Greed Fischer (BXB)

Chapter 3

Greed was sitting on the park bench watching me skate in a furious rage. AWOLNATION was blasting in my right ear as my left earbud dangled near my waist. The metal railing screeched almost soothingly as I slid across it and then ducked into the bowl.

Those dark bruises painted ominous shadows across his face, dressed with small cuts that said the assailant was wearing rings. He was ethereal. Satanically angelic.

White hair fluttered in the calm breeze that wafted across the west side of Corrigan. Violet eyes sharp and distant as they watched my every move. Who put that look in his eyes?

I was free from guilt and yet, part of me was still disappointed because I chose to walk away. Because I left Greed Fischer on that ledge when he needed me the most. I lacked courage and that was apparent.

I was also embarrassed that Greed had witnessed my mother's wrath, because it was something I kept quiet about. Jaz and Amari thought she was just hard on me – they didn't know that she was drunk.

The worst thing is, from that small interaction I'm sure he had it all figured out. My dad was never home and my mum was drunk and I was weak. I felt the bitter taste of oversharing, despite not having said a word.

In my distracted state, I mistimed a jump and my skateboard slid from underneath me and I went flying into the concrete. I tumbled across the rough ground as pain knocked every spot the cement kissed. I groaned in annoyance before yanking myself up and tucking my skateboard underneath my arm. Everything was so fucked. Blood dripped from my elbow.

"You alright, Baby Tiger?" Came his deep voice.

I nodded and walked over to the bench he was sitting on.

The soft moonlight cast shadows over his face as violet eyes locked onto the blood dribbling down my arm. Who made Greed want to jump?

"Who gave you them bruises, Greed?" I asked tentatively. Although I was the only person Greed had, I didn't think it would be enough to stop him from beating the shit out of me.

"No one, Iniko." He sighed before raising his eyebrow, "Peanut, you better clean up that blood."

I scowled at him, "stop with the stupid names," I paused before gasping sarcastically, "oh my god, can you even bleed you weird ghostman...?"

Greed scowled down at me, but I didn't miss the twinkle in his eyes, "shut up, Baby Duck."

"A baby duck is a duckling," I corrected before frowning, "okay, let me get this straight...so you – freaky mean ghostman – jumped off the bridge like a stupid prick, drowned...then...magically woke up alive with some freaky vodoo shit on your wrist?"

"I'm not a ghost." Greed rolled his eyes before reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a handkerchief and yanked me closer by a strong grip on my bicep.

"W-what are you –

"Quiet, Muffin."

I glowered at him before mumbling underneath my breath, "don't tell me to be quiet, stupid ghoul."

Greed raised an eyebrow up at me and my heart stuttered in my chest. His fingers tightened around my bicep and he leaned over. Spicy cologne infected my senses and I tried not to think about how dizzy his scent made me feel.

His tight grip was bruising, but like in my room, the pain only seemed to fuel the fire trickling down my spine. Angelic demon.

Suicide takes courage...and it takes an insane amount of fear. Greed Fischer couldn't die, according to the tattoo that was currently etched onto his skin, so did that take away the courage? Like Superman. Superman knows that he's immortal and that an array of bullets being shot at him can't hurt him – is that courage? If Greed stands up on that ledge again and falls – is that courage? Knowing that he'll wake up again on the bank of the same river that he wanted to die in.