Ꮇ𝑦 ℤօｍ𝘣ⅈ𝖊 𝗕օ𝑦𝚏𝔯ⅈ𝖊𝖓꒯ ||Parkster

Vagrancy; Behind Guilty Eyes

When there's nothing left, the shriveled discarded flesh is worn like a bad costume. Their misshapen bodies and extra limbs bulge through the flesh disguise at odd angles, faces deformed by mouths split open, wide enough to devour anything in it's path.

Chester stands infront of a doorway. Shafts of warm light cast rhomboid shapes on the wood floor, illuminating the dust motes in an effervescent glow as they float around in lazy swirls and hang suspended in mid air.

The furniture lay broken and worthless, something Chester can identify with now more than ever.

The rooms are too dark, too demolished to stay in, the sun sinks even further into the horizon. Chester crosses the threshold with a creaking step. A floorboard squeeks above his head on the second floor in response, a litany of dust sprinkles down, glows golden, then fades back into darkness.

A large mass slithers overhead, toward the staircase.

Each step is a choice, a path he could choose to take, tempting. But like a bad dream, he's paralyzed, waiting to wake up in the real world, where everything is back to normal.

A certain someone's awkward shy smile and kind tired eyes flashes before him. Vivid enough to make him weep, but his face remains impassive as he exhales a shuddering breath.

Finally, Chester takes another step closer. His hands tremble and his heartbeat speeds up, entire body now breaking out in a cold sweat.

The thing's reached the staircase. A long shaking arm reaches down several steps, lumpy and shapeless like a mangled rubber hose. A mass of spastic flesh that vaguely resembles a face lowers into view, thrashing wildly from side to side.

Every inch of Chester's skin crawls in alarm to danger, his lungs feel like they can't expand anymore, each breath is choppy and choked as if oxygen doesn't exist. Run every instinct screams. But he can't move.

The ovalesque hole in the creature's face stretches wider than comprehension, an endless black abyss that distorts when the worst noise Chester's ever heard shatters his paralysis.

Chester sprints out the door, hands clamped over his ears, sounds of raw fear escaping with every laboured breath, and he runs until razor-blade pain blooms in his chest and slices the back of his throat, until it's stark black and he can't see where he's going. The buildings are sparsed few and far between until he ends up on a street with perfect mansions on each hill.

The pale face of the moon peeks out from midnight wisps of cloud, bathing everything with a blue shimmery light. The houses stand massive like castles, each one more unique than the last. Chester is hunched over, hacking painfully into the crook of his arm.

Coward, his mind growls over and over as he walks with his head down, fingers aching with how hard they're tightening around his backpack straps.

Chester slows to a halt infront of a dead end and tilts his head up to find a very dark brick house with tall windows, surrounded by a wrought iron fence topped with ornate spikes. It's a bit smaller than the others, and somewhat gothic in style. But sturdy.

Each muscle is a burning ache, signaling his body's exhaustion.

He pushes past the front door and is surprised to find everything untouched. Syrup-smooth hardwood floors, black and lavender wallpaper, intricate carving and curlicue decorated vintage furniture, swathed in luminous leather and velvet cushions.

Dude.. this place rocks. I could totally live here forever!

While looking around with wide appreciative eyes, Chester can't believe what they land on next.

"Oh God.. oh my fucking God.."

Standing there, in a dim corner of the living room is an infected.

His half lidded dark eyes are ringed heavily in shadow, stark against the marble pallor of cinereous flesh. The lower half of his face and hands are black with caked blood.

Chester's fallen to his knees, going back and forth from excitement and fear, to happiness and dread. Tears spring from the corner of his eyes and his chin wobbles, voice wavering as he whispers.

"Parker? Is.. is that you?"

His hope fades quickly when it makes no indication it's heard or even seen him. Unmoving. Unblinking. But it's unmistakably Parker.

Chester feels himself unravel, can almost hear the crystalline sound of glass shatter as his heart breaks, and he thinks something in his soul just died.

He buries his face in his hands and sobs, knowing he's not strong enough to face this. Not alone. Not when there's no one left to pick up the pieces and put him back together.

He's aware of the dangerous situation but doesn't care if Parker kills him.

It's all your fault. It's what you deserve.

The boy startles when a thump reverberates against the floor through the sound of his broken cries.

He looks up uneasily to see Parker sitting on his knees, bloodstained hands resting loosely on dark denim jeans. Disarrayed hair falls into inquisitive eyes as his head tilts slowly to the side, outgrown and curled into dark ringlets.

Chester has the urge to sweep them out of his face but is afraid to reach out.

They stare for a long time, neither moving more than an inch.

Parker's not attacking him..

A feeling stirs deep within the splintered fragments of Chester's being. With a strangled laugh that sounds more like a sob, he realizes what it is.

Hope.

~~~

(Words: 1,597)

A/N
Aaah the feels🤧 I love these two sm and I hope it translates through my writing😭❤️ Please tell me what you think so far~
Tender reprieve up next, then get ready for some angst😋
!!And heed the warnings that are in the description😅!!
In case it's not clear in this chapter- Chester is toying with the idea of suicide (checks the gun for bullets + tries approaching a monster but is taken by fear and chickens out at the last moment)

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