I Put Way Too Much Work Into This

4

Vermilion hair bestowed the boy, complimenting the freckles that dotted his cheeks and nose.

His father had been an experimentalist, with much power, but now he was gone, not of his son's dismay.

He'd been handed down a gigantic home of land and also of meaning.

The boy, in perfectly crafted clothes, had kept stock of the place.

But the son, who held the universe in his own hands, would never be ready for the eccentric personality soon to come.

The other boy, unsightly as ever, had never been to the abyss he was currently in and it sent tingles down his spine and throughout his body. Well, now that he thought about it, that could be the lack of oxygen.

He was out, he knew, and yet, why did the purple still blotch his face. If it really was them, he thought they would take care of it for him.

The boy of purple and white (or as they said he looked), Jeremiah, knew they would implement him back into his grasp, and that would not be something of ever a good meaning.

Beta Centauri was shining as bright as ever, of course never dimming. Never to relate to the feelings of the boy with bed-head and frivolous clothes, and still the purple (always the purple).

The cavern they entered had bright lights, not as bright as Beta Centauri, but still bright. And yet they wouldn't be soon, and Jeremiah dreaded that.

The boy's hair, bright red, like his irises, stood at the entrance to the masquerade; he stood still, but inside he was ecstatic, filled with anticipation.

The heir of the experimentalist was dashing, making anyone at the party swoon.

The troublesome Jeremiah, wouldn't ever fall for that. And even if he did it would never work with the looming shadow that haunted and drained him of his very essence.

One last boy entered the stage, one who would tear all of these people down, and for them to return would be a crime in the utopia of heavens.

Utopia... A utopia in which the world would be all of his, and all that he needed was that disgusting... thing.

The man with short black hair, and mesmerizing eyes knew that he would get vivisections due to his usage of him.

But the cutthroat insults and constant whining would all be worth it, as his halo would be broken, shattered in a million pieces, whilst everyone else's would increase in size, tenfold.

Jeremiah was in disarray, he despised being chained to this future, but he knew nothing of how to stop it and it could possibly, just maybe, be better than where he was as of now.

The boy of red hair, freckles still dotting his face and the serious demeanor still exposed, for now, fell towards once of the chairs, not being able to stand at the mere sight of the being towering in front of him.

That was perfection, and that perfection would soon enough spread to everywhere else of this puny little galaxy.'