The Death of Our Innocence (Dead Plate Swap AU)

Fly Me to the Moon

15 years ago.

Vincent often made a habit of using the money his parents gave him to buy cigarettes. No one seemed to care that he was visibly young when he went up to store clerks and ask for a pack, merely claiming that it was for his father if anyone ever questioned him.

Adults did it, so it was fine. His mother and father were avid smokers, and so their son followed faithfully in their faded footsteps.

Both him and Rody began smoking at fifteen years old, very often sneaking behind the school building to light one up away from prying eyes. Though Rody quit the unhealthy habit shortly after turning eighteen, for Vincent, it remained a lifelong vice that would probably compromise his health sooner or later.

But they were both kids back then. Both trying to scurry their way into growing up in the name of freedom, not yet realizing adulthood only means freedom if one is wealthy, neurotypical and not a minority.

Everyone else?

Well, they best conform to what society expects of them or they might as well kill themselves while they're ahead. The world wasn't made for people like them.

"Hey, remember the lighter you gave me? It was just out of fluid, it works now."

The energetic call of Rody's voice captures Vincent's attention. The boy tears his gaze away from the spot in the horizon he had been absentmindedly staring at, craning his head to peer at Rody through the thick lenses of his glasses.

He takes in Rody's unruly yet strangely endearing appearance. The way his messy locks of auburn frame his face, the warm hue only bringing out the greenish grey of his iris. Freckled cheeks risen to form a toothy grin, eyes crinkled at the edges as he holds up the metallic lighter Vincent had gifted to him a few days ago.

Vincent doesn't even realize his eyes linger upon him for too long.

"See? I fixed it. Pretty impressive, right? You're so impressed right now."

He looks so proud of himself that it is hard not to crack the slightest hint of a smile at the sight of his overwhelming joy. In contrast to Vincent, Rody was always akin to a bundle of energy, yet somehow, they seemed to get along very well. When Rody would constantly ramble on and on about various things that fascinated, Vincent would patiently listen, enjoying the fact he didn't have to talk in order to be understood for a change.

"I am very impressed, yes." Vincent utters, a small chuckle pushing past the threshold of his mouth as he watches the way his friend toys with the metal cap of the lighter. "You have a knack for this kinda stuff, huh? What's next? You'll learn how to make molotov cocktails?"

Rody's eyes light up at the question, like a dog that perks up when it hears a familiar word. If he had a tail, it would probably be wagging.

"Oh, I already know how to do that! A lot simpler than you think. You just take a bottle, place a flammable liquid inside like oil or gasoline and then just--"

"Okay, okay. I get it." Vincent interjects, uncertain as to whether he should be impressed or concerned by Rody's extensive knowledge when it came to such destructive matters. "You should be careful with that stuff. Anything that can create a fire is very dangerous. You could get into a lot of trouble."

"I'm not some kind of vandal. I'm careful." Rody huffs, almost offended. His lips purse into a small pout as he half-heartedly glares at the gravel below his shoes. "I just like looking at it, you know? The flames in our fireplace, or the fireworks in the sky.. I think there's a beauty there more people should appreciate."