NIKKI & JOE, CASUALLY | updates every monday

50: in lieu of homocide

            I were thrilled when Cece asked to help with cooking but as they chop carrots for the stir fry, I have to keep checking that he isn't going to stab himself.

He must notice my constant glances because when I do it again, they meet me with a hardened "what the fuck do you want?" expression. It curls at the edges until it wavers and their glare slumps to the cutting board.

'Am I doing it wrong?'

'What? No! You can't chop carrots wrong.'

Their momentary fear stretches into a smirk that reveals the elongated steel canines of their grillz. Their new dimple piercings dig into their cheeks. 'That a challenge?'

I exhale a laugh as I stir the onions, only for my attention to snap back to Cece when I process the trapdoor behind his words. 'Please don't cut off your fingers to prove me wrong.'

Though I know they're watching, my focus flicks to the knife again.

Rolling his eyes, Cece rotates it with a lazy wrist and starts a joke only to cut themself off. Even they know it's too soon. I can still see the blade jutting out of their thigh if I try and that were nearly two years ago.

They chop the rest of the carrots and scoop them into the bowl with the rest of the veggies they've already cut. Usually I'd just use a frozen mix but Cece wanted to cook together. I'm always skint but one fresh broccoli is not gonna bankrupt me.

'So how are things with Quinn?' I ask uncertainly. Will they prefer me to show interest in their friends or does it come across as an interrogation?

'Well they're fucking insufferable and make me watch shit musicals all the time so I might actually scoop my eyeballs out and stuff em in my ears, but mint.'

Cece bends over Esther who has been roused from her nap by the scent of food. He scratches her well aggressively behind the ears. Whoever were her owner before she ended up at Oak Shaw cropped them but they still flop around when he wrestles her head from side to side.

'There are more queer people at my school than I thought, considering it's fuck-all nowhere Somerset. I loathe ninety per cent of them,' he rushes to add so I don't even think about thinking about the possibility that they might actually be enjoying themself. 'But there are a few sound people around.'

Cece straightens up and Esther announces her displeasure, nudging their hands with her snout. He scratches the top of her head, absentmindedly this time.

'I told Quinn about the... you know, me. They were well nice about it.'

I reach a hand toward him only to tuck it to my side before they notice. 'That's good.'

They nod.

'You can press the garlic if you want,' I say, grateful for the simmering onions for providing me with an excuse for the mist gathering over my eyes.

Still, I dare a proud smile when they aren't looking; they told someone. Willingly. And not only after the damage happened. Maybe he's practising talking about himself too.

Cece washes their hands and dries them on their trousers rather than the kitchen towel right in front of him. 'Also, I, uh... I re-applied to some of those art programmes.'

I stomp my excitement into summat that won't raise his defences. 'That's mint, Cece.'

They scratch the corner of their eye, realise, and wash their hands again. 'Yeah, well, they said that I could if I worked on the behaviour stuff...' Their spine jerks and they convulse though barely pay attention to it. 'Dunno, though. I'm already doing an extra year of school. I should probably just hack it through the A-levels at this point.'