Revolution (rewrite) - Lashton AU boyxboy

prologue

here it is folks. the beginning of the rewrite dun dun DUN

also lil announcement, if u didnt like emma in the first book then dont worry her character has been...edited. A LOT WILL BE DIFFERENT BUT DONT LET IT SCARE YOU

also i'll just say it now weed's gonna play it bit bigger part in this story now that i'm so educated

x

The human consciousness is probably more a curse than it will ever be a gift.

On the one hand, human consciousness has lead us to miraculous scientific discoveries, such as Isaac Newton's discovery that there is force that keeps us from falling off our planet into an endless pit of space and nothing, or Charles Darwin's discovery of adaptation in the Galapagos thanks to his weird drive towards decomposing finch corpses. But on the other hand...who the hell cares? Newton proved that gravity holds us to the Earth, and Darwin discovered that we came from apes, or maybe fish, or whatever it really is, but that doesn't change my life at all. Not knowing that gravity is holding me to the Earth doesn't make gravity stop holding me to the Earth, and it's not like I'll live to see the human race evolve back into monkeys. Or fish. Or whatever.

The point is the human consciousness has never done me any favors.

The only bit of the human consciousness I get to experience on a day to day basis is my own miserable self, and the morons around me. Basically, if I were Charles Darwin, then everyone else in Chicago would be a finch: a stupid, useless bird.

A blond finch in the distance observes me, leaning casually on the hood of my Trans Am with a pinner pinched between my lips, sweat gathering at my hairline in this August heat. When he gets closer, I realize he looks like the kind of guys I usually fuck. You know, with that innocent, doe-eyed look...one night with me and he'd be naughty for life. Fuck, who even smokes pinners? You can't offer a guy your pinner without looking like a pussy. I should've brought a joint. Something to offer that walking aphrodisiac.

When he's a few yards away, his eyes are still trained on me, and I'm not surprised I reeled him in this quickly. A guy like him needs a guy like me to make him feel good. And I have the look, you know. The scruffy, tough-guy look. It's enough to get him to fuck me before he realizes what an asshole I am and goes running for the hills. And well, all I need is one night with this beautiful Aphrodite-esque boy. One night of nothing but the most intense, selfish pleasure he's ever felt and then I'd send him on his way, never to see him again.

He takes me by surprise when he stops in front of me, and I think for a second that maybe it's okay. Maybe he'll make the first move and maybe it's okay that I don't have a real joint to offer him--maybe we'll still get our night. I look up at him after a few seconds of fighting the urge, greeted by cold, gray-blue eyes, one just the slightest bit darker than the other. The eyebrow over his darker eye raises questioningly.

"Marijuana's illegal in Chicago, you know."

Fuck. I should've known he was too young to be true. Must be a freshman, straight out of high school, no idea what college has to offer. Example A: it's the first day of the semester and he's just missed his best chance at getting laid until he finally establishes himself here. I would've fucked him whether I knew he was a freshman or not, but strangers criticizing my way of life is my bête noire. The ultimate turn off.

"Who the fuck are you?" I bite. If he's not stopping to ask me if I want to head back to his place, then he doesn't get to stop at all.

He raises his eyebrows, looking vaguely surprised at my reaction, but it doesn't outweigh the overpowering look of boredom that seems more like a mien than anything else. So I don't impress him. So what? I don't need some baby-faced kid running around telling everyone I fucked him, anyway. I'm a junior here. I can get laid if I want to.

"Luke Hemmings," he smiles, much more buoyantly than his previous demeanor would've lead you to expect. He stuffs his hands in his pockets, furrowing his eyebrow and peaking around the side of my car. "Nice car. '83 Trans Am?"

"If I see your eyes go anywhere near my car again I will beat you unconscious with a tire iron," I respond flatly, and this time he does look taken aback. He flinches when I scoff in his face. "Get to stepping, moron."

He leaves looking like I just shoved a stick up his ass with my own two hands, and I realize I've gotten to the end of the stupid pinner. Great. Got high enough to start feeling horny and then scared away a beautiful solution to my problems. If there were ever a metaphor for my life...

I snuff the burning filter and toss it onto the ground, not bothering to kick it away from myself. No one else would stop and pester me about smoking weed on campus because they know they'd regret opening their mouth if they did. That kid should be careful. A tire iron could do some serious damage to that pretty face of his.

So if Darwinism has taught me anything, it's that I feel alone in this universe because I'm one of few developmentally stable people in a universe full of underdeveloped finches.

x

a pinner is just a really thin joint in case it wasnt obvious

CHAPTER ONE WILL BE UP SOON I LOVE REVOLUTION IM SO EXCITED