This prologue will start off as a POV of a third-person. He is for you-know-who, and the friend is for the friend. I just don't want to spill their names out here.
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P R O L O G U E
( the brief introduction to the our main devil )
- 6 months ago -
"Fuckin' Hellfire."
He harshly spat as his hand jolted out to smash against the plain white wall in front of him. Veins popping out immediately as his teeth gritted along with his jaw clenched. His arm twisted to the side as he felt pain struck onto his hand knuckles. His eyes twitching a little, but he didn't care. It was a way for him to forget the awful incident that happened few hours ago. He couldn't get it off of his chest, even when he was having a cooldown break, the memory had appeared back in a flash. Almost as if it had taken him back to that time.
His friend stared at him with his eyes widened and his upper and bottom lips slightly apart from each other. There was concern and worry plastered onto his look, but he knew what his friend was like when he gets angry. It was almost impossible to control. Kind of like how to make the Hulk to calm down, but doubt that could happen in a short amount of time. His friend swallowed the lump in his throat as he spoke.
"Compandre, forget 'bout him, man. You don't have to fight him anymore."
He informed, trying to suggest a better idea. But he knew his friend was a pretty stubborn person, even if he had told him hundreds of time — or even bazillion — he did not ever listen. It was as if he is deaf. He had to admit he got one of the most hotheaded and stubborn friends on Earth. Literally. There is nothing he could do to help, beside giving advice that his friend didn't want to take into consideration.
The friend sighed, his jaw getting agitated from saying the same words over again since hours ago. He had almost gotten enough of his friend's obstinate behavior. Let's just say he got a little more endurance and patience inside himself and good self-control. He lifted a hand to his back before scratching the back of his neck with an unreadable expression. Still not leaving the sight of the Hulk imitator in front of him.
"Let's just enjoy the party, ey? amigo?" He tried to convince him again, trying to get rid of his anger and intimidation. He didn't reply, instead, he stood there like a statue for quite some moments. His friend didn't want to proceed in blabbering a little further, because he knows that might frustrate him more.
The friend thought to himself, how the hell did he became friends with him in the first place? Being like an idiot that he and everyone knows he is, he somehow managed to forget how they first met for a second.
"Need a drink." His hotheaded friend's hoarse voice blurted out grimly under his hot breath. His friend wanted to interrupt and told him that he could just get the drink delivered to him but no, his hand gripped onto his friend's shoulder to stop his swift movements. Releasing his hand from the wall, he cussed out few colorful words under his breath that only him can hear it.
His friend stood there watching his every subtle movements. The stiffness of his trudging down the stairs that you can probably hear his heavy shoes slumping onto the ground if the loud blaring music wasn't present. His hand reached up to his forehead to exasperatedly massaged his temples with a panic mixed with madness glued to his expression. He let out a breather before reaching the kitchen. His throat was dry and in need of a liquid to get rid of the strain in his voice.
YOU ARE READING
The Ways He Fall
Teen FictionHow do you get back at your childhood tormentor from middle school? To Milana Cavallero, the answer is simple: just crash every party he throws, until his senior year ends. Of course, that's easy when your single dad is a local police officer. Alway...