CANDY POP SWIRLS IN THE CLOUDY SKY, THE COTTON CLOUDS OF GREY AND WHITE RUN PAST LIKE A TREADMILL ON THE CAR WINDOWS. The same canvas that reflects against Jun's eyes before he steps back to pay Moreau a visit, the rain filled clouds were at the brim of a downpour.
His lips clasped a hair tie; his eyes focused on the dead boy by the corner. Takahashi pulled the upper half of his hair up before getting into business.
A big dark colored tarp, Parker Moreau was dragged and laid stiff on it's plastic surface. At first glance, the giant fabric simply looked like a table cloth to the dark haired boy, it was almost funny.
Two strands of hair brushing against his cheeks, two fingers against a powdery stick of white chalk. The boy draws a sigil on the ground surrounding Parker. A picture he's far too familiar with, he could do it with his eyes closed. The chalk glides onto the wooden floor, as the boy hums a classical tune.
He finally lifts his hands away from the floor, standing back to change his apparatus in hand.
The mild clang of the chalk touching the metal table, it was the only thing that made a sound in the room. Takahashi places it down only to grab onto something else; something Moreau's body was way too familiar to.
A carving knife cleaned days prior to this, the dark haired boy held it with a tight grip in his right hand. Slowly, sliding it off the table top. The tiny echo rings, of two metals brush against each other.
Mellow creaks, as Takahashi's pale bare feet pressures the wooden planks. His footsteps were light as a feather, his heels lift softly; crouching down next to Moreau. He places the knife by his feet.
Pale fingers gently unbuttoning the top few buttons of the dead boy's shirt, tortoise shell buttons sliding out of the fabric slits. That clean button up was going to be bloodied again by Takahashi, and what a shame, he had to do the laundry too.
A palm against Moreau's bare chest. Cold, the boy thought. But he couldn't tell who was colder.
He positions himself into a kneeling seiza before getting hold of his knife again.
The hardness of Parker's chest meets the tip of Takahashi's blade, a pressure light but firm. The black haired boy speaks, looking directly below at Moreau.
"いただきます." ¹
. . .
The engine dies off as Charlie parks his car behind his house, returning after an hour and a half's drive. The soles of his shoes were stained in mud and dirt, as they left a trail all the way back to the back door.
The sound of his keys jingling, the faint sound of tearing skin. They played in unison but Charlie could only hear the former. His keys rattled as he unlocked the door, before the door was pushed open.
Awfully quiet for this household. Charlie brief glance across the house before locking the door behind him. He didn't pay the silence much mind, as he takes off his shoes by the side. He just thought Jun was probably asleep or something, although he should be preparing for ritual while Charlie was gone.
The blonde boy continues with his routine as per usual, putting away his coat and changing into more comfortable clothes.
Jun was not in his bedroom, as Charles noticed when he entered to change. To which he assumed the boy was simply just busy with preparations as he should be.
With that, Charlie didn't bother too much with anything else than to go just as planned. He walks over to the back room without second thought, seemingly to check if Jun was ready with everything he promised.
The heaviness in his heart that lasted for days was beginning to subside, despite still having an inkling of discomfort at the bottom of his heart. Well that didn't matter then, not until he turns that doorknob; not until he opens that door before him.
The sound of the door unlocking seemed to have alerted Takahashi from his endevours himself, his head turning almost immediately towards it, his mouth and teeth stained in colors his Charles would recognize at first glance. But with a juxtaposition of being alerted, he's no where alarmed nor frantic.
And then, finally, the light from the hallway seeps into the apertures of the opened door. It shines almost like a spotlight that sets the stage. Charlie Scott was the audience, and of course, Takahashi Jun was the star of the show.
His line delivered in perfect intonation, a scene; an expression forever etched into Charles' memories. The light against that pale skin, the same pale skin that contrasted with the colored stains across his lips and the collar of his shirt. Dripping, it ran down the boy's neck like a thick drop of honey.
If only blood would taste so sweet as well.
. . .
G L O S S A R Y
¹ いただきます [itadakimasu] - similar to bon appetit, often said before meals as a form of gratitude.
. . .
A U T H O R ' S N O T E
multiple updates for today 'cause i'm feeling a rush of ideas. my homework can wait i guess HAHAHA
hope you'll enjoy today's spam, i might try to finish this entire book today if i'm motivated enough?
lots of sweets,
zen.