American Beauty// American Psycho.

The American Beauty Would Never Dance For The Psycho Again...

The boy tilted his head to the side, his cheek pressing against the cool window sill. The melodic music began lulling him to sleep. Despite his urges he kept his eyes open, watching the beauty in front of him twirl, the cold from the open window hitting her back, cooling her.

The Altered Boy sighed, looking longingly at her as she continued her ballet, to the boy she wasn't simply dancing, she was expressing what she's made of.

Grace... Beauty... Pain.

That's what the boy had felt as he pulled his neck to the side, getting a large crack.

He watched as she tormented herself to dance, to reach perfection. To become something more than she really is.

But to the boy.. she was already amazing, drenched in sweat she twirled against the hard concrete.

Her flats ratty and torn as she kept her eyes shut as if she didn't feel a thing. Like she was sleeping.

He craved that feeling. He craved being her friend, she seemed like a far away ballerina doll. One he had once found in a box... Beautiful and graceful yet cracked despite her constant form and calm exterior.

She stopped, he instantly ducked down, pressing his back to the brick wall. He laced his fingers in the grass to stop him from making any noise.

He shouldn't have come he should've just moved. It was his warehouse but now it was hers. He was an Altered Boy... He wasn't good enough to become friends with her. That's all he wanted.. New friends. But she was the opposite of who he was. She was beauty.

The sun shined down on the boy, he sat still. He could go in, tell her hello and make a name for himself. For someone to remember him. He didn't.

The Beauty walked towards the window sill, her poise followed her as she opened the window wider, a rush of cool air hit her, the curls escaping from her bun flew in pleasure as she gave an almost disappointed sigh.

Now. Get up. Be somebody.

No.

The Beauty then closed the window, deciding enough was enough. She left.

The Altered Boy automatically felt the lack of her presence as he snuck back into his own home. He let out a long held breath, looking around the warehouse, it was falling apart, the wood decaying and rotting.

His eyes landed on a golden box, it had beautiful silver swirls carved in the gold, a key lying next to it.

He walked towards the box and picked up the key examining it. He knew what was inside of it.

The Altered Boy quickly opened the box, a familiar song began playing as the ballerina twirled. He held his breath stunned by the gift. How did she know!?

He released his breath, a tear rolling down the side of his cheek as he realized..

The American Beauty would never dance for the Psycho again...

~~~~~
Well you made it to the end, good job!

Sorry this was so short! It's supposed to be like a prologue thing!

Thanks for reading! Pece
~ Sel