dead is just a word.

The softest, kindest smile that says   Yes, you,   for her. It reaches all the way up to her eyes that still watch him, only turning away to glance out at the school when she remembers all of her belongings are still back in her classroom. Serena only turns back towards the man once his voice reaches her, attentive and clear. It wasn't exactly the self deprecation that catches her off guard as much as it is the honesty of it in his tone.

       ❝ ..   Why wouldn't I want to? ❞  An equal surprise to her as it seemed to be to him. Total, innocent honesty. There's the faint voice of her father in the back of her head, remembering how he'd chide her for being   too friendly   or   too trusting.   She swears she can hear him trying to tell her to be careful even now...       You don't know this cat, Reenie...       Whatever warning about  claws she can't see  is forgone once the man continues again.

It's not that she's disappointed about what he tells her first. Serena's wilt of expression    ( complete with a soft pout and everything;  eyes lowering to the space between them )   comes more from the second   ( third? )   instance of self deprecation. She wonders if that was why the   bells   had been so loud earlier...   The thought passes the same way he breezes through the statement onto the next. Like a flower that's found the sun, she's perked up again   ( eyes lifted, lips slightly parted )   with renewed hopefulness.

Serena didn't need him to have any news at all. She knew she could find things out herself in her own ways   ( she always has ).   But wasn't it so  exciting  to not be alone about it now?

       ❝ I'm glad! ❞   Beaming like spring daylight, dimpled smile and all. There's a somewhat awkward shuffle about her feet, vague motions with her arms as she tries to temper that brightness a little.   ❝ I'll -   I just need to get my things from my room... ❞   A quick glance back and forth. Her smile doesn't leave.   ❝ Want me to drive us?   - Or,  or we could walk. ❞   In case he wasn't okay getting into a car with a stranger, of course. She's speaking a little quicker now, almost ahead of herself. A few different layers of excitement has her tangling herself up. Then, like a completely sudden thought despite it's smooth, almost relieved deliverance.

       ❝ Gosh, you really..   - You didn't think I was crazy?   - Asking that?... ❞

"I don't think you're crazy at all," he murmurs, blue eyes glancing at Serena through his lashes. The light flush to her cheeks makes his throat dry. "I just think you're good.

"And I'll get in a car with you, Serena. Yes."

As if he deserves it.

"I'll wait here." Albert's hands shove into his pockets, soft smile curving his lips. This feels wrong, too, like a reptile playing at warmth, but Serena hasn't done anything wrong. "Take your time."

And true enough, once she's gone, Albert does little more than watch her go. He follows every step she takes and every bounce of her hair with his eyes, like he's afraid she's going to fade out of existence. There's no way she's real. There's no fucking way.

But she does come back, and because of that Albert knows for sure he isn't hallucinating. He almost reaches out to touch her, but with his nails digging into the inner lining of his pockets, he holds himself back. It wouldn't be appropriate-- so he settles for an unflinching stare instead.

*- Normally, Finn was a stickler for the rules. Last call was holy, and he always left the heavy door of Spunky’s Tavern unlocked until 1:55 a.m., even if the place was dead. *- But watching snow swirl in fairytale drifts behind the anchor on the bar’s grainy television, and the word BLIZZARD crawl across the bottom of the screen in bold serif font, he had to admit to himself that nobody was coming.

*- It was only 12:30 when he flipped the neon OPEN sign to dark and began the short, familiar ritual of closing up. He left the television on as he wiped the bar and stacked chairs, grateful for the low murmur of voices to interrupt his scattered thoughts. The news looped endlessly--no end to the broadcast day, no pause in the march of progress.

*- Outside, it was three below. Inside, Spunky’s smelled like beer and bacon and Murphy’s Oil. It was a good place. A happy place. He loved it here, maybe more than he should. Closing up always felt like a betrayal, like he was leaving home behind--even though his apartment was only a few blocks away.

The kid was none the wiser, it seemed. Albert lived in the reflection of the bar's glass window, in the shadows of the dimly lit room, in that space between the beam of a streetlight and the night, and Finney proceeded as if nothing was wrong at all. The loathing that festered in Albert's heart only twisted further into mania. As soon as they were close enough-- in the same town, wouldn't you believe it, and Albert had only been half-invested in truly hunting him down-- Finney's presence became an ever-present nail in his head. The voices never shut their fucking mouths about him and his evil, about the catastrophe Albert failed to kill at the root. And yet Finney dreamed his mundane dreams like he hadn't done anything wrong. Like he didn't feel this maddening connection between them, cemented since he picked that fucking phone up against Albert's instruction.

There was no way Finney had forgotten him. Albert simply wouldn't have it.

So as the boy walked, light and pure in a way only dreams could make him, Albert followed. Only a few feet away, his own boots pressed into every footprint Finney made, leaving bigger prints and blood spatter in their wake.

Don't you feel me? With his hands in the pockets of his jacket, Albert's eyes were cold over the edge of his smooth-faced mask: no smile, no frown, no expectations. Doesn't it drive you fucking insane knowing I'm alive?

The details of the roads they took burned in his mind. Albert memorised every sign, every turn, and every landmark. Watching Finney walk, it occurred to him the boy had become so big now that he was a man... and, in his adulthood, lost every shot he had at dying a pure death.

The building they eventually stopped at was nondescript. Frankly, if not for Finney's living there, it would only compute as another shitheap in a town full of them. As Finney reached for the knob, Albert caught up to him, practically looming behind the boy as he pressed his palm flat to the door to keep it closed.

His voice, already muffled by the mask, was low and rumbling: "Who the fuck do you think you're fooling, Finney?

He crouched down beside one of the lower racks, fingers gliding over record spines until he pulled out a worn blue sleeve. “Here,” he said, holding it up. “Lightnin’ Hopkins — ‘Lonesome Road.’ It’s a blues track about two people who care for each other but know they’d burn down everything around them if they stayed together.” Emil placed the record on the turntable, the soft crackle preceding the somber guitar. As the melody filled the room, he leaned against the counter.

“There’s something honest about songs like this—two souls that fit, but can’t afford to be near each other. Feels a little too human, doesn’t it?”

When the record played on, Emil chuckled under his breath. “Most people expect me to be more of a rock guy,” he said, tapping his chest lightly. “Guess I like surprises.” His grey eyes flicked toward Albert then, curiosity edging in. “Though I’ve gotta say—you’re the first customer I’ve seen wearing a black mask inside. Trying to keep mysterious, or just hiding from someone?” he joked.

He thinks he's so fucking grown up. Albert took the offered hand in his and noticed immediately just how small it is, and how soft Emil's flesh was compared to the work-earned calluses on his own.

"Albert," he offered, eyes calm like warning bells aren't ringing in his head. Lightnin' Hopkins' voice was raw amidst the twang of his guitar, Emil's eyes were glittering, and Albert's chest hurt with the knowledge that a boy that shone this bright needed to be broken.

"Pleasure to meet you, Emil."

God.

"You got good taste," he said when the song ended, gaze drifting to the player. Anything to keep from being blinded by Emil's light. "I don't know that I'd assume you liked anything except what you said you did. How can you guess what someone might enjoy, hm?

her aunt && uncle had gone out for the day , not expecting the weather to be this erratic . she herself was still not used to the shifting of it all , how it could go from being sunny to rainy in a matter of moments with little to no signs such would happen . they assured they would arrive back before dark , giving her each a kiss on the top of the head as they told her they loved her ; not something she was used to , nothing like where she was before . she had thought it could have been them when she first heard someone at the door , though why would they knock ?

she barely even blinked when she allowed him inside , just gave herself enough time to register who it was . she is not sure what she should even say at first , her actions very much speaking louder than her words at the moment . she again locks the door when he is inside , just in case . she will have to mop up the water afterwards , of course , thought right now , all she is worried about is getting him sitting down to warm up .

she brings him through the kitchen , pulling out a chair for him to sit in . the heat is already on , so the house is very pleasantly cozy at this point , very nice to come back to on a rainy day like this . she leaves his side a moment , bring him over a towel so he can dry himself off , then lays one on the floor to begin mopping up the water that had dripped from him .

It's mesmerising, almost, watching the girl clean after him. Sitting on the chair, he cares little for the chill that forms an incessant wall on his skin. The piddly heater's sad attempts to warm him up mean nothing in the wake of watching Valerie work for his comfort; even as his hands go through the motions of drying his hair with the towel, his eyes never leave the sight of Valerie on the floor.

What a kind girl. A good girl. They were always so pure, weren't they? Not nearly as susceptible to evil as boys were, that's for sure.

At the sound of Valerie's stammering, he smiles gently, like one would at a stray. Boys weren't nearly as adorable, either.

"Okay," Albert says. The gratitude for her honesty is implied. "But I didn't come here to see them.

"You're always so nice to me, Valerie." Pulling the blanket from around himself, Albert draws the offered towel down over his shoulders. "I had a feeling you'd let me in even before I knocked on the door."

Then he replaces the blanket over that, creating a proper barrier between his soaked shirt and the girl's eyes. The water made his shirt cling to his muscles, and there was no need to look so inappropriate in front of such a young lady.

Despite the serenity, though, when Albert brings up the kills, he ducks his head slightly.

"You were going to hurt Gwen," Finney breathes, knowing that, in the end, it's why he had truly started to act out. He'd accidentally given enough clues to Gwen that she had figured out the general place where he was.

"I couldn't let you hurt her."

With the joint held safely between two fingers, he lowers his hand to cover where the Grabber's hand held his hip.

Slowly, the pressure in Finney's skin worsens, digging deeper and deeper and dimpling his flesh. There's an insistent bite now, and a drag of blunt nails that leaves deep pink lines in its wake. Four lines, evenly spaced, spread from Finney's waist to his hip.

"God forbid you lose anything that matters to you, huh?"

It's cold around Finney's throat now, frigid in the shape of a grown man's palm. Two points of pressure find the corners of his jaw, holding him in place as they lift his head. Like this, Finney is forced to watch the messy swirl of leaves in front of him, and the blink-and-you'll-miss-it glimpses of a masked figure watching on the other side.

"I thought you cared about me, Finney. But I should've known you were lying all along. That you were scheming with your fucking sister to leave.

Though, before he can even respond, Al's moving his hips again. Finney bites roughly on his lower lip as Al pulls out almost completely, whimpering and squirming in a silent attempt to get him back inside of him. Though, Al's never so cruel as to keep him waiting very long. As thrusts all of the way in again, the air is knocked out of his lungs, hips bucking and head thrown back as he feels whole once more.

"Uh, huh," he whines out as he forces himself to open his eyes "Wanna be yours."

Turning his face to press his forehead against Al's, Finney's eyes shine as he looks into the beautiful, blue ones looking back at him.

Finney's not stupid- he knows the way they met was frightening and it should've never happened, but he also can't help but be grateful for it happening. Al's in his life because of it, and he'd never regret how it happened.

He leans in and kisses the elder with every ounce of love and adoration his young body could muster into such an affectionate action before breathing against his lips,"'m all yours, Al. Forever and always.

Finney kisses him and Albert doesn't hesitate to slide his tongue into his mouth. Greedy, he wants Finney here too, and a laugh crawls up his throat as his thrusts pick up in speed. Slap after desperate slap, Albert works Finney's pussy open, relishing the debauchery of their combined mess spilling out the seams where they're connected. A harder thrust has the tip of his dick knocking against the final piece of resistance deep in Finney's cunt once more, and even when Finney pulls away to breathe, all Albert does is press hungry kisses along the side of his face, his jaw, and his throat.

"Oh, Finney," he sighs, thrusts shallow with his cock buried in deep and nudging so teasingly against his womb, "I love you, too."

Hips circling, Albert's cock carves a space for itself in Finney's body. The hands on his legs slide inward and bracket his boy's slender waist in two big hands, keeping him trapped-- Albert's to fuck, to use, to claim. It took them so long to get here, so long to get Finney to love him (and a little longer for Albert himself to win against the demons in his head). How could he be anything but obsessed?

"God..." Albert moans, fresh from leaving a mark in the milk of Finney's pretty throat. He fucks his boy into the floor, squeezes his waist, and lifts him so he can thrust aggressively into Finney's wet pussy.

"You'd be such a good little wife, hm? Take care of me so good already." He shudders, hopeless with the thought, and presses into Finney's cervix all over again. "I should knock you up, Finney. Really make you mine.

He knows the Grabber is scolding him, and normally, he'd make some sort of snarky retort. Finn would absolutely make some sort of comment about he's only as naughty as the Grabber had made him or simply just scoff in his face.

Though, the only thing that falls off of his tongue is a barely audible, "You're actually here?"

The whisper of a grin kisses the edge of the boy's ear. The touch that caresses Finney's hip is cold even through the fabric of his clothes-- frigid ice seeping into cotton, tender all the same.

"And it's all thanks to you..."

The wind around Finney picks up, swirling leaves across the yard and rustling the branches of a tree. Five points of pressure dig into his flesh and dimple the skin, hard enough to feel the bite of nails.

Closed Starter for @grabracadabra

When his gaze landed on the single boy in the store, the hairs on the back of his neck rose. His lips pressed together beneath the black facemask that obscured him, and he was so stunned in the moment he almost missed the sound of the kid speaking.

Oh, he thought bitterly, but he sounds so kind.

It was a shame kindness didn't mean shit in the face of evil, and it was worst in young boys with one foot on the side of the devil.

Despite the kid's charms, and despite the well-meaning laugh Albert let out, his eyes were sharp behind his sunglasses.

"Gosh," he started, shaking his head in half-disbelief, "what on Earth's come out that you need courage to listen to it?"

He had walked in with intention at first, curious about the Stones' new record after receiving a coked up call from his brother about its "absolute importance, Al, you better have fucking heard it by the time I come visit!". But Max's excitement took a swift backseat in the presence of someone who would no doubt grow up to be a Naughty Boy-- the voices, after all, never lied.

If she hadn't known any better, she'd have thought he was a wounded kind of puppy. For a long while, Serena simply...   watches him, listens as he unties his words for her. Such an innocent expression was so full of piercing observation. Like pinning a butterfly, still twitching. That's what his nervous fidgeting reminded her of anyhow. The light, fluttering movements of wings. She swallows against a lump she hadn't even realized built up in her throat. What would pulling out the pins look like?

The word   weird   is what seems to snap her back into place, lashes batting in the same moment before her expression melts entirely into a reassuring sympathy.

       ❝ I don't see how it could be weird at all, ❞   Serena rushes to answer. A part of  her  even rushes forward   ( without any speed of course;   it's just a step, albeit an urgent feeling one ),   as though moving a little closer could've emphasized what she meant. What she felt.  The Shine seems to surge with her in a way she hasn't experienced before. Like being surrounded by bells -   Like being the ringing bell itself.   How strange...   Even when she's met students with a Shine to them, this feeling was entirely new.

In comes that ever observant nature. All Serena has to do is turn the other way, looking where he had, before a few more pieces come together. Again, she  hates  to assume, but...

       ❝ Can you see it in them, too? ❞   Less like she was asking and more as though she were making sure. Serena spotlights him again with doe eyes, raised brows, and an all too gentle expression that understands more than most would.   ❝ Is that why you were worried? ❞

She wouldn't have blamed him. For most of the school year now, she's watched the twins, and only recently has she had to pay attention to the O'Connel kid. Only Luke's had felt...   off.   The twins still hadn't realized what was dormant inside of them.

The way this man curled into himself told her there was something she wasn't realizing, either.

All of her seems to shift very abruptly. Her posture straightens, her head turns to glance around a few times, her teeth worry over the plush of her bottom lip. A lightbulb flickers on.

       ❝ Would you like to get some coffee?   - ..   or,  something? ❞   Serena sounds terribly hopeful. It's such an innocent offer. Maybe he wouldn't feel so nervous if they were in some place quieter...   Maybe they could talk more if he  let  her. It wasn't every day, after all, she got to meet someone that could see what she could...   and if there was something about her students he could Shine that she couldn't, Serena felt  desperate  to know.

His throat feels tight, but he doesn't deny the question's implications. He knows what she's talking about-- it's the stuff that Daddy hates about him, the stuff that made him deserve all the lashings, and beatings, and being locked in the basement with his cheek to a dirty mattress-- but the thought of acknowledging it with anyone else sears him with alarm.

If he said so aloud, would she hurt him, too?

(God knows he deserves it.)

He realises, perhaps too late, that he'd taken too long to answer her. But before he can apologise again the offer for coffee stuns him instead.

"Me?"

There isn't a lick of confidence in his voice, and Albert feels himself cringe because of it. He turns his head away slightly, brows furrowed because it doesn't make sense for this woman to be nice to him, and then shoves his hands into his pockets before she sees him clench his fists too tight.

"Why would you-- do you want to talk to me?"

I have nothing good to say. I have nothing good. Nothing good.

"Oh... I don't have any good news." It feels a worthy enough warning. "Not about those boys, and certainly not about me.

"If you still want to get coffee, though, then..." He's been lonely for so long it almost feels wrong, agreeing to something like this. "I wouldn't say no."

the knock on the door is what brought her out of her staring out the window , a blanket wrapped around her as she observes the various patterns && paths the raindrops made as they travel down the length of the pane . it was really coming down , more than a mere downpour , the streets no doubt going to be flooded in minutes .

her relatives had taught her to lock the door , that it was very important to do when they left her here alone . she made sure several times to follow their wishes , though the threat did not bother her ; she was not sure someone would simply come in , she was not brought up with that fear . instead , her fears were laying low so she was not seen from anyone outside , told to keep herself hidden && out of sight .