Black Swan | Ghost & König [I] ✓

chapter 30

"Hey, Gory." You turned back around with a mischievous grin, waiting for him to get angry at the old nickname. And he did.

"Ugh, seriously, [Y/N]?" he cried in exasperation, running a hand through his long, dirty blond hair as he sat down on the curb next to you; a flock of black birds sat on a power line ahead. "This again?"

"What?" you laughed.

"You haven't called me that since ninth grade," Kilgore groaned.

"Never too late," you mumbled with a shrug and a smile.

"That name is stupid," he jabbed a finger at you, "and ridiculous. I was right and you know it."

"You were gruesome, that's what you were," you rolled your eyes. "Dracula is fine as it is. Bela Lugosi did a fantastic job. Francis Ford Cappola did too. It was perfect, all things considered."

"It was nineteen-thirty-one!" he argued. "There could have been more blood, more violence, more gore. It was a vampire movie, for Christ's sake."

"And that's why I started calling you 'Gory,'" you pointed out with a triumphant smirk. "Other than the fact it's just fucking hilarious considering your name is 'Kilgore,' I've never seen someone so obsessed with the idea of gore in a movie. They didn't include all that shit for a reason."

"And what reason may that be?"

"Stylistic choice.." you said, feigning intelligence on the matter, but then breaking into a grin.

"Styl- Wha-..." he shook his head in disbelief. "Need I remind you again that it was a vampire movie?"

"Whatever," you said, waving a hand. You then slowly turned your head towards him, inch by inch, before jabbing him in the side, giggling like a little girl. "Gory."

He laughed as you started to tickle him, "St... Stop! Hahaha..! Stop!"

Eventually, you quit, retiring back to your cigarette, the tickle of laughter still remaining in your throat, and the buzz of cheer humming in your stomach. You couldn't wipe the grin from your face. It's like all the worry you had about Kilgore and Simon and you was forgotten about for a moment...

"...[Y/N]?"

...until it wasn't.

"Yeah?" you answered, the anxiety burning like a blue flame in your chest, prickling your nerves, making you twitch. You never really got anxious, it's never something you've really struggled with, or had time to struggle with, but today, it's decided to finally worm its way into your life.

"Can I tell you something?"

"Sure."

"You..." he began, opening his mouth and unfolding his large hands to enunciate the words, "I... You make me feel..."

"What, Kilgore?" you said, your anxiety making you a little impatient.

"You..." he bit on his lip, hard, and then met eyes with you for a split second before looking away, "...I... I can't say it."

"Why?" you asked.

"I'm afraid."

"Why?" you repeated, shaking your head. He's never been afraid to tell you anything. Why now?