#papcrman

Patrick’s tongue rolls across his bottom lip in thought as he leans back, scoffing slightly. Truth be told, Patrick wasn’t dense, he damn well knew what happened...no..who happened. He had seen Butch hit Henry before, and truth be told it scared the shit out of him. Even with how Patrick felt about the world, he cared about Henry, Vic and Belch unlike anything else in the world. They were brothers, they needed to defend one another.

“We could kill him,” Patrick whispers softly, his gaze abandoning his friends busted lip to stare off into the distance. Patrick had thought of it before, but truthfully he had thoughts like these quite often but...he never really vocalized it.

             If you had a s k e d Eddie if something like t h i s would ever h a p p e n he’d laugh. Even w i t h o u t Henry’s father around, Henry was s t i l l the s a m e Henry from b e f o r e. It would t a k e a lot of c o n v i n c i n g for Eddie to see him any o t h e r way. Eddie l o o k s up at Henry as this is h a p p e n i n g, his eyes closing ever so s l i g h t l y as he feels the f i n g e r s in his hair. This was s u r p r i s i n g l y very sweet and e n j o y a b l e almost.

henry: hey bill, is this gay

*record scratch*

*freeze frame*

“There’s such a vivid sense of apathy in you, boy.. Tell me..who planted such a crippling indifference in such a pliable mind, even when standing beside a corpse?” Red runs hot around their feet, still..the space surrounding the two, now befallen with an electric silence. The blade is wiped swiftly against his sweater, then against the bed of a deranged tongue. 

 “henry,  i swear, if you throw me out the window i’m gonna come back as a ghost and i’ll annoy you so much you won’t be able to do homework or sleep --” he learned his choice negotiating skills from richie, obviously. the words come out breathlessly,  punctuated by giggles.  he continued trying to wiggle free.  “----  i’m sorry, okay! i’m sorry, put me down --!!” 

            ❝ ———–  fuck. ❞                the word is strained ,  but  resonant  /  echo playing on school cellar walls.    bug - eyed boy’s efforts had been valiant in the chase ,  managing to somehow by the grace of powers unknown evade his courting captor.    but skinny legs were no match for a misplaced broom in a familiar stairwell ------ the fall was quick  but it stole his breath --- which is to say that he lays in waiting ,  motionless on the floor ,  willing would - be bruises to nurse themselves.    the only movement now to adjust skewed glasses.   

╰☆☆ ❝ ｊａｃｋ ｂｅ ｌｅｔｈａｌ, ｊａｃｋ ｂｅ ｓｌｉｃｋ. ❞ ☆☆╮