy of people. But it was only a thought, so the delicate boy slipped in carefully through busted windows, managing to cut himself slightly as crimson trickled down one arm, but not badly enough to be serious.


    As he strode about in what he though long abandoned, a sound caused the boy to snap around, clever smile converging upon elegant features. "Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows." He hummed aloud, tone as soft as summer rain. The other was still in the shadows, and so he could scarce reconigze his facial features, no matter how much he squinted mis colored hues. Bohemian pulled a spare cigarette from his back pocket; the package had done little to protect the cancer stick but he had nothing to lose by attempting to light it. "Wouldn't happen to have a lighter by any chance, would you?"

    [hr]
    [justify]"You shouldn't be here."


    He finally came out after Bohemian spoke, revealing a nasty looking face. It was just plain dried out and covered in bumps, and he had a rigid expression. He had no eyes, which may be a surprise to someone. His steps were slow as he strode forward. He wore a somewhat matted and dirty suit, once nice but now perhaps ruined. He didn't come out of this very much, but the kid's voice seemed somewhat familiar. Although, maybe that was his mind playing tricks on him. He thought a lot of people seemed familiar. And usually, they were just hallucinations, or some sort of spoiled brat.


    But he could tell this was a teenager from the voice. This one sounded intrepid. At his question, he tilted his head, gently thinning his lips. That was something one might say for cigarettes, commonly. Or maybe it was just a genuine question, searching for a source of light. It was likely a latter of the first assumption, as he doubted he'd want a lighter for light. He could hear the rapid rush of rain, and he thought for a moment. It was hard to know if he actually belonged here himself, but nonetheless, he spoke. "But, I can make an exception. It's pretty cold outside." He added hospitably. If there was one bad place to stay, it's in a dirty old abandoned house. Creeps stayed there.


    He couldn't, unfortunately, see this teenager's interesting eyes and examine him. Horrorstory was just a pale brute with thick jaw muscles and bones, and a general gruff look. He wasn't exactly a teenager, but he wasn't all too elderly. Horrorstory was interested in whoever this was, especially at the first sentence he spoke when he had been hidden. He clasped his dry hands, watching the general direction Bohemian had spoke, and following any steps, using hearing to guide him. Without eyes, his ears had become more aware.


    "I have a lighter; but, for what intent do you use it for?" Horrorstory asked. He wouldn't just give a stranger such an item. The house could be caught in flames, brought into ashes. He didn't want to be charged with such a thing. Rain was a powerful force, but fire could overcome the liquid of fierceness at times. Clasped dry hands moving to his back, he stood there in his ragged suit, form still for a moment, before he very slightly lifted his heel up, and he took a single step closer.


    His slightly tilted head adjusted into a straight and perhaps prideful stance, and his back was straight as he seemed relaxed and harmless. Horrorstory thought of other things to question Bohemian. "And, more importantly... What is your name? I may know you." He urged, mind lost. It was always a disadvantage, having nothing but a solitary-like mind, only trapped in darkness. He could recognize people only through voice, and sometimes, that wasn't enough to know about who was present. It was hard to remember so many voices.


    He could only imagine who this teenager was, and what mischief he had prepared. He had no intents to hurt him. If he did, he would've already grabbed him by the hand, or remained in the shadows till he had a good point on where he may be. Honestly, he could've remained in the lonesome dark, but there was no point in hiding if someone knew you were there. He didn't feel like going through the typical suspense of bad intents, where he'd end up dashing to find safety elsewhere. [/justify]

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    You shouldn't be here. The words were not of an unfamiliar ring to the youth's ears, he'd heard it a many times given his wild nature and the fact he was born reckless; finding his way into trouble was as easy as a lazy Sunday morning. Luckily, his knack for getting into mischief was only rivaled for his ability to get out of the severe consequences. And so the phrase muttered was not one to throw the youth of his guard, no it was rather the being who spoke it himself. As this man stepped from the shadows, revealing a grotesque, damaged, horrid excuse for had once been a face Bohemian found himself nearly jumping backwards; dazzling hues a wide with wonder and curiosity more so than fear.


    He'd always been that way, his sense of wonder far outweighed the human emotion of fear, and so when most ran rapid away in terror; he questioned and observed. Though Bohemian had to admit that the man appeared to be something straight from a horror film. "Do any of us have the right to be here?" Bohemian noted with great deal more nonchalance than one would expect when facing such a situation. The words, fine gold string spinning from thin lips, were of a philosopher; something in which got the mind's wheels turning, they were captivating and strange. Perhaps in the end was just attempting to be a smart ass kid with a lost point and nothing to say.


    "To enhance my risk of cancer," The youth's smooth tone became laced with amusement as the other odd being inquired his reason for a lighter cautiously. As Horrorstory inched closer, Bohemian caught an even more detailed view of his face- it was sunken and torn, bone structure completely pronounced and showing and he held empty sockets, oblivion where eyes should have been located. So he couldn't see him; which meant no judgement would be gathered from his rather unusual appearance. "You sure ask lots of questions," The beauty noted to the beast, smooth tone laced with amusement at the others cynical-ism. "Bohemian Darling, a pleasure to make your acquaintance. So tell me, what's a handsome brute such as yourself doing in this broke down place?"

    [hr]
    [justify]Horrorstory quietly processed his first words. He went hushed at the thought of what he was doing here, hands clamped together as bitter cold chilled them to the marrow, per usual. This was an alien as far as he was concerned, a foreign teenager. He was used to those, quite honestly. But perhaps this one could strike his fancy as a good child. Many could lunge or rush away in terror, thinking he was blight or a lunatic. Rarely anyone came here in general though, so perhaps that was just unlucky encounters. He wasn't a work of art, painted to be sweet and more soothing then honey. He was rather one ruined, roughly sketched and sharp upon the edges. But he wasn't all so bad if he took a liking to you, usually.


    So, he was one of those kids. Maybe rebellious, or perhaps just unsettled in his mind, disturbed by the world around him. He thought for a moment, reminiscing slightly. Cancer. "Real funny, kiddo." That was all he replied, holding a lighter up and then offering it. If he caught the place in flames, Horrorstory shouldn't be charged with the murder. Hey, justice was what this world stood for, right? Ruffling ragged ginger hair, he beiefly raised his left shoulder in a shrug. A lot of questions. He did what he had to, make sure he wasn't assisting a lunatic or psychopath. But maybe that was paranoia sinking in his systems.


    A handsome brute, huh? What a captivating and quite pecuilar description. This was an interesting teenager, to say the least. Better then the cliches. But maybe he was thinking so since he was rather demure these days. "Bohemian." He repeated, the words rolling around his jawa before he had released it. "I'm Horrorstory." Maybe it was a strange name, but he had never changed it. Name-changes were tiring and dull. It was a colorful name, and he'd rather not be the everyday 'Steve' or 'Bob.' Bohemian in itself was a pretty unique name, he must admit. "I hide here." He replied, as if it was a casual statement.[/justify]

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    //omg so sorry for late reply! life has been getting in the way and caused a bit of inactivity for me. :'(


    Rebellious, alienated, disturbed by the world in which surrounded him; all of these were quite wonderful and observant deductions of the boy who seemed more delicate than a dolly and as clever as a snake's glinting yellow eyes. But he, underneath the grand charades and flowery words, was nothing more than a hot mess disguised by oh-so-pretty wrapping. That's all he was, and that's all he'd ever be; if he even lived to be older than 21.


    The fact of this ever-interesting man's amusement by Bohemian's words made a small feeling of victory arise in the youth's chest, making surly figures with stoic tones and tough attitudes was quite the specialty of his, and also something in which he took great pride in his ability to do. Bohemian lifted his cigarette to the flame offered, hungry as it fed off the oxygen around it, flickering and bright, it soon lit the cancer stick as he placed the object into his mouth; smoke erupted from thin lips before placing the cigarette inbetween his fingers, a smile flickering across lovely features. "I try." He responded simply to the others words.


    Horrorstory. This caused the youth's lips to tighten into a whistle, "Quite the name you have their yourself." He replied as the other mouthed over Bohemian's own namesake with great caution. He rather preferred unique names, after all, names held great power and importance; what was the point if almost everyone in one county had the same name? It'd be boring and grey. So he was hiding? "I have half a mind to state that hiding from your problems are quite problematic in their own," Bohemian began, slightly tipping his head to the side before a sigh escaped his lips. "But that make me quite the hypocrite, would it not?" He could be quite the coward sometimes, he could be quite selfish sometimes; Bohemian often found that his virtues were rather outweighed by his vices. "Though, I am rather curious; what are you hiding from?" There was no, if I may, or is that alright. The boy was unapologetic, curious, and nosy; he had been all his life.

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    [justify]//It's fine! I understand <3


    He quite wondered what happened. He hadn't been about when children were obedient, respectful, and polite. But there had been a day, and yet now the world was polluted with deranged or demented creatures, only out to feel the blood licking at the palms and the screams of everyone. And there were also the others who were just plain rebellious and certainly tedious, pranksters at the worse. There was rarely any special type of person these days. Horrorstory himself may be the typical dull and emotionless type, unfeeling and just all out the one to supress anger with great ease. But hopefully he wasn't in any sort of categories. But at this point, personality didn't matter. Survival to its fullest was most important.


    His nose scrunched in obvious disdain for the cigarette as it lifted into the air, malodorous and putrid scentmaking it's cancer rushed through his nose. "Funny. But a serious topic. If you wish to die slowly though, be my guest." Horrorstory responded flatly. It was hard to tell if he truly thought him funny or not, but one thing was for certain. He followed the movements of the stick burning up, smell keen to watch on Bohemian's motives. Or perhaps he was more focused on the cancer neatly wrapped in a package then the teenager himself. Perplexed by memories, he shoved them down in the pits of his stomach with dull thoughts instead. He diverted his face to where he heard the sound of the teenager's whistle, flicking his pinkie past the ring finger which held a ring on it anxiously.


    He decided to only reply with his best attempt at a laugh; a mere huff, to his first words. "I suppose so." He huffed, flat voice going back to it's full gruffness. As his intents here were once more pried at, he prudently considered the question. Whether he should answer or not. He didn't mind his lack of manners, used to the sort of actions. "No reason to tell a stranger." Horrorstory would murmur, feeling distrusting of Bohemian. The brute human couldn't trust anybody these days, he wasn't gullible enough to tell information to someone he never met until this rainy day.[/justify]