Rekindling- Pico x Keith/BF

8- Thistle and Twine

[hey guys i'm so sorry it's taken me so long to get this chapter out, i've been kind of devoid of inspiration and so it took me a bit longer than usual. i've decided from now on i'll try to at least update every friday, maybe more if i'm feeling motivated. i hope that's okay! i know it's a big change from the sporadic updates i did at first and knowing me i probably won't stick with it for long, but it's worth a try! i hope you guys like this chapter, expect to see more of our beloved Cherry in the next one!!]

Pico was surprised to find himself more happy than usual as he walked home from Keith's house. The two had spent the afternoon together watching cheesy movies that were easy to talk through, something he appreciated seeing as he didn't want to be forced to chat about serious subjects. It had been a bit of a weird experience, considering Keith's unexpected habits, and the circumstances that caused him to end up in his apartment, but he couldn't say he minded. It was nice to do something for once, instead of moping in his room or doing odd jobs that left him drowning in paranoia. There weren't many people Pico felt comfortable being around, as most others around him seemed to believe that when speaking to him it was either like walking on eggshells or talking with a murderer. And, he supposed, maybe he was that in a way.

No. He couldn't think about that, not now, when he'd finally had a decent day after so long of floating through this ugly cycle. I deserve a break. Pico let a sigh whistle out through his teeth, carding a hand through his ginger hair and closing his eyes. Although talking with Keith had been easygoing, he still felt exhausted after so much social interaction. He wanted nothing more than to rush home to his apartment and flop onto his bed. And maybe eat those last three oreos too. The sky was marbled with pinks and oranges, a lazy hue of gold filtering through his eyelashes from the sun. A sharp breeze nipped at his cheeks and he dug his chin deeper into his turtleneck, shivering. It was slowly but surely getting colder outside, and Pico knew that soon the gorgeous coral and ruby colors of autumn would turn to a mesh of grays and browns, the trees becoming bare and bone-thin. He never understood the allure of fall, when all the nice weather and beauty would dissipate within the span of a few weeks.

Slowly the buildings around him became more rundown, the roads turning from ebony tar to a dusty brown. The sidewalks were cracked and squeezed with weeds, the smell of smoke and gas lingering in the air. Pico wrinkled his nose at the smell, shoving his hands in the pockets of his khakis and looking down. He always had to walk through here to get home, the part of the city that felt rundown and overgrown, filled to the brim with both dangerous and scared people. Usually a mix of both. There was a gang or two in the area as well, one that the police either didn't have the time or just didn't care to weed out, although Pico suspected they were mostly just lost kids looking for a place to fit in. Even in the strongest bursts of summer, things always felt bland and dull here, everyone with shifty eyes and ripped clothes. He supposed he fit in here just fine, probably coming off as one of the more skilled or even dangerous ones in the area, but it wasn't something he enjoyed. He didn't like feeling so trapped within the narrow streets, and a guilty little part of him always walked through as fast as he could so he wouldn't have to break up any fights- or maybe just not see them. The truth was, it always taxed him and left him with injuries he couldn't properly treat when he tried to save people from getting mugged, or worse, but he just couldn't pass by and let it happen. At least that's one good trait of mine.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a hand on his shoulder, whipping around and feeling for the gun in his pocket before he realized it wasn't there and froze. Of course. He'd left it home yesterday in an attempt to alleviate some of his paranoia, and after all he'd thought he'd be going home soon after, not to Keith's. Now here he was, having learned nothing from his past mistakes, about to get beaten to a pulp-