jonut oneshot i wrote at like 4am last night, implied to be from my wip scream au :3
Heâs been staring too long, he knows he has but it was hard to look away.
Larry had been stuck in the same, small loop for about 15 minutes now; his hands trembled in his lap, scratching at his jeans like they were aching for stimulation, before they swiftly moved up and began peeling the dry skin from his lips like they were the only thing holding back words heâs never been able to say. Then heâd bleed, slow and only a drop too, but infatuating to Johnny nonetheless. Tired eyes watched larryâs tongue peak out of his mouth and lick his lips clean of the blood before it could slip down his chin. Then his hands would drop, and the loop would repeat within minutes.
Theyâre both tired, exhausted out of their minds from both their personal lives, and the lives they live as the greasers. The ragtag gang leaders of New Coventry. Responsibilities stressful and heavy.
Johnny spent the last hour crying. Sobbing, his face hurt, and his legs wouldnât stop shaking under him as he curled up tighter under the bedding of his right-hand-man's bed, fingers tightening into the old t-shirt filling in for a pillowcase.
âThought ya stopped doinâ that..â his voice, shaky and coarse, broke the weird air that hung over them, even with the window open and rain dribbling onto the sill. Atleast, it did to him. Larry wasnât budging, his eyes havenât moved from the screen of his box TV despite nothing being on. It was disturbing, seeing larry, someone usually so playful and teasing, so.. Dead.
Maybe Johnny wasnât the best at all that poetic, moody bullshit, but he truly felt the larry he was watching was merely a corpse; a rotting soul stuck in a pretty body.
âLarry.â nothing, not even a blink.
âLarry..â the eyes he was staring into seemed to shift, shake in their socket as whatever was decomposing in him was becoming aware.
âLarry!â Johnny didnât mean to raise his voice, but he wouldn't say he regrets it, not as Larry was finally looking at him, albeit confused and almost shaken looking.
âAh, whaâsat? S-sorry, Vinny, was.. Thinkinâ.â He was apologetic, as usual. The tremble in his hands transformed into twitching of his finger as he grasped at the back of his neck, eyes drooping but not daring to close, gazing deeply into johnnyâs own eyes through his dark eyelashes.
Johnny paused, feeling as thought, mentally, heâs lost himself in the dark irisâ of his dear friend,Â
âThinkin too damn hard, iâll tell ya that.â He spoke, clear and confident as ever, but there was a tinge in his voice. A mold, feeding off his sadness and fear, spreading with every touch shared with Larry.
Larry. Oh, Larry.. Even with everything happening, he was always by Johnnyâs side, clinging and whispering affirmations to him like he was keeping a rabid dog at bay with slabs of raw meat.
The nightâs heâd go completely missing, no answered calls, bedroom window locked and bike missing from the lot.
The mornings heâd return, eyeâs never seeing anyone heâs looking at, handâs trembling and a sickening tone in his voice as he spoke to Johnny.
And Johnny.. Poor, little Johnny reveled in it all, craving the feel of Larryâs hands roaming up and down his arms or fingering through his hair. The shivers he felt when Larry got real close and let his head fall into Johnny's neck, breathing him in slowly like he was fog crawling up from the beach. The Glares he knew were being thrown over his shoulder when Larry found anyone looking Johnnyâs way.
âJohnny? You alright?â a sift nudge to johnnyâs shoulder, followed by a warm knuckle tapped against his jaw.
âYeah, âm fine. Sorry. Was just.. Whereâve you been disappearinâ to as of late?â he leaned in, almost unnoticeably closer, and forced his lips apart only a sliver, letting their breaths mingle like old friends. He was met with silence.
He looked up to meet Larryâs eyes â when did he take up staring at his lips, again? â and felt a pang of discomfort in the look he was being given. The eyes he was so used to seeing wide and sparkling were.. Flat. dark and tired.
âYou know where.â His voice was like honey in the most disgusting way possible, and Johnny felt gross for liking it. For knowing and pretending he didnât.
His head moved up and down slowly, âyeah. Yeah, i do know.â teeth clenched and hands met between the two boys, undisturbed in the darkness of the room, âAnd i forgive you.â
Hands tightened around each other, nails digging into skin and fingers pulling against scarred skin.
It didnât take long for their lips to find each other, pressing together hard and fast. Blood and saliva mixing faster then theyâd ever admit; not out of shame or embarrassment, instead because this moment is theirs. Only theirs.
Larryâs hands were rough and aggressive on Johnnyâs cheeks, and Johnnyâs own were scratching over Larryâs lower back, both feeling a filthy mix of admiration and a desire to hurt each other.
Who ever said murder in the name of love was wrong?
cross posted to @rayneisweird
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