ricky's life was perfect (a lie; he was getting by with only almost-decent grades and actively avoiding his borderline stalkerish family, but he was making do). sometimes he dully thought that sure, he was probably walking on eggshells, and sure, everything was likely going to fall apart around him anytime soon and bury him deep, deep underground. but that thing- that one little thing that pushed everything over the edge, that coaxed the boulders to roll down the hill and smash ricky at the bottom- well. he just wasn't expecting it to be his fucking prada underwear. or: ricky finds himself ruined, over and over, by the abnormally large hands of the puppy-like boy with too many stolen stars in his eyes.