Deflower

Chapitre Vingt-Trois

"We might have a problem."

With the sun unobstructed by dark clouds, and fingers fidgeting with the grass that nearly swallowed the floral sheet upon which the small boy was seated, Thomas sat next to an aged tree, his knees drawn to his torso, and a book before his eager eyes. Kyle had felt like a true creep for watching him intently for a minute or two before mustering the courage to approach him, for lack of better word. He wondered which book it was that Thomas drew his attention to so adamantly—and perhaps he wished that it was him that Thomas averted his gaze to—but other thoughts polluted his mind as he pursued to watch the small boy. It was only when Kyle stood before him, that azure eyes found Kyle's dark ones. Kyle didn't speak, and thus Thomas supposed that it was his to take the initiative.

Perhaps primal instinct kicked in—to fight or to flight— but Thomas remained calm under Kyle's stare. There should have been a looming excitement growing within the pit of his stomach, per the end of the school year was coming nearer, but instead, a nauseating sense of fear and anger made Thomas feel as though he had devoured a rotten fruit—apple, pear, cherry, mango; Thomas could not name it, but there lingered an awful aftertaste upon his tastebuds and it reminded him that something much less exciting than the ending of the school year was awaiting him. It did not make it much better that it appeared as though nature was cruelly reflecting the plethora of emotions whirling within his head. No rain had yet been visible, the day was clear and the sky was a beautiful shade of blue, but it was all too clear that there was a big storm ahead.

"Hello, to you, too, Tommy," Kyle rolled his eyes, voice inexplicably flushed with annoyance at his friends brief and impersonal attitude; nonetheless, had Thomas bombarded him with dulcet euphemisms and compliments and all things sickeningly sweet, Kyle was smart enough to have effortlessly seen straight through him. So in one way, Kyle was content that Thomas was not attempting to charm his way out; Kyle feared he would be unable to hold his ground, should he have tried to. "You can't talk to me like we did before, now? We're friends, dear Tommy—we could bicker about other things than that burden, that prude." A warm smile eased his words and despite his efforts to seem intimidating and harsh, the searing blush atop his cheeks betrayed him.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Thomas rolled his eyes inwardly—a friend would never threaten to betray the other. Again, a snarky remark threatened to slip from his lips, but he was deftly reminded that the last time he had attempted to provoke him, even without carrying the intention to, he had been put right in his place without hesitation. How one moment Kyle could look at Thomas as though he was a young god, the other his eyes foretold tales of blood and battle and war. Thomas didn't know what to think, because the inner havoc that brewed within his mind stood in the way of thinking clear; of thinking without permitting his morals and beliefs to get in the way. "But we do, or we might, have a problem. And from what I've seen of it, it might be a big one."

A sad breath fell from Kyle's lips as his big eyes slowly travelled to the pale clouds above them. He was the one of two that had years ago, already, accepted that life was nothing as it was portrayed, and not even in America; no colors of life there were vibrant and vivid red, blues, and whites, but monochrome and exhausting hues of black and white. He'd remembered his mama sitting in front of the mirror, lathering her full lips with red lipgloss and moments after, had his papa slapped her across the pretty face, uttering something about red and it being a whore's hue—ever since, no piece of garment inside of his closet had held even the closest to the color red. And he would rather wear clothes that were torn at the seams and years of age, than to wear something that was red. "Do tell, Thomas, I'm sincerely curious!" Kyle answered after a few moments of his attention falling elsewhere. He smiled, but Thomas knew the reality behind the silhouette of curved corners of lips and bright eyes.

"Well, I'm getting nowhere with the plan—I'm a friend to her. That's all," Thomas began, muttering under his breath whilst nervously gazing up at Kyle, causing the boys poor heart to pound heavily against his ribs. No matter how much Thomas wished to tell him of how he had done what he had been asked, that he had filled her up with his love, it appeared to him that solely a miracle would give him the opportunity. An unwavering focus came over Kyle when his eyes found Thomas, and nearly, the rings within the smaller boys orbs were sufficient to drown out the sound of his voice.  "But she's got another friend, and it's he that is the issue. I haven't seen him yet, though, but the way she looked at him—as if he's placed all the damn stars in the sky." He wasn't too far from the truth; Lo did look at Vincent, whom remained an unfamiliar and unnamed figure to Thomas, as though he had crafted mankind and all the pleasantries the world had to offer.

"You're telling me that she's falling in love with someone—that someone's worthy enough for her to give him attention?" Kyle titled his head to one side and furrowed thick brows, one inching so very close to the other that they appeared to be one straight line. Kyle could not believe Thomas' words, no matter how adamantly he wanted to. In the years of living within Lo's neighborhood, Kyle had gathered two things: that Lo was exceptionally unapproachable, even if her face was sweet and features soft and her intentions dulcet, and two, that no boy was well and fair enough to be blessed with her attention. And this lead Kyle to suppose that whomever it had been, would probably have to be very special.

"I think so, yeah. I think he's got her wrapped around his finger. She looked at him like you look at It just gets me wondering—what the fuck does he possess of that I don't?" Thomas shook his head from left to right with obvious frustration lacing his words. Kyle could only allow a few little laughs to push past his lips—and a warm smile followed upon it. It was not what Thomas had hoped for, or expected, per he had thought Kyle would simply nod and listen without the necessary interest in his words, and yet, the small gesture gave him an almost satisfying feeling of comfort. Nevertheless, there was no source that could have implied that Kyle was intending to comfort him or make him feel at place—Tommy knew this, too. And so he shook off the calm expression that threatened to creep upon his face, and allowed it to make place for one that was practically unreadable. And perhaps that was how he wanted it to be, because the times he did permit Kyle to crawl over the walls he had built around himself with as sole use protection, it had only lead to ambush and misery.

"Well, he could be tall. And actually handsome." Kyle teased playfully, and Thomas didn't seem the half bit of amused as he shoved him—gently. However, he'd been very tempted to flash the other boy an amused, boyish grin. Then, as though planned out by the gods, a heavy drop of rain tainted the warm flesh of the tallest boy of two, and had he not been too occupied with gazing at the scowl upon the small face of his friend, Kyle would have flinched at the sudden contact. Both of the teenagers frowned and one rolled his eyes out of pure dismay; the storm seemingly had been closer than expected. Rather difficulty, Thomas gathered his stuff that had littered the ground, holding the novel in one hand and his bottle of water in the other, and arose from where he had previously been seated so comfortably.

"Yeah, whatever," Thomas muttered and crossed his arms over his chest, but his ocean eyes widened and his lips parted when he took notice of the fact that Kyle had already began to leave; simply and shamelessly left Thomas standing there, as though they hadn't been conversing earlier. A bit offended, Thomas scoffed. "Hey, excuse me? What the fuck do I even do with that guy?" Thomas chanted after the familiar figure of Kyle, and combed a few fingers through already wet locks of hair. Kyle took halt to his confident and quick stride, to turn to Thomas, once again, with a small but barely noticeable grin on his lips and a few chuckles releasing from them.

"I don't know—just get rid of him."

DEFLOWER.                          authors note

well i wrote two chapters in ONE day simply because i have exams coming up and i fully want to focus on them—i'm pre-writing so i hope i can at least write three more chaps before the exams start (to my readers who are going through them, too, good luck!! you'll do great!!! i believe in you). anyway, hope you liked this chapter,,, and leave a vote or a comment if you feel like it! :-)