Smash!

This is my first boyxboy writing EVER, so bear with me. I attempted to make it as original as possible, and as enjoyable as well. I spent a while with character development. Oh, and to ease any confusion, the story takes place in New Jersey, in Monmouth County. If you're from there, you'll be able to easily figure out which town the story takes place in that Foals Neck is based off. (I only switched, like, two letters.)

Enjoy. (::

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PROLOGUE

            There’s a drugstore plastered among the street signs, precisely seated at the edge of the block. It isn’t quite in Foals Neck; instead it gazes among the border with eagerness. That neighborhood has yet to possess the seeming perfection that Foals Neck does, and instead it remains utterly envious. For all towns do, when bordering the utopia buried in darkness. It lies in an area of crime, spread evenly among that district and it alone, and then it fades at the edges. I can’t quite recall what obscured that graced emotion of insecurity slipping up my arms, but I clearly remember what I had desired.

            A measly pack of Swedish Fish.

            Personally, my most sought after delicacy, a sweetness unlike those that rivaled it… and did they truly rival it? For the essence was unbeatable, savored upon the tongue much passed consumption. However, if I gaze backwards towards that fateful day, I wonder what may have been worth such.

            The frigid raindrops pelting the asphalt proved no effect. Tightening the strings of my hood, I shuffled through the doorway. The oh-so-familiar essence of cigarettes and Tic-Tacs brought itself to my nostrils. I strummed my fingers against the aisles, as I proceeded through the domain. My prey loomed among the top shelf, in the third aisle, that containing the multitude of sweets corresponding to American pop-culture. And suffice to say, I’m an American.

            My fingertips, their chipped black polish much due for a repaint, teased with the edges of a particular package of Swedish Fish. One might have mentioned it was peculiar, in the slightest, for a boy like me to be fondling with brightly colored candies, my demeanor clashing without delay. A smirk brought itself evident to my features, and I sighed. Swedish Fish were the beauteous delicacies I’d found comfort in as a child, with all those lonely nights, my sister’s fresh death still thick in the midst.

            Clutching the pouch with raw emotion, the memories dripping through my nerves much like blood, I began my escape from that aisle. Abandon the regret, and dive for the purpose. I reminded myself, a clever reminder in fact. A grin spread across my features in gentle anticipation. That song, the song I was deemed to write. Thus, all I held the humble notion to ever accomplish. I was headed to the park, to perch myself under the roof of the elderly picnic area. I’d shelter myself from the insistent rain, despite the frigid weather, and simply allow myself to consider my next feat.

            Yet, all those thoughts were set blindly aside, with utter violence, at the grasp of reality. “Hey, kid!” A voice shook me from my incompetence, and my head whipped towards its origin. A man stood, perhaps six feet tall, and incredible feat. Then, like so, his lips gently brushed against one another, in the formation of words, at the other end of the aisle. But, I held the humble inability to sense such communication, my mind refusing to function to my whims.

            In sudden comprehension, I twirled relentlessly around, gazing before me, at children huddled against their mothers, the shopkeeper himself being kept neatly in an abrupt corner. In mere confusion, I didn’t even breathe.

            How long has this been going on? My mind whispered, desperately clinging to the only remaining information left behind. In all finality, I was unable to thrust myself into the shadows, like all others. I stood, poised, as his lips brushed again. This time, they brushed in an increasingly violent motion. Blinking twice, I felt myself stuttering.

            Then it occurred.

            I’ve never quite experienced a sensation, in all its utter horror, quite like it. The scorching of iron, drifting through my abdomen, I suppose- the gut-wrenching agony and the sharp intake of breath to follow. My head thrashed backwards, my body mimicking its actions. I was thrust against the wall, the edge of the aisle, leaning against with all support it could possibly offer. Myself, I was unable to grasp.

            On spur of moment, it was no longer the burn forming in the depths of my stomach that fueled the hot tears to leisurely roll down my cheeks. No, it was the loss of control within me, the loss of all possible future in such a moment that seemed so improbable it was painful.

            What on Earth was I to become? Had it punctured vital organs? Was I to die a horrid, youthful death on the cool-tiled floor of the drugstore?

            Did I care?

            My breaths carried an uneven pace; sputtering out vulgarities here and there, with the occasion whimper or moan, or perhaps even a low growl of sorts, only low enough for a trained ear to detect. Without warning, I felt myself slumping to the Earth, my head falling to rest above my chest, my fingers embedded in the knotted fabric of my blood-battered t-shirt. They trembled with the throbbing of the wound, the fear, the lack of restraint; crimson weathered.

            My feat, splayed before me in awkward lengths, twitched relentlessly, my apparent ADHD proving no benefit. My heart thundered against my reluctant rib-cage, shrieking for an escape from the burning hell. I myself held no refusal to disagree with it, wishing for my death now like no other luxury I ever could afford. I had successfully withered away the outside existence- I’d defeated all.

            I welcomed it with open arms.

            And then, abruptly, I was torn from the impending darkness with more violence than the originating bullet. A force, hands, I believe, firmly grasped my shoulders and shook me. My eyes glazed along and without function, struggled blindly to focus. Even so, in all effort, they only succeeded for a single moment before I was welcomed by a less final darkness, a temporary one.

            A face greeted mine in that single second, a pair of eyes that brought my heart to a firm jolt, unlike any other I’d experienced. It was no longer beating from the trauma of the bullet cascading through my abdomen. I no longer held the inefficient fear that clawed from my insides and sent my soul into a rabid spiral. Instead, warmth sufficed. I blinked, unable to understand it.

            Hazel, I noted- a flawless pair indeed, their color transcending through me.

            Like so, following that fatal glance, a brush of blonde faded over those eyes, robbing me of my peace. And he spoke.

            “Calm down, please.”

            Immediately, an essence unlike any other that attempted to rival it, a strengthened British tone sounded through my eardrums. Very, very British, my mind loyally confirmed.

            Finally, darkness- with a pair of arms.

            Around me.