hellbound; cory | ACKLEY BRIDGE

the BAD, the WORSE, and the CORY WILSON

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if you wanna go to heaven,
you should fuck me tonight
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"thank you."

cory wilson grabbing my arm and spinning me round was not how i intended my walk home from school to go, not that i was complaining.

"for what, mr touchy feely?" i snarked, snatching my hand way from his and instead grabbing his tie. i yanked him forward, so his face was closer to mine, aware that the street was empty and also aware that he was so used to being in control, and i was taking him out of his comfort zone.

"for, uh, jordon," he explained, stuttering in a very un-cory-like way.

i could see the details on his face from this close, the little freckle imprints and the flecks in his eyes. "i thought so," i said sarcastically, before releasing him jokingly and pushing his shoulder. "i'm only playing with ya man, no need to wet yaself," i laughed, carrying on walking before realising the absence of him beside me. "you comin or what?" i called back to him. two brothers in two days, i really must be pretty. joking, joking, don't get the wrong idea.

"for the record, i like your hair," cory complimented, already making himself at home as he swung himself onto my sofa. my father was a fancy businessman, he worked way too many hours a day and sometimes just clocked in at a local hotel for a few nights so not to "bother my studies" so he hadn't been here all week.

"not just trying to get me in bed?" i snorted, opening up my kitchen cupboard for a saucepan. i rifled the fridge for basil, tomatoes, peppers, bacon, garlic, onion and pasata.

"always a plus," he smirked. i rolled my eyes at his antics, pulling out some pasta before using my ingredients to make a sauce. "what ya doin?" he asked.

"i didn't eat lunch," i replied, not noticing him stand up and come toward me. the kitchen and lounge were open plan but i hadn't realised he'd creeped close to me. "would you like some — woah," i jolted as i all of a sudden felt his presence.

"is this a date?"

"hardly as good as the italian up the road," i replied, refocusing on my concoction.

"what about my little italian in this kitchen, cielo?"

i shuddered — no, like a good shudder — as my name rolled off of his tongue so easily. "shut it," i muttered, flicking some sauce from the wooden spoon onto his white shirt, splattering it red.

"oi!"

"you'll have to take your shirt off, wilson," i laughed...not expecting him to actually do it.

now, i know cory relatively well, don't get me wrong. jords was one of my closest friends, as close as he gets with a person, so yeah — i knew his brother too. i did not know his brother had abs like that.

"like what you see?"

"don't act too desperate now, cor," i laughed, taking his shirt from him and shoving it in the wash. i span back around to see where his eyes had been lingering, somewhere further down than the back off my head. "keep it in your pants."

with a tantalising wink, he sat himself at one of the gleaming red spinny island chairs. "you cook for all your guests?"

"try not to flatter yourself, i was halfway to starvation, me."

his hair was caramel chocolate, in a soft wavy quiff on the top of his head. and he was oddly silent for a couple of seconds.

"i never get food like this at home," he said, kind of quiet, like he wasn't sure why he was saying it or if he even should be in the first place. "freezer food an' takeaways and ready meals, us."

"my dad taught me," i said, not particularly sure how to go with this conversation. he was flirting like a mad man two seconds ago. i kept my voice gentle as to not seem like i was judging, because i wasn't, honest. it kind of seemed like this was something that he was opening up about, in a weird way, so i countered it with something i'd not spoken much about. "he used to have a lot more time for me," i murmured.

"hmm?" the brown haired boy hummed, not that he'd not heard me, but i assumed a way of telling me to carry on.

"mums not been around for a while. i dunno, marriage fell apart, marriages do, don't they? so he used to spend a lot of time with me. cooking, days out, you know. he's always at work now. and i know i sound ungrateful, he's doing his best, he's providing for us at least — i just miss him sometimes."

"i really do like the pink hair, cielo, i wasnt just saying it."

"oh. thank you."

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song
young god — halsey
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