TOUCH | F. Hargreeves

06

TW!: Overdose callback - not explicit. Killing, blood - explicit

Beau never really had a problem with taking lives, especially to those who deserved it, and in some sick, sadistic, way Beau somewhat enjoyed it. He liked the sight of blood, the colour and the fluidity as it ran down skin and stained floors. Did that make him psychotic? Beau was sure he was there anyway, able to call himself that word and actually have it be true in a way. 

The others knew of his fascination for death and after intentionally trying to take his own life it had become a worry to some of them. But for Beau killing, blood, and his own demise were two completely different things. He liked to kill because of adrenaline, to see the light fade from their eyes and see the sight of blood coating his hands. He wanted to take his life because he was unhappy, feeling as though he was a burden with no real purpose in the world other than to take care of his sick mother. It was different.

As soon as a group of men walked into the shop, their steps heavy and their guns clinking slightly, Beau knew exactly what was about to go down. Five side-eyed him and gave him a small nod which Beau returned, "Hmm. That was fast. I thought I'd have more time before they found me." Five spoke nonchalantly, gripping onto his mug while Beau was gulping his drink down without a care.

"Okay," One of the men spoke, gun pointing to their heads, "So let's all be professional about this, yeah? On your feet and come with us. They want to talk." This confused Beau a little as to who was hunting Five down but knew it was a terrible time to ask the boy beside him.

"I've got nothing to say." Five retorted monotonously, seeing the faint red glow emitting from Beau's hands that now lay flat on the counter, it made a smirk appear on his features.

The man sighed, "It doesn't have to go this way. You think I want to shoot a kid? Go home with that on my conscience?"

Beau held back a scoff and a chuckle all at the same time, biting his lip in amusement because he knew none of them would be getting out alive, not when Five told him he could kill every last one of them with a single look.

"Well, I wouldn't worry about that." Five told them, leaning over ever so slightly to grab a butter knife from the counter and gripping it tightly, "You won't be going home."

All at once, the men began shooting at the flash of blue light while, unknown to them, Beau raised his hands. The glow intensified as tendrils of light wrapped around his fingers and the incoming bullets, stopping in midair before all falling to the ground with a clang. 

Five stabbed one of the men in the throat from behind while Beau stood from his seat and used all of his force to punch the closest man in the jaw, cracking it and causing him to fall to the floor. Another came at Beau with his gun raised, Beau smirked and grabbed the weapon with a single flick of his wrist and ripped it from the man's grasp. The next thing the man knew a fork was sticking out of his jugular and blood sprayed all over himself, the floor and Beau. Now the boy seemed more murderous than before.

Beau wiped the blood from his eyes and took his coffee mug, throwing it and hitting another man square in the face causing it to shatter while he forced the bullets flying towards Five to drop. Taking hold of that same man's mind, Beau began ripping it in two, terrifying screams probably being heard from five blocks away and Beau revelled in it. We've already established this, he's sick.

Now down to the last twitching, whimpering few, Beau stood on one of their throats and standing on it with all of his body weight while Five bent down to snap another's neck swiftly. The sickening cracks of both necks were heard and the pair sighed heavily.

Beau sat down on his stool as he watched Five grab a knife, sharper than the butter knife he had before, and began slicing into his arm.

"Hey, that's my thing." Beau pointed out with a frown.