When the car door behind him clicked open, and his flower boy stepped out, the boy with murder on his mind turned to take in the scene. His baby was standing there, stunning as ever, in a white cotton button down (that would be so much better decorated with spots of crimson) and khakis. His usual Doc Martens were replaced with scuffed high-top Converse (that crunched satisfyingly on the dirt below them).
"Well don't you look like a law-abiding Christian," he remarked. His dolly's face flushed cotton candy pink again, and it brought a sadistic smirk to the psycho's face (he had the power to make his dolly blush so pretty).
"This is what I always wore to church with Lupe, so I just kind of figured that it would work..." he trailed off.
"Oh it works dolly, it definitely works." Kai flushed again under the double meaning of the psycho's words.
"It's your turn to change you know," the dancer reminded.
"Yeah, I guess I should do that. You know dolly, I don't know what I'd do without you sometimes." He grinned. "I'll be out in a minute."
----
If his outfit worked, Kai thought, what did Sami's do? Because holy shit, the psycho was so goddamn pretty in white. Like the flower boy himself, Sami wore a white button down, except the psycho's was long sleeved. It was untucked over his same black skinny jeans, and he wore the same pair of high-tops that he always did, so worn that they were almost navy rather than the original black. A tie was loosely fastened around the collar of the shirt, and a black blazer was thrown over his shoulder nonchalantly. He looked like a private school kid that pushed the dress code as far as it could go.
"Whatcha starin' at dolly?"
"You look good," Kai breathed in response. "Really good." They sat and stared at each other for a bit longer, sexual tension high. They couldn't be physically affectionate outside here, they both knew that, but they both felt the pull towards one another.
"We should probably walk down to the church, mass starts at five." And so they walked side by side, dirt crunch crunch crunching beneath their feet.
Sami had one hand holding the blazer that was thrown over his shoulder, the other in his pant's pocket tracing the shape of his best friend over and over (he wouldn't let the knife fly fly fly during mass, but he didn't feel safe without him there). Kai, on the other hand, had both hands shoved deep in the pockets of his pants, memories flashing in front of his eyes like a movie (that he really didn't want to see). His bottom lip (even more chapped than before) was between his teeth again, dangerously close to bleeding. Maybe church wasn't a good idea. Why did he say yes again?
"You ready dolly?" And Kai remembered.
"Yeah, 'm ready."
Anything for his pretty little psycho.
YOU ARE READING
SUGAR AND STEEL
Teen FictionIn which a boy as sweet and sickly as cough syrup and cotton candy meets a boy that tastes like Juicy Fruit and cigarettes (and is best friends with a butterfly knife)