soaked in bleach

(I MOVED BLOGS! PLEASE FOLLOW ME OVER HERE IF YOU’RE STILL INTERESTED IN WRITING!)

Tate plopped down heavily next to Kai on his couch, uninvited into his basement, but he didn’t care. He stared at his older brother, eyebrows slightly raised; Expectant. But when there was no response right away, Tate loudly & obnoxiously cleared his throat.  “Well?”

“You bought this for me?”  Tate looked down at the single slice of yellow cake topped with chocolate icing; It was just one of those from a grocery store bakery, the $3.99 label still on top of it, but it was more than anyone else had ever done for him. Tate had mentioned his birthday coming up some time ago and - Dean must have made mental note of it. Went out of his way to come spend time with him, bring him a gift. Tate swallowed down the lump in his throat as tears creeped up in the wells of his eyes. (He’d always been such a crier.)  “Thank you...”  He leaned forward to just affectionately nudge his head against Dean, lean his weight into him. A hug that didn’t actually involve his arms.

Shuffling out of their bedroom finally, as the clock was inching towards 1pm, Tate rubbed at his sleep blurred eyes. He could hear Mickey banging around in the kitchen; He stepped inside, still a bit drowsy from sleeping for almost fourteen straight hours. (It was a bad habit of his; One that Mickey usually tried to keep him from doing, but considering it was his birthday, he probably gave him some leeway.) His socks made a sliding sound across the kitchen tiles as he barely lifted his feet over to Mickey, then leaned down to rest his cheek onto his shoulder from behind.  “Is that for me?”  He slipped an arm under his boyfriend’s, pointing down towards the pan he was cooking on.

Lingering on the outside of where the Cinema Club, Tate looked in at his peers. It didn’t look like their little meeting had started yet & he was trying hype himself up to join on it - After all, next to poetry and skateboarding, Tate’s next big passion was movies. He spent a considerable amount of time by himself & he needed something to occupy that loneliness. So he chose movies. Primarily horror movies. His hands gripped against the shoulder strap of his rucksack before he let out a sigh & shook his head; He wasn’t going in there, who was he trying to fool. Tate turned on his heel & was going to head back - But he had been in his head, thinking about how pathetic his social skills were, and slammed full force into Charlie, who was heading to that same meeting.

“I’m dead too --- I’d love to see you try.”

Sam & Dean’s visits were basically the only thing that the dead boy had to look forward to these days; Time dragged on and it made the times that they showed up seem so much more spread out than they really were, but he wasn’t going to complain. It was more than anyone else ever did for him - Even his own mother, she would pop by now and again, but never even to check on him. It always had something to do with her own benefit and knowledge. It was partly why he was so cold towards her. Dark, dark eyes glanced up for a moment as he shuffled a well worn deck of cards in his hands.  “I don’t...”  Tate hesitated, then started dealing out; Seven for either of them.  “I don’t really remember. I know that the cops shot me, but the entire day before that is kind of a blur... I think I hurt somebody.”  It was both a lie & the truth. Tate had become aware of his actions because of Violet, but that still didn’t generate any memories. There was a flash here or there, like in a movie or something, but even then he couldn’t differentiate between a genuine memory and a bad dream he might have had. The young boy had been plagued with horrible, violent nightmares practically his entire life. The rest of the cards were set between the two stacks of seven, but Tate didn’t go for his right away, he leaned back into the sofa cushions.  “I must have been pretty bad - whatever it was.”

(Still open!!! I’m going to do them tomorrow since Im off work <3)