Bedless - Vic Fuentes Fanfiction

No Story To Be Told, No Feelings To Be Shared - P/1

A/N I have been really excited to write this and it's finally here, so tell me if it's good/bad and correct me if there are mistakes in this, (grammar, typos, spelling mistakes anything) I'm just to lazy to re-read what I wrote. Don't blame me I put this in the Warnings!!

So, I guess you want to learn about me I suppose. Well, well- where shall I start? Well I guess my childhood would be a good place to start. My parents, who I don't remember, had abused me and then finally abandoned me in an orphanage. It was no different because the bitches at the orphanage had abused me anyway, so that was hell for me. I lived in that hell for 4 years (until I was 6) then I had, had enough... I ran away. To this day I don't regret it. I lived on the streets until I was 11. That's when I found my homies. Instead of explaining, I will just show you a flashback of what happened.

*flashback*

I was skating around to find a nice and hidden, cosy place to practise my  street art. Or graffiti. I hated to use the term 'graffiti' because it just creates the wrong impression. When you say 'Graffiti' it tells you I-am-illegal-and-you-better-run, whereas if you say 'street art' it makes you think of legal shit. Even if it wasn't legal, it wasn't terrible.

I turn to a small alleyway to check it out. This seemed like a cool place, plus a hidden place- with a roof! For some reason, the two buildings share a roof. I don't even know why. I carry on walking and smile. It's perfect. For staying in for a while and for practising my street art. I go by the pseudonym of 'Black Widow' because people think they have the motto of "I will bite you if you bother me." and they aren't that scary really, just misunderstood. Even though, I would never say that aloud.

"Who the fuck are you?" I heard a boy voice, probably my age.

"The question is, who the fuck you are." I spit out. Yeah, I swear. I know how to look after myself and I act grown up, so why not? I'm motherfucking Matilda! Nobody speaks to me the way he just did. I drop my skateboard by my feet and throw my backpack next to a cardboard box (filled with nothing), causing all the spay cans, which were inside the bag, to rattle. All I see is 3 dark silhouettes. One of them, who I assumed was the one who talked to me, move forward a bit. We were about 5 feet away from eachother. Even though I was outnumbered, I didn't give a shit, if these even try to touch me- well, they better pray.

The boy sarcastically laughs. "Stubborn. I like you." When he giggles, he reveals some dimples. He had brown hair, which was a comb-over but spiked upwards, and he had sweet blue eyes. His eyes held hatred, anger and emptiness. Seems like my type of guy. And no, not like a crush. Love gets you hurt, and I can't live with that. His ears have gauges. "Now what do you want?" He asks, more polite-ish.

"I have only came looking for a place to practise my street art. But now something's got in the way; and I usually don't let things get in my way." I look into his sky blue eyes. "I would've punched you right now if you weren't like me." I smile. It was the first time in a long time my smile was a happy one, or a real one rather than a forced one. He giggles half-heartedly.

"Guys come out." He turns to the 2 other lurking shadows, which were gazing at us for the last few minutes. I cross my arms and view these new "ghettos", people call us (again misunderstood we're not ghetto, we're just independent, we don't go around shooting people do we now?). One of them was a girl, and the other was a boy. I could see us being in a gang, I guess. But I'm not going to rely on them. Trust gets you killed.

The girl had a baggy Black Veil Brides T-shirt on, black shorts and ripped tights. She had black converse on, however it looked like she designed them and it now had skulls and spikes on them. Cool. She had black hair, I don't think it was dyed though, I think it was natural. She had grey eyes, which I envy because I had always wanted grey eyes. I have hazel eyes, but I kind of like them; they're sexy as fuck. She had one fishnet glove on, with painted grey nail polish. I wonder how she got nail polish. The boy on the far right, had blue dyed hair that swept to the side. The perfect emo cut. He had large, brown, chocolate eyes, which were also dull and heartless-looking. He wore ripped, black jeans and a grey sweatshirt- which was mid-thigh length. The sweatshirt said "Fuck You." Lovely. He had gauges too, but only on the left ear. I know what you're thinking. Piercings and dyed hair at this age? Well it's not who lets us do this, it's who is gonna stop us!