Like Words || Ramshackle

V

=============

Seraphic cerulean eyes greet me,
Kindred essence, a smile so dear.
Inking his name feels like a blessing.
Pretty as a piece of poetry.
Pleasuring words amidst his breath is all I needed.

I look at the subject of the acrostic poem himself—he's not on his swing. Instead, he skips around the meadow. His boots are getting covered in dewy grass. I roll my eyes at him, in a good, platonic way.
I lean my focus at the cold evening sky. It's very dark, I assume It's near midnight. Or perhaps maybe a little further behind.

Funny to think that I asked Skipp earlier for a unique word that I'd like to add in a poem that describes a beautiful person.
"Seraphic" he told me.

His eyes were the first thing I thought of.

"Aye, Stone!" His joyful cheer emerges, calling me to sit down next to him. "Over hereeeee."

I slowly make my path off the swing and feel the cold breeze. I ignore my sensations. "Uh, Skipp, the grass is moist... Ramshackle's been experiencing slight rainfall frequently."

"Its just dewy, come on." Skipp invites me to lay down. And so I did, how could I not?
He inches closer to me.
Closer.
He starts playing with my hair, I lean to his touch. Very gentle...
"What am I, so I'm some sort of your pet now?" I yawn.

He ignores me. I can hear his faint breath above as he caresses my stygian hair.
Silence is the preferred response sometimes, hm?

Finally, he speaks. "Wanna roam around Ramshackle?"

It's too late to be doing that. I want to say, but I can't say no to him all of a sudden. "Whatever you say."

...

There's a mild gap separating us as we walk.
The atmosphere's getting colder and colder. Although I'm literally wearing a thick-ass turtleneck layered with a heavy coat. Placing my palm at the back of my neck, I shift my thoughts to the desire of resting my fucked up eyes right now instead of walking around this shitty, crime infested town with-

With...

My friend ?
My best friend? ... What are we?
Lovers ? What, No. Stone, what the hell. Too romantic and inaccurate. I don't think I'll ever feel the electrifying pull of romance.
Brothers? No, too much mixed feelings.
Close friends, I'll stick to that. Yeah, yeah. Best friends.

Skipp turns to me. I can tell that boy's clearly cold. "It's freezing in here, hold on."
I watch him go into an alleyway.
I watch him grab... are those matches? I approach him. "Hey, what the f-"
"-UUCK!"
A candle with raging flames almost burnt me as Skipp grips the handle of the candle holder he basically robbed off an unguarded old vintage kiosk with florette patterns. Nice.

"Oh, my bad, Stone." He covers the flame with his palm against the harsh songs of the wind, slowly backing away from me to prevent injury.

"If you need to set me on fire, just say so."

"No thanks, you're already burning hot."

Oh, uhm. That's bold. "Uhh, thanks." I stare at him, my face neutral and nonchalant. "... I guess."

"Your accent is acting up." The boy with flames laughs at me. "Take it as a compliment."

"Shut up. It just slips out when I get exhausted, alright."
I notice the wind is getting stronger.
I took the dying candle off his hand then sheltered it since my palms are larger in contrast.

"Stone,"
Without leaving a sign, he wraps his scarlet fuzzy scarf around my neck.
"S-Skipp, i don-"

"Nah, I'll survive. I've survived something way worse." He sighs, then he nervously fixes his fingerless gloves. "Rich people suck ass."

The mention of rich people trigger me. My family, all of the trauma they left. I don't like where this conversation is going. For some reason. I fix his scarf and guarded the flame as it regains its strength. My older sister is a bitch.
Avrille Stone. "I understand, really."

This time, the awkward distance between us is gone. We are walking with one another, side by side. We don't dislike rich people, we despise them. We let our mouths run upon the endless cruelty of this society, the impurity swimming deep into their pool of absurd thoughts.
If a scrap like us were to take a quick dive, we would never make it up the surface again.
No matter how hard we swim. A scrap with the kindest soul is still a scrap. We are left with nothing. Nothing can change the way they visualize us.
Just a filthy 'human being'.
Judgemental words chattered in every single corner.

...

It was a long, long walk.
We had a silly debate whether to run away from Ramshackle or not. It went... wild.
Me and Skipp alternately held the melting candle, now the flame is almost gone - the perfect timing since we are getting closer to slum alley. You can tell by the horrid smell. Plus the loud snoring since It's late, obviously. Too late.

"Jeeeeeez, these people are sure loud..." Skipp complains. This time, I returned his scarf back to him. I wrapped it around his neck, trying to not strangle him. It covers his ears.
He looks funny, I can't help but chuckle a bit. He rolls his eyes.

"You know who snores the loudest?" I ask. We both smirk.

"Vinnie."

We said her name in unison. A little bit too in unison. We just laughed hysterically after that like retired drug dealers giving out candy to children on Mondays.
"AHHAHHAHAAUAUAEHEHA HAHA AAAAUUEEHGH"
I think we laughed a little too hard that we woke the Siamese-looking twins and started to go feral and aim empty cans at us. Luckily, Cen and Rigel didn't actually chase us—that would be awful. Really awful. This late in midnight, why were they even awake?

Him and I are still deep in laughter, until we finally arrive home around two in the morning.

Home.

We were right, Vinnie's snore is really that loud. We lay close to each other, this is what slums do.

"I had fun today, thanks a lot, Stone." Skipp whispers.

"Me t-"

It all happened in a vibrant flash,

when he kisses me on the cheek.

-end of chapter-

P.S. okay D0ntWannaB3H3r3  pls dont eat LightFr0mAbov3