[✓] dangerous sarcasm → spookyface

CHAPTERTHIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY
WARNING: this chapter has a scene with sexual themes in it. please stay safe. it barely counts as so, but if you need to skip look for the marker.

It was loud. The atmosphere was booming, and stupid teenagers were stranded all around drinking and smoking, many dancing and doing other things to overly loud and trashy music. This was Spooky's favorite environment, surprisingly, because he just liked to hate on people, but let loose at the same time. He wasn't at the center of it all though, he was actually sitting in a bedroom next to his friend as they ate Oreos on the nicely made bed covers. Spooky hadn't grabbed a drink yet, Blurryface was hesitant to let him because someone could have spiked the beer. How was Blurry supposed to know? He didn't know shit about parties. Plus, alcohol was dangerous and he'd seen Spooky drunk before, and he didn't like it.

Blurryface was laughing at something Spooky said, eyes a soft shade unlike the harsh hue they usually were. Spooky Jim wondered what Blurry would look like high.

He guessed that's what eyedrops are for.

The room was dark and the lights were off, so they had little seeing ability, but their ears definitely heard the booming bass in the house around them. No one had disturbed them, the two boys were completely alone. They didn't know where Devotee or Hurricane were, Nicotine or Crimson, or Black Tear. Even Violent Cain for that matter. They doubted that the group even cared for their whereabouts.

"How much you wanna bet Nicotine, Devotee and Violent are getting high right now and going to have a threesome later?" Blurryface snickered in a low voice, cookie in hand.

Spooky's eyes widened, "I never thought about that, oh my God they would, I hate you."

"Damn, I hate myself too!"

They had been here for about three hours now. They were upstairs in a guest bedroom, they had to sneak up together to avoid people questioning them. They kept themselves entertained with conversation, their phones and food. However, they both knew their peace wouldn't last for long. This was about the time during parties where everyone's hormones went batshit crazy mixing in with the alcohol and drugs and whatnot.

The two fell silent, Spooky Jim lolling his head back slightly. "What do we do if some drunk-ass pair tries to get in here and fuck?"

"I dunno man, I suck at that kinda shit."

"Eh, I'll think of something."

They stroked up a conversation about music when Blurry eyed a keyboard in the corner of the room. Spooky saw the brunet looking and asked, which lead them to start talking about things like that. Turns out Spooky drummed on his spare time. ("It's a stress reliever, like whatever you do, y'know?")

"What do you do with the things you...y'know...write?"

"I don't really know," Blurry shrugged. "I guess I sing them. Rap. Whatever."

Spooky smiled. "Interesting. Will I ever get to hear any of this?"

Blurry shook his head. "Hell no. It's shit anyways, you wouldn't want to hear it."

"I bet it isn't shit."

"I bet it is."

Spooky rolled his eyes.