@the-scream-extractor

Randall stiffened, barely turning his head to glance over his shoulder toward the small, sweet voice. He felt exposed and judged. Filthy like he’d been caught doing something unnatural. Obscene.  It didn’t sit well in his belly, coiling hot and sickening.

“It damn well means what it says. Inference. Jesus Christ, what do they teach you kids these days-” he began, hunching his shoulders defensively. He wouldn’t dream of revealing that he was wearing the damn things. Not while still living. But all thought was abandoned in favour of silent panic as he found himself wrapped into her arms.

His mind went casually haywire, a steady barrage of ‘shit shit shit,’ drowning out rationality. Randall was not one for casual, unsolicited, touch. He stilled, hands bound awkwardly to his sides by her hug. He bent one arm at the elbow, patting her back disjointedly. “Yep. That’s the point. Don’t. Break. The fucking. White. Chocolate. The box- Just be- CAREFUL.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.” Snow took a step back. Breaking the little crowns would be terrible. They were so cute and someone worked so hard on them. Carefully, she opened the box again. Everything was intact. Pulling one out she held it up to admire. Everything was perfect. Each sprinkle placed just so in the frosting, the swirls all evenly spaced, and the white chocolate crown didn't even have any cracks. Amazing. 

Someone had worked so hard. Turning her amazed gaze back onto his face she realized that someone could have been him. He didn’t look like the baking type, but. That never stopped anyone here from doing something. “Did you make these?” She wanted to ask if she could eat one, but thankfully didn’t. Of course she could eat one; it would be silly to give someone cupcakes and expect them not to eat them. Randall couldn’t be that mean.