Poison

Friends

It took a lot to not sock the boy in the mouth as he sat across from him in distain. The way his blue eyes seemed glued to the empty plate in front of him like he wasn't there. Ignoring him the way he knew he hated.

His nails dug into his palms as he clenched the fist he imagined sailing out and cracking across his pretty face.

This bastard was on the way to ruin his entire life.

"Enri. If you keep glaring like that, you're going to make your eyes pop out." He glanced up at him through the thick lashes that rimmed his dark eyes. A small, anxious, knot suddenly forming in his chest at that look. He was just as pissed as he was.

"If they do I wouldn't have to look at the fact that your ass broke into my house."

"It was your mom who let me in, idiot."

"But I didn't."

All at once did the boy across from him stand up abruptly. Scaring the everliving shit out of Enri as he nearly fell back from his chair, only narrowly getting saved by the fact that he grabbed his collar from over the table. Dragging him forward so that their faces where inches apart. Pure frustration and anger radiating off of him as Enri swallowed the newly formed lump in his throat.

"When are you going to stop this?" He asked him quietly. His voice calm, but not.

"When you tell me why you did." Enri spat in a flare of emotion. How dare he act like he had the high ground in this. Like he was the one who left him in the fucking dust.

He shoved him with as much strength as he could muster.

"You stopped being my friend." He snarled as he fell on his ass.

That's when his mom came in swinging a wooden spoon with the fury of God.

They both found themselves back in their seats. Rubbing the backs of their heads as she served them both the slices of cake she was trying to fix for them before she left the house. Old birthday cake from the night before. Unsliced because Enri didn't want to touch it.

"You boys play nice. Or I swear from the store I'll beat you both down before you grab each other in anger again."

Enri's mother was a just and virtuous Russian woman who's thick accent both comforted and scared everyone who knew her. She was never fond of church though, ironically, they prohibited her peaceful drinking during the long days and smoking as she cooked, far, far too much. Not to mention, even she admitted their silly rules to be no more than petty excuses to make others feel bad. God was thoughtful, forgiving, and as far as she was concerned, invented her fine vodka for her to drink. Enri was a lot like her, they both seemed to be cut from the same cloth, sharp features, crystalline blue eyes, pale, almost white blond hair, pale, freckled skin that seemed soft to the touch, and a glare that could cut glass. Enri was almost exactly like his mother, really. Except all the more rebellious than she was at that age. She blamed it on the youth.

She blamed it on Enri running tail between his legs away from his best friend.

"Make up or I send you to your ded." She said bitterly. Sending a visible shiver down her son's spine at the mention of his grandfather. She had no real intent of course... But motivation never hurt.

He grumbled something under his breath she was in too much of a hurry to scold him for. Instead as she hurried past the door she wagged her finger at him one more time with that deadpanned glare. "Ded." She reminded, before finally running out the door.

Enri wanted to smack his head into the table again, this time, through the cake his mom learned to make when she first came here. There was something she loved so much about American yellow cake he never understood. Usually he had no complaints. It was delicious. But today it make his stomach turn to look at it. The careful piped frosting reading "day" from where she sliced it.