[Reread the warnings as described. If you don't want spoilers and don't care about trigger warnings then don't read this sentence---> TW: violence, blood, gore, abuse, child abuse, drinking, a hooker, boobs, a female character in this sausage fest for a brief moment, a sex, mentions of sexual assault[?], brief needles and medication, also obviously Endigo is nothing like this in real life.] I've never even been in the same country as Endigo. I don't know the dude or any other characters I am using. I saw Skrillex live but that's it. I am only forwarding this ridiculous plot through the whirling universe portal to the finish line of this 2015 story. Don't worry, that will be in a long time. I am just using everyone as characters to propel the narrative so if you think badly of this real people fic's versions of my characters, kindly make a check into your emotional issues.
Deadmau5 got up earlier than usual. His usual waking time was comparatively early already, but he'd really had enough of Ice's hijinks lately. He picked up this week's copy of EDM Producer Weekly that was lying on the table as his morning coffee brewed. 6:30 AM and he got to feel the cold of the night melt off the room and see the sun rise when he looked up from his magazine. He was trying to be as quiet as possible to avoid waking or making anyone alert to his presence. After his light breakfast he was tasked with buying Halloween candy to replenish the house's stock that they had just spent the past few days winging at each other when they least expected it. Seike had been the mastermind of this particular hijink, though one of the more level-headed housemates, he had used this juvenile strategy one day when he wanted to get Skril's attention as he was playing a round of Guitar Hero with his ex-Mau5. Joel smiled at the thought, but did not even snort for fear of breaking his peaceful and quiet morning.
He took his jacket and spookiest pair of Chuck Taylor All-Stars, grabbing a hat at the last minute to put under his helmet in case the Halloween wind decided to scare his head too. Passing the Disgusting Rabbit room he eyed the carpet, a thousand times dingy from the parties and alcoholism that had littered the room throughout the time they had lived in the house. Mud from the bike storage made the hairs stand up. Ghosts of old, decrepit leaves laid dramatically in an eternal crumple underneath the tyres, pushed to the side. It was a tribute to the purpose of a room in the house. Such structures were forbidden to exit the strict boundaries of play and togetherness, which existed here only in "fooling around." It was both sexual and a web of mind games. It left someone like him breathless as to how he had gotten roped into such a reality show of a life. His everyday dislike had become his world. He hated it and shut the door, pushing the thought like the ghosted leaves.
Another thing drifting around the house was wakefulness, and Skrillex's eyes had opened hours after Deadmau5's. The sunlight lit the sprinkles of dust running down his first vision of the day, yet the myopic creature did not want to see them. His only conscious thought was of a dream of marrying Ice as he was wearing a long white dress, Isen's own costume being a black Bugs Bunny-style opera suit. The tails on it had been longer than any Du-rag Skrillex had seen, the wonder of which would usually have been readily shared with his usual bedmate upon his wake, whether Isen wanted to wake up at that time or not. Immediacy was the way the couple showed their love for each other, and it had soured Sonny's mood to find that Isen wasn't even in the room. He had been out late going to the IMVU store to pick up something special for his boyfriend, upon coming home he was so concerned about the others' sleep that he didn't turn any lights on. When he hit the sack he fell asleep so quickly that he didn't see where Isen was or whether ze was even in the room.
Sonny walked the tiers of the house to find his boyfriend, in hopes of sharing the dream upon hir waking. He rubbed his eye underneath his glasses, a blanket dragging on the floor in his other hand. He lazily walked the the edges of the rooms one by one. Joel's was empty. Pieces of Seike's work-in-progress Halloween costume were strung over his sleeping form. Kitcha had his arms around nothing, as if a person had vanished in his care. From the doorway of the next room socks were dragging down the corridor, making Sonny watch with interest. His quizzical stare caught what they were tailing; a human being. Recognizable legs had pyjamas still on them though they sagged from the friction of the carpet, still asleep. A teenage belly button was exposed, a sight ze would seldom show, hir cheap box-store children's section polyester shark-print shirt was pulled all the way up past a point it would ever be, all the way above the midpoint of hir naked chest, and had hir sleeping face come awake it all would have been covered immediately. By the arms Isen was strung up like a woozy underage prostitute, an unappealing sight to Sonny, who would have gone to the ends of the earth to protect hir decency. His young prince had been reduced to a cheap, disrobed slab of meat, parts on display Sonny had never seen before; nothing like the shining virgin figure of a youth he knew. He became too shocked to bear what he was seeing and ducked behind a corner. The daylight did not deserve to lay eyes on or illuminate such a putrid image to anyone.
He kept a hand over his mouth to muffle his hyperventilation to whoever was with Isen. He needed to make a plan. He had to creep up to the attacker. Unsure, Sonny looked back past the corner for a clue to his next move. He was confused when he caught a glimpse of who was dragging Ice away. A large, pale hand cuffed both wrists of the demiboy and continued to drag over to Endigo's room.
"STOP, THEIF!" Sonny yelled. He wasn't even sure what he was supposed to say in the case of stealing a person. "PERSON THEIF!"
Endigo turned around, the earlye morning and late night break in time still bright on his face. His eyes were wide open and their outline was not unlike trendy tiktok makeup, which gave Sonny a chill through his spine as Endigo looked sleepless and angry. His very image of a 6+ feet man with shadows of natural eye bags and general face scrapings was a threat.
Sonny froze, unsure of whether he should stop and allow Endigo to drag Isen around or continue and possibly get hit in the face. "What are you doing?" He simply asked.
"I saw Isen," Endigo said with wide eyes, a demon of restlessness consuming him. Somehow his hair while lacking spikes was a lot more unnerving and threatening. "In Kitcha's room." Every word was a whisper, evenly harsh. "Arms around Isen, sleeping SO silently, with MY boyfriend. I knew there was a reason I couldn't get to sleep. Kitcha told me he was in the Disgusting Rabbit room for the night. I thought it was strange!!!" Endigo was getting progressively more Swedish. He postured himself like a cat or a Disney villain and got closer to Sonny, intimidating him. "Now I, am going, to enjoy myself, and get, MY. WAY. FOR ONCE."
Sonny did not want to come at Endigo violently and risk himself while Isen was already at risk under his control. He snuck into Kitcha's empty room, grabbing a large framed photo of BatAAr with the producers of Tekken 7 to hide behind himself. He wasn't going to use the photo to enjoy himself, no. He was sneaking all the way up to Endigo's back, quieting his movements the way he saw Deadmau5 doing when he was trying to avoide Isen while going about his daily routine. He was focusing, hypervigilant of Endigo's every move.
Isen got pulled up by the arms onto the bed, a sock drifting back onto the floor and hir shirt still indecent. Endigo reached his hand into his pants and took out one of those German Christmas child-whipping sticks from before the 1940s. He was able to fit the antique in his pantleg, but that didn't mean it didn't pack a punch. The bed, because Endigo had been feeling more anxious about the messiness of his life lately, was wrapped in used plastic packaging he had taped together himself for such a use. He got a roll of duct tape with his other hand and tore a bright magenta-checkered strip off with his teeth. Like a madman, he placed the long strip over Isen's chest and onto the surrounding area. Skrillex was disgusted as this was truly a breaking point, further worse than any violent act before, because Isen was asleep. A breathlessly long pause was administered after such an already long, suspenseful silence. To ruin Skrillex's opinion of him further, Endigo started whipping Isen with the German child tool.
Ze screamed, as he had woken hir with the beating. Writhing under the tape proved a further and more painful struggle. Ze curled up, hurting, barely able to understand where any of anything was coming from, so ze just stared into the face of Endigo as he continued to whip but generally avoid like a plague the NaeNae. Through the second wave of childwhippings, ze did not squirm.
"YOU ARE A FAST LEARNER, YET NOT NEARLY QUICK ENOUGH TO AVOID LEARNING THE CONSEQUENCES OF TAKING WHAT IS NOT, AND WILL NEVER BE, YOURS!" The man boomed as he stood over hir. It was far too early, Sonny thought, for any of this to be happening. He was sure Seike would awaken at some point because of the yelling, yet the nights recently had been stormy enough to make anyone a deep sleeper. In fact, even now the morning light had been patchy enough to not light every room. Sonny was frozen once more, yet knew that Isen would soon notice him in the doorway. Ze started to go completely balls-to-the-wall after realizing fighting back would do no justice to the power currently being inflicted. Ze started flailing wildly on the bed, arms and legs extending in a rapid frequency that was hard to keep up with. Endigo was yelling his threats of what happened if the demiboy did not stop, but Isen wiggled and jerked around on the extremely bouncy bed until ze was cut loose from the tape with a rip and a roar. The scream could be heard all across the house, Sonny was sure of it. The 16 year old faggot vaulted hirself to the edge of the room and clutched hir chest on hir knees. Tape hung on the left side of it, having taken out any hair that existed, even ones from Isen's head that got caught in the struggle. Tears fell to hir lap, and hir eyes darted around the room to various objects of potential danger. Luckily the rage had blinded the violent man from hiding anything useful and Isen was able to find the perfect weapon, one of hir own possesions that shouldn't've even been in the room to begin with. Endigo was yelling again, belittling Isen. He reached out and took the demiboy by hir cheap shirt making it tear in two. He shouted all sort of sexualizing words and was going on about how Isen was never going to look good as a girl and should get hir transition overwith because ze was ugly anyways. "Hopefully then you will LEAVE!!! You STUPID UNWANTED WHORE!!" He screamed, rattling the room. Even within the moment, Isen was stricken with confusion.
Ze threw the pincushion jar lid strikingly hard, sharp side towards the attacker. It drifted through the air with a swift aerodynamic precision Isen would have only dreamed of for such an object, but at the exact moment it striked, Isen witnessed Endigo's angled push towards the ground. His head jerked up towards his back after the pincushion's spines dug in; his front fell downward. His hands also flailed. He crashed in what seemed like a horrendous slow moti0n. Gravity, or the force of God, was surely on Isen's side. A photo frame bounced to the floor, seeming to appear out of nowhere off of Endigo's back. It shattered glass all over him. The sewing jar lid also bounced to the floor, landing on its pinheads. The tall man's hands spread out in front of him, catching the jar lid too late with an impossible jawdrop and eyes the size of saucers. It looked as if he never had eyelids in the first place. His scream was even worse than Isen's. Blood dripped from his face and it was hard to tell if it had splashed back from his hand or was its own wound. It was clear that an amount of tinnitus would take place in the group of witnesses during the rest of the day. The pins shot through his hand at such a velocity that the carpet would never be the same again. He howled, grabbing himself with no amount of language. The glass scattered over the carpet didn't help. Language was not necessary to convey, "help, there is blood pouring out of me!" The tendons of his hand quivered, being somewhat punctured but not violently shaking. His hand muscle ached brightly as it drained and became extensively paler, the only colour being the edges of the several puncture wounds that still were not wrapped. Grasping at himself had brought a ton of glass into and all over Endigo's hand. The wound was still dripping as the victim and bystander wondered whether to help him.
Neither Isen nor Endigo had noticed the real reason for injury; it took Isen a long while to take hir eyes off of the bleeding, fallen giant screaming on the carpet, but when ze did ze realized Skrillex was standing there like a smoking gun, leg still extended, black pants like Death the Kid. He had propelled the kick and photo frame that had ended this torturous event.
Isen was shellshocked. Sonny was walking over as if through warzone dust, at a speed that felt an eternity elapse as the burn on hir chest continued. The whipping marks waned in their cover by the adrenaline between stinging to the core layers of skin, and nonexistence. Ze saw the world as a blank outline with poor rendering, the panel ze was sitting on continued into the rest of the house, the streets, the surrounding neighbourhoods, the forest, and the city limits. Isen took the quickest route possible to the end, bounding down the stairs and through the door with no wasted time, yet somehow with a banana in hand. Ze took in another hard breath after the traumatic experience. It was death. It was life. It was yin and yang poorly stitched together in a bad lesson. It was left and right combined to make something that was never right. Hir legs hurt. Hir chest stung. How could a housemate have done this to another? Ze did not hear hir boyfriend calling after hir.
Kitcha awoke by this time, since the yelling of half a household was equivalent to daylight in the ability to wake someone up. He realized Ice was no longer in his grasp. "Endigo?" Kitcha called, since the coast was clear.
Hearing no answer, Kitcha called again. With a groan, he got up and looked around for Endigo. He figured the man was up making breakfast or writing a new song. He had been expressing lately that he wanted to create something to have an outlet for all his stress. The housemates were getting annoying to him, he explained. The midday air hung low, the Halloween temperature ensuring the rubber bats hanging from the ceiling wouldn't smell up the house. Kitcha wondered if the preferences for Halloween decorations in America were different due to the temperatures, or were they not harsh in this time of year? Only Sonny would know.
"Endigo," Kitcha called as he entered the kitchen. Yet again, no answer.
In Endigo's room Kitcha entered to find his fallen man, blood staining every surface as Endigo wrapped his dripping hand in a fabric scrap he found in the corner of the room. Kitcha stepped back and screamed. His eyes were bouncing all over the room to different spots of blood, then the splattering of glass his boyfriend was kneeling in. Kitcha almost stepped on a shard and looked up to stabilize himself against a dresser. Endigo then looked back at him, and finally showed his bloody smear of a face. Kitcha shrieked mad hard, the third extremely loud noise the house had dealt with today. The walls were starting to get tired. If they could make noise-cancelling headphones big enough for a house, believe that this one would have em by now.
"Baby what HAPPENED??!" Kitcha yelled, missing his footing and falling down onto the carpet. Fear filled his eyes, and Endigo watched him scramble to get up and shake what small amount of glass his visual kei pants could have taken up during his small fall. The amount of fear for such a small possibility of mild injury almost made Endigo laugh from all he had just been through.
"I tried to wipe an n word nose," Endigo explained nonchalantly, as if he had NOT just duct taped Isen to his bed and whipped the yute until ze ran away to an unknown location. "Because I snapped." He whipped his face down into his hands, face turning pink quicker than Kitcha had ever seen before. Endigo started bawling, having already looked awful and scary due to his lack of sleep.
Kitcha threw his arms around Endigo to comfort him, embracing the man without fear for his violent actions. "Baby, it's okay," he whispered as Endigo wailed to him. "It's okay, I'll make sure you'll be alright." He held onto the shivery beast as his sobs shook him.
"I-I don't think what I've done is alright..." Endigo managed. He wasn't even looking at Kitcha anymore, the dark-haired man stared at the wall with no semblance of his previous demonic and hollow look from before. Kitcha was oblivious to that look ever having existed.
"What did you do? It looks like you just got into your own wreck! I thought someone jumped you! You must have done something awful to have someone do this to you..."
Endigo hung his head again, tears starting to form once more.
Even from his position around Endigo's shoulder mostly from his back, Kitcha could see tears falling. "It doesn't matter what you did. Do you feel sorry for it?" Kitcha asked, sympathetic to his boyfriend's inner turmoil. It had been a hard road recently, not that such a thought even had to be a conscious acknowledgement.
"I can't ever take it back."
The pause was thick and heavy between them. Kitcha stood confused with his arms around Endigo, wondering if he even took the question in. "That's not what I was ask-"
"I don't even know what got into me, I don't know why I acted like that!"
With Endigo's permission, Kitcha called up his therapist and explained to him what happened. "Dr. Windows XP, I'm calling you because Endigo just had an episode. Yeah. He's in my arms right now, don't worry I'm keeping him safe. I don't know what happened but he's crying as I hold him and he won't tell me what happened." He left his grasp on Endigo as he had to wave his hands around and make his routine extreme hand gestures as he got more animated. "Whatever it was he's covered in blood and there's glass all over his room floor, everyone else is gone so they didn't tell me either, he looks so sad and beat up right now, and tired, and he's crying all the blood off his face-"
Endigo looked Kitcha in the eye and motioned for the phone with several snaps of his fingers. After far too many, Kitcha stopped staring into space and handed the phone off.
"Yes Dr. J Windows XP, yeah it was just an hour ago but I'm not really sure on the time. I'm alright now, only shocked. No. I did a lot of things I regret and I don't know why I did what I did. My reaction was completely unjustified."
"That's completely alright," Dr. J Windows XP's voice crackled over the phone. "Borderline personality disorder can make you do a lot of things you regret. What's most important is to do what's right afterwards to avoid future regrets."
Endigo's hand passed through his disheveled hair. "I wish I could, but everyone is already gone."
Kitcha, who had been sitting silently with his hands folded in his lap, felt a shiver run through him. It was a normal phrase, but it hit him wrong. Everyone is gone. Were they all dead?
"Gosh, that's got to be hard," Dr. Windows replied. "I'll tell you what, the office isn't busy right now because drop in therapy doesn't start until 12:15, you can come in and tell me everything you want. You can bring your girlfriend if you want, but you don't have to."
"My girlfriend?"
"If you've broken up it's no hassle, bring anyone you please or you can come alone. Happy travels!"
Endigo knitted an eyebrow as he heard his therapist hang up on him. He itched at the last of the last of the dried blood on his face. The red drifted away into the air, falling right back onto his white shirt.
Kitcha watched it flake off like a murderous snowflake. "Girlfriend?"
"Yeah, he thought you were a girl for whatever reason. Anyways, he said the office is open so we could come down there."
Kitcha was unsure due to his gut feelings that something had gone wrong, but decided to come along. He had not done his makeup yet today so was working on that while Endigo had a short but fulfilling breakfast brought to you by his epic friend the blender and a smoothie recipe. Kitcha added an extension to his usual winged eyeliner and a sweep of red lipstick blurring from the insides of his lips outward, as they do in Japan. Girlfriend. Hmm, today it was about to become a look.
They took the bikes to the therapist office and were greeted by Smash again, though in this universe an employed and respected otherkin was nothing to gawk at or especially remember. Same weh/well/wer/wellself nametag, same snappy shoes.
Weh lead the boys in their flashy J-Kei fashions to the returns section of the front desk. "Sign yourselves in on the sheet and I'll have Dr. Windows known you're here!" Wer smile was pleasant and exceeding for a patient weh had not seen in a while, and probably didn't remember either. Wer perfume wafted around in the air, of trees and rosemary. Sweet as a desert cactus.
Kitcha's hands fidgeted, gliding along the bumps of the eggshell-painted walls. It was a comforting texture, in a bright yet hollow orange colour not unlike a F.lux-modified white screen after midnight. He was nervous, not just about Endigo but also his housemates. He had heard nothing about their wellbeing since the night before.
Minute after minute, the office was quiet except the answering of calls. An oddly high amount of people wanted therapy before 12:15. Smash the little person and all the rest of the colourfully-dressed front desk staff got to remind over and over that everyone calling would have to wait.
"Mr. Windows will see you now," Smash announced peeking over the desk.
Kitcha could not help but be focusing on a piece of newspaper, crumpled as if it had once been in a ball, stapled to the wall behind well, with a long green stem of painted newspaper strips as if it was supposed to be a flower. All of a sudden the doctor was in front of it.
"Hello, I am Dr. J Windows XP." The tall man smiled, his dreadlocks pinker than ever.
Let's get this over with, Kitcha thought.
Dr. Windows XP slinked back to his office with them, his dark robe trailing behind, a sight you'd never see past Halloween in Universe A. Thankfully this was still the season so even if he were transported he'd be fine.
The hallway was littered with classy yet spooky Halloween decorations that had clearly been used for many years. They were old plastic window clings stuck to the walls with masking tape, and the many creases told decades of stories.
Endigo sat down on the chaise lounge, Kitcha went to the chair next to it. They both suddenly felt the sobering weight of the occasion. This should not be read to mean they were scared by the Halloween decorations.
Endigo looked at the door, then at Dr. Windows XP, not knowing which of them would help him out of this trying mental time better. Kitcha stared into the floor tiles, shifting around wondering what kind of destructive acts Endigo had done, and most of all, would they even be on speaking terms after he told everything?
Dr. J Windows XP smiled to the both of them. "I'm glad to see you two today." He sat down on his black folding chair. JK he has an office chair, lmao could you imagine? "I heard endigo did something bad lately?" Dr. Windows XP questioned to warm them up. "Thankfully your lovely girlfriend Kitcha was there to comfort you during this trying time." He flashed a smile Kitch's way.
The "girlfriend" himself blushed looking at the floor tiles again, imagining the shoes on them being those of a 1940s housewife. It was a strange thought, something Kitcha hadn't imagined since childhood. Wouldn't it be so strange to have Endigo come home to him with a 4-course meal? The hairdos back then weren't bad either. They would have been fun to try out. In a couple seasons it would be spring and Kitcha would get to see the flowers pop up, baby animals, and of course, Easter egg hunts. Among other wholesome spring activities, it was always nice to see the wash of pastel Easter dresses coming and going all over the city. Perhaps, just for the meme, Kitcha would wear an Easter dress this year too.
Endigo looked to his purple-haired boyfriend, knowing nothing about Kitcha's 1940s and modern Easter wholesome dream world. Why didn't he say anything about the 'girlfriend' bit? It was an era when if you vaguely mentioned you were a shapeshifting girldogcat and kin with a mysterious Nigerian prince it would surely be written down somewhere to uphold the respect of your beliefs and make sure they were only given constructive criticism by friends. The criticism of fellow people was never something tolerated in this city, to the point it was sometimes hard to speak to anyone upon first meeting them. There was an extensive list of topics that were deemed 'unsafe,' no joke, and every year it was updated and people were encouraged to read it again. It was an awful way to live, but the human spirit was resilient enough to make ridiculous circumstances livable.
Endigo raised an eyebrow at Kitcha, mouthing "what gives?" as a chaste kiss to the air and a cheek twitch.
"Don't matter," Kitcha mouthed back, almost subtly enough that it passed as chewing gum. He turned his body completely in to his boyfriend and wrapped an arm around him to rub his back. "I'm here for you," he said. He was clearly not interested in the semantics of gender when his nerves were killing him not knowing what possibly illegal act had been committed in his own home.
"Wanna tell your story?" Dr. Windows XP politely asked, leaning in.
Endigo looked down at his knees before opening his mouth. "Yes, I caught Kitcha with our housemate Ice." He hunched over in the chair. He looked like a man who was stuck in the freezing cold. He was just about to begin shivering from telling this humiliating story.
Kitcha went wide eyed. He had no idea this was started by him.
"Oh," Dr. Windows tilted his head with a knit of his eyebrows and a fold of his hands.
"They were snuggling and I lost it, I dragged Ice out of the bed by hir feet, across the carpet in the morning today..."
Kitcha froze, grimacing. He felt even more guilt knowing he should have woken up to stop this.
"You must have been really upset."
"I took... I took hir to my room and tied hir up while ze was still asleep, to the bed..." Endigo put his face in his hands. "You know those old German child whipping sticks?"
Something inside Kitcha broke as Endigo recounted with great difficulty the assault he had committed on the household minor. He sat there, staring into the space beyond the eggshell painted wall of the therapy office. Really Kitcha was staring into the confines of his own mind. He felt like he was transcending through time and space. What did it all mean? Was Endigo any good for Kitcha? Was he a good man? Were either of them doing the right thing if they stayed together, or was Kitcha endangering himself? Kitcha never saw himself agreeing to be in the same room as an assaulter of children, no matter their age. A twitch ran through his legs, which he crossed to hide it.
Endigo was crying retelling his story, and though it greatly upset Kitcha to a degree he would never show, Dr. J Windows XP responded as if the degree of cruelty had never been spoken.
Endigo's eyes scanned the desk for something to get his quickly spiralling mind off of his previous actions. He found what was the worst possible thing he could see during this moment: a photo, framed, of his therapist with his arms around 2 children, and in the next photo they were now teens. Dr. Windows had surely seen these children grow to become teenagers and faced opposition with those who threatened harm against them. He knew, as he had seen in his own parents, how hard it was to allow a teenager independence into an uncaring world. Ice had come to a different living situation, part time with hir favourite Youtubers and musicians, and expected to be safe. Ze had created an entirely different world to play around in and live freely, and Endigo had duct taped the yute to the bed and whipped hir until he had to get a photo frame smashed over him.
"This is not what i should have done," Endigo admitted. He could not look Windows XP in the eye, not now or seemingly ever again. "I did something wrong. I shouldn't've beat the crap out of the teenager Kitcha was cuddling with."
"We all have feelings," Dr. Windows responded. "Sometimes it is best to admit they are released wrong."
"I don't even know where Ice is now, I kind of blacked out after a point." He resigned again to his hands, hunched over like a modern teenager, of which his housemates probably now believed he was capable of assaulting repeatedly.
"Is there anything you can do now to start making up for it?"
"Not go tripping on Xanax or make Ice too comfortable around my lovers."
Dr. Windows XP appeared truly shocked by this one. "Oh?" Endigo could tell that this was a story like no other his therapist had heard. ...At least in a while.
"The night before I committed several types of assault and bodily harm against Ice I had been taking xanax, then Ice came into the room and played with my hair a ton, tried to get really gay with me but I was so xanned out I allowed it to happen."
Kitcha was confused, but nobody was looking at him so they didn't notice. He was completely unaware of any history of Endigo doing drugs other than weed or alcohol.
"Do you take xanax often?"
"No, I started a couple days ago when I got more concerned with Kitcha and Ice's relationship."
"Had they been romantic before that point?"
"Yes, Ice had always flirted with Kitcha but it had never gone far enough that they were in each other's beds, Ice was never allowed to kiss Kitcha, in fact if I had known I would have been extremely angry. Well... I became extremely angry." Endigo's gaze, which had drifted off to a skeleton bear drawing on Dr. Windows' desk, floated far away from the man as if on a fast current. "I tripped on xans to numb the pain... because everyone I've ever been with cheats on me." He fidgeted with a frayed edge on his black V-kei pants, which had seen many a concert yet had never brought him the true attention he had seeked. "I... also allowed Ice to do it because-"
Kitcha flew into an intense coughing fit. He doubled over, elbow firmly pressed to his mouth. Outlined eyes closing and opening. Endigo thought his boyfriend looked quite cute. Apparently not cute enough to avoid cheating on him.
Dr. Windows XP opened his door and asked a nearby assistant for "a water, for the lady."
"...Because Ice is trans, and I figured I'd see if someone from an afab perspective would cheat on me too. It made sense in my mind when I was numb from the xanax..."
The assistant came back with Kitcha's water. He took it and drank it fast. He shifted weirdly in his seat thinking about how a girl would drink water. Did trans girls drink water different than cis girls? It was the only thing that could keep Kitcha's mind off of Endigo's crimes. It was comforting to think of the demure movements of a woman instead of the violent actions of a 6+ foot tall man towards a sleeping 16 year old.
Dr. Windows XP leaned in. "So you were experimenting outside your relationship to see if an afab individual would have the same respect for your relationship than a male one?"
"Yes," Endigo replied, pulling his head up from his awful posture towards the floor.
"Did you consider that Ice was one of the parties involved in Kitcha's cheating on you?"
"Yes, and it hurt me to ...experiment, but it's not like I could go out and find someone immediately who wanted to start a relationship with me, and whatever I found wouldn't've gone far anyways because I was on xanax. I just started acting off my subconscious wishes..."
"Did you ever contemplate having an open relationship?"
"We weren't even in one until KITCHA DECIDED TO!"
The small creature in question went wide-eyed.
"I was having a fantastic time not being cheated on for the 7th time in a row, then all the sudden I look at the time and it's homewrecker o'clock!!!"
Kitcha raised an eyebrow, incredibly embarrassed that Endigo would refer to him that way but not surprised.
"You were never okay with having an open relationship."
"I never wanted it to happen again! Every time previous it was completely out of my control!" Endigo's hands were up and all over the place. "I was so used to this being done to me that I almost wasn't aware I could do anything about it! So said nothing! And lo and behold it continued going on!"
"Sounds like learned helplessness. Were there other times that you rebelled against Kitcha's unfaithfulness?"
"Yes, VERY recently! Yet I was treated like a complete pariah because a very loud teenager lives with us unchecked and without rules against them!"
"What did you say to Kitcha in this instance?"
Kitcha was starting to be mighty uncomfortable right about now. He was being treated as if he wasn't in the room, and it was getting strange.
"I told that one to keep away from Ice and even ate a slinky in front of them both and Sonny, which I did to scare them all, and it worked! I started to wonder whether I was even meant to be in any relationship at all if something that started off being so steady could be torn up by 16 year old! What is my life at this point?"
"Do you think that the living situation could be the main aggrivator of both the treatment of you after your episode and the cheating?"
"Yes, but would anyone cheat on me regardless? Maybe. If I went out with anyone else and lived in a different arrangement I don't know if it would be any different. Maybe I should stop drawing cheaters toward me."
Dr. Windows made a note on his clipboard, several of which had never been noticed by Endigo, only Kitcha. "What was the extent of your intent when you assaulted Ice?"
Kitcha felt tearful for the billionth time.
"It wasn't homicidal. I only wanted to torture Ice. To torture them would be to end-"
Kitcha made the International Sign Language sign for "toilet" and walked out of the room. In the washroom he took a handful of water and wiped it onto the grease of his forehead, wiping it off with the round towel device near the sink. He pulled it again to ensure the used portion of the towel went through the back and cycled through the purple antimicrobial LED. Just because he was upset didn't mean he had to wreak havoc and slime on the rest of the office's washroom users. How could Endigo spoken of him in such a way, in 3rd person to boot without even looking at him once, in front of his therapist? At least someone got the information out of him... He was notoriously hard to get the inner thoughts out of.
Kitcha looked at himself in the mirror, distraught. Was wiping the smudged edges of red lipstick off enough to make his appearance worth Endigo's love, if he had any anymore? Kitcha fixed his once glorious purple hair, which now looked washed out and no longer good enough to write home about. Deciding to get some fresh air, he sojourned down the hallway to the exit. Was it even worth the work of staying together if Endigo had discussed going out with someone else, one cheater in lieu of the original one, in front of Kitcha without discussing it with him? What was the use if Kitcha was already cheating on him. F'n fantastic. Homewrecker o'clock.
There was an alternative medicine shop not far from the building. If Endigo could go tripping on Xanax Kitcha was going to go for an impulse of his own. Kitcha threw open the door and went looking around the purple shelves where the hard stuff was. He was in such a bad mood that on the occasion he left the house he should at least come back with something to trip off of. On the wall he was now closest to he found different bottles of medication ranging from 5-HTP to other depression meds to bottles he didn't recognize nor bother to read. The section he was looking at looked to be the holistic depression medication side of the shelf. He reached out to grab a small 5-HTP bottle as tears clouded his vision. He didn't even look at the instructions or what the medication was exactly. Kitcha had heard of it once in a magazine article and thought the bottle design looked friendly enough. Nothing would ever feel as good as knowing you didn't become a homewrecker, though.
"Wonderful!" The store clerk said upon ringing up the purchase. "You grabbed the best variant of this!"
"That's great," Kitcha replied, wiping some tears away. "Hope it'll make my day better."
"Oh no! I know how it feels to be low!" The cashier, Ellaise, she/her/hers, was a trans woman with brilliant bottle blond hair. It must have been incredibly hard to find. Universe 1 had great feats in society and the government, but when it came to blonde hair dye it was extremely unpopular so it was never that good. The natural look, as well as so-called "reverse" or "antigender" nobinary fashion, was all the rage. "Do you know how to inject it?"
"N-no," Kitcha answered, confused. The brief article he had read never mentioned injecting the substance. The store did have a good selection, and if injection was what Kitcha had mistakenly chosen he figured he would have to stick to it.
"I always went to the clinic when I started it, I was so scared," Ellaise explained. She gestured Kitcha to come out to the back door with her and asked an employee on break to run the register. Pulling a needle from her purse she went on about her first experiences with her new happiness and the method to stick it in. Kitcha felt impulsive enough to actually let a stranger inject him with a new drug, since he didn't think that by the time he got home he would have the guts to go through with it. Ellaise instructed him to pull his pants down on one side to let her shoot the needle into the top of his butt.
"Wow, that hardly even hurt," Kitcha said, already starting to feel better. Ellaise's positive outlook was infectious.
"I wish you luck, Milani!" She called as Kitcha waved goodbye.
Milani? It all clicked in Kitcha's head. So this was why Dr. Windows had thought Kitcha was a girl. Kitcha felt like he had finally cracked the code. He felt happy for the first time today. He threw the medication bottle into his pocket. Hopefully it would make Halloween better in a few days. He returned from his "bathroom break" to the therapy session, looking a lot happier and confident after getting to escape the hell that was this experience.
Endigo had suddenly changed his tune once Kitcha walked in and was now asking Dr. Windows XP how the couple could stay together when his voice outside the door had sounded somber and hopeless.
"What did you see work well in other relationships around you to make togetherness happen?"
"Uhh, Sonny and Joel used to do a lot together, they would go to events as a couple and watch Water World over and over under a blanket, sometimes they played Guitar Hero."
"Sounds great. I fricking love Water World!" Dr. Windows XP seemed extremely jazzed about the solutions.
While Kitcha appreciated Dr. Windows' glee about the movie, he wanted to roll his eyes so bad. How could a failing relationship find togetherness in such a loveless home? In fact, even before Kitcha had been daintily awaken by Endigo's crimes it hadn't been going ticketty boo.
Meanwhile, in the Babe House...
"Is it bad I don't know where Ice went?" Sonny asked after he had breakfast. He figured Ice wouldn't go far or for too long. He had been afraid of the distance ever since his watch ticked past the hour.
"It's bad that you two know where each other are at any given time," Joel said as he brought in the new candy box, eyes shifting away to the more interesting situation of tearing the glued wings from the miniature waxed cardboard boxes the candy was individually packaged in. "You have to leave each other alone once in a while."
Sonny's eyebrows knitted and his shoulders slumped as he continued to listen to Joel. He guessed he didn't care that Ice had been gone for over an hour in hir pyjamas in the city.
"You know," The older man theorized, chewing on the nougaty creation. "It's worse that you two aren't spending much time outside the house because while Ice is smart enough to return to the house before too long, I'm not even sure ze would know where it was in relation to other neighbourhoods."
Sonny put his hands over his face, looking like he was about to pull his hair out.
Joel looked straight at his worried ex. "Obviously you're going to disagree with me just out of spite. You should really start thinking a little more logically. This house is a promiscuous dumpster fire, everyone gets more aggravated the more they stay inside, and you spend every waking moment with a teenager. Go out and find hir, baby hir, or don't. I'm not sure your ambivalent self needs any convincing from me, I'll do nothing but confuse you."
"Why've you gotta make this so heavy all of a sudden..." The sweet but now dejected musician cowered, unsure of how to handle the barrage of insults. It had him wanting to break down. Sonny did not want to lose his boyfriend, nor anyone in the Babe House during the time it took to find hir. It was a ton of stress and he already had no clue what to do. "I don't think I'll be asking you next time." He shuffled lightly in the way a middle aged mum in cheap leggings would, off to find the dog or to open a vodka soda.
Watching Sonny leave the kitchen even more broken-hearted than he was when he went in made Joel feel increasingly bad, yet he had only recently realized how intensely flawed the entire house was. With that emerged a growing mental list of reasons that would have led he and Sonny to have broken up at some point anyways. He figured he was slowly coming to terms with being better off broken up, yet the pain of their breakup still stung. It felt like he wouldn't have much left if he let go of Sonny, but he knew this pessimistic viewpoint would someday prove untrue.
Sonny walked back around to the hallway to collect his thoughts, and his possessions in the event that he went out to go find Ice. He saw Seike walking past, his baby hairs wet and his face freshly washed.
"God morgon Sonny, kommer du till köket med mig?"
"Ja, jag kommer faktist med dig," and so they headed to the kitchen. In their time together Seike had taught his boyfriend intermediate Swedish, and he had picked it up surprisingly quickly.
Seike patted him on the back, enjoying the bond they had together through the language. Ice had also picked up some Swedish, but Seike tried to completely avoid speaking it when around hir because all ze ever wanted to talk about was children, sandwiches, socks, (all the funniest words in the language) and of course, the characteristics about the men ze found attractive that set them aside from others. Seike had lived too many years to continue to listen to "jag ater an smorgas i helvete med barnet som har sett en man med långt hår, åh nej, smörgåsen ar i brand!" and so forth. It was easier to never speak his mother tongue around the teenager.
"How was your morning so far?" the American asked the Swede.
Seike leaned back on the counter with a piece of gouda that seemed to have been produced from either thin air or his pocket. "I was testing out my earplugs last night so that's why I got up late. I hadn't ever used them until now, so why not? I didn't take them out till I washed my face; it was really peaceful! How about you?"
Skrillex sighed. "You don't even wanna know, I'll tell you later."
"Was Joel bothering you about something?"
"Maybe." Sonny shrugged his body towards the floor and looked out the window to shield Seike from the tears falling from his other eye.
"What a jerk. I can't believe he is still upset about your guys' breakup. He reallly doesn't like seeing you with other guys, eh?" Seike had sometimes picked up the Canadian housemates' speech and accent. It was a multicultural house, after all. "Well, too bad he lives here." He chuckled hard at his own joke, looking at his boyfriend in such a state of laughter as if he had not yet heard that a teenager was just assaulted in the home by one of his friends, who now had cherry-coloured gauze wrapped around his hand. Poor innocent soul. Sonny did not want to explain a story that Endigo would inevitably tell, and in his mind Ice was getting farther away by the second. He drummed his short nails on the counter, looking out at the almost stormy weather which made him dread, yet gave more importance to, the journey to his boyfriend.
"I feel like I should go get oat milk." He squirmed in his position. He really should be gone now or Ice would be gone forever. He could not bear to live in this uncertain moment and felt as if his body was being set on fire.
Seike, thinking Skril's nervous disposition was the product of the weather, told him that there was enough.
Sonny, running his hand over the bend of his other arm, looked at the floor and made up on the spot that it was "a different type of oat milk" and that "you'll see later," flashing a fake naughty smile at Seike.
"Ohh, alright!!" Seike's face lit up. He slapped his man on the shoulder again, other hand feeling his waist. "Just to spite Joel! Well I hope he hears it through the walls tonight while he's playing another round of drunken Guitar Hero with a baked teenager!" This made Skrillex shift awkwardly, unsure of whether to laugh at the harsh diss, so he just swept back his bangs over his glasses like a pretty 2012 girl. He hoped to look effortless rather than anxious, but he really had to be going.
"You know, I feel like he fancies himself on top of the world while he doesn't even work that hard for it." All of Seike's piercings shifted as his mouth pulled open to lay more insults and hyperboles that Sonny no longer cared about right in front of him. He had no more care for the conversation and was biding his time till his time would stop being wasted.
"I was discussing advertisement of Die/May with them 2 weeks ago for 4 hours. We ended up buying 5 billboards and a few different bench ads, we ended up emailing the head of EDM Producer Magazine who said he could give us a spot!"
Does this conversation have an end?? Skrillex feigned a laugh. He really wished he didn't put more pressure on himself to bring on a sexy time after he had gone to look for Ice. Stupid! He wished he was out of there so he didn't have to pretend he was up for some stupid sexy act while his young af boyfriend was running away, never mind his feelings about Joel!
"I'll bet he hasn't even read our article yet," Seike continued on. "Even though it's been sitting on the table for a while. The poser can't even write music most of the time let alone read about it... You don't deserve to take anything from that man, let alone horizontal refreshment!"
Sonny sighed breathlessly as his eyes watched the ceiling through his thick-rimmed glasses. He hated pretending he was still listening.
"You have me for that, and you know you'll be getting it later!" Before Skrillex could even put together what Seike had said, he had been slapped on the butt and wished good luck shopping.
"Thanks, baby," he said, oblivious. Continuing the sexy act that made him want to vomit. It was a ridiculous snap choice of words he should have never made. He was acting like a teenager. He wished he didn't have to search for one, especially after Joel had devalued the idea of their time together. His mind was heavy and enraged by Deadmau5's lack of action while he judged others. He was sick of the fights and tension and wished he could just have a regular, sweet relationship.
He threw a full meal into his backpack.
At least he had Seike to take away some of the stress later, though he predicted by the time he had found Isen there would be a lot of comforting to do.
The musician was so tired of this endlessly stressful day.
Once Ice was found ze would surely have a ton to say about Endigo and anyone else who had recently caused any household arguments. It was going to be a needlessly complicated day and his sensitive heart was not ready. He sure as HELL wasn't ready for the possibility of Joel to start drinking through this whole ordeal, so after packing his backpack full of food, he stole Joel's stupid liquor bottle and started the electric car.
Downtown was jumping. Cars flew by at a mad speed from the opposite direction while Sonny's lane was caught in the traffic of several funerals. A recent protest from the extreme left had ended badly when one threatened the others with a gun. They had all been concealed carrying and shot the entirety of the group dead. They were extremely angry even before pulling out the guns, as the left had started to be recently.
This traffic was the last thing Sonny needed, he thought as the wind rolled over the smooth grooves in the outside of the car, shaking it. It was the same wind that would be rattling his young boyfriend's bones out on the road, wherever ze was. He had the entire city to search, and this easy task, he now realized, was on some solid noise.
The far away lights had Sonny even more anxious. Maxed out on Distraction by Corners was playing on the radio, and that had his heart pumping and his eyes looking for a way out. He saw a break in traffic and instead of moving up, he broke out and skrrted the other way, pushing rubber to asphalt at such a velocity that other patrons of the corpse-carrying traffic looked at him abruptly, not that he would have known. It should be known that Sonny was not the best driver when he was anxious. It should also be known that he was also not good at securing his possessions when other things were on his mind.
The majority of driving done in the house was done on a pleasant night, rotated between any of the eligible 5, often switching drivers if Sonny decided it was a higher priority to keep Ice affectionately satisfied in the back seat. He did not get a lot of driving experience. His abilities on a night like tonight had more than slipped.
The liquor bottle fell out of the cupholder, a place someone in their right mind would have never put it, and conked Skrillex on the knee prompting a yell, but not a brake. He bent down to grab it, swerving down a side street and into someone's driveway. By the time his head was up he realized he had just barely avoided hitting the resident's motorhome, and peeled out quickly to circle around the neighbourhood on another route to downtown. The bottle still in his hand, cap loosened, he went to correct it but instead of making it tight his muscle memory of old tours being driven around made him open the bottle and take a large swig, being that he was thirsty.
He braked hard when he realized what he had done, and could only cap the bottle and throw it onto the passenger seat.
Many panicked minutes of looking for Isen downtown had him wishing to relax, and Sonny rolled down the window during his second experience with the traffic he had just gone out of his way to avoid. After a few deep breaths, eyes closed, trying to block out the crazy world outside himself, a dandelion flew in at top velocity, thrown by an angry homeless person who noticed he was not moving after the rest of the cars did, and poor Sonny inhaled it. His eyes opened, scrambling to cough out every petal, pulling the dusty and dry city weed from his throat.
He drove on, however the choking on the pollen that remained was unrelenting and the hand that was not on the wheel groped desperately for a bottle of any kind. Yes, Sonny had forgotten to pack any water source. He picked up the alcohol bottle, his only fix in this poor situation, and frantically washed the pollen down with it. The liquid burned his throat, tears ran from the unpleasant physical sensation and he continued to choke. I'm sure you can imagine that similar things had happened before due to his frequent homosexual actions in what is simply and immaturely deemed the Babe House.
The sexual nature his thoughts went into as the pollen continued to stick had him seeing the homeless people down near the bridge in a different light. Now that the long line of funeral traffic had moved, he could see them better, dressed in their rags and large coats fit for backpackers. All but one was wearing them, a small femme shivering in ragged pants and a stained fast-fashion sweater clearly produced in awful synthetic cloth for a young teenage girl to wear for only a few years and then give away. Sonny saw her hair blow across her face in the harsh wind. The quick gust swept right through her clothes and pushed them hard against her chest. Her nose was a windburnt soft red and her cutting innocent gaze reached through the glass of Sonny's car window. Like a zombie she stood up, muscles trying to stabilize her against the rolling air, and softly trudged through the weather to him. He sweated, wondering what she wanted when the traffic could suddenly dissipate so quickly. She had left her bundle of sticks and assorted trash paper pile behind, gently stepping out of the dirt and various gravel without a regard to her fellow bridgedwellers. They must not have been sympathetic to her state of underdress.
She got up close to the car, her face like a smile though it didn't contort as such since she didn't have one to spare. Sonny rolled down the window, though he feared what a girl, even of such sweet demeanor could get up to.
She spoke first. "You were the only one who looked," her head tilted without a care.
Sonny sat up straight in his electric car, the engine still humming in the lineup. Himself unsure of how to even begin, she didn't say anything either.
The raggedy girl pulled what was left of a jacket hood down, and Sonny noticed that the other hand not clinging onto her hood had been sporting a thumbs up this whole time to the line of traffic. She gave him a smile, and once he reflected it back she walked over to the passenger side and sat down before Sonny even got the chance to think of whether to lock the door. His ansty hand locked it after she was settled in the bucket seat. "Thanks. Now I feel safe."
"How far are you... trying to go tonight?" He sputtered, in disbelief that his simple act of looking at this girl resulted in him picking up a freaking side quest of travelling with a random homeless girl to an unknown destination while he should be finding his lost boyfriend. Was he really this stupid? Or was life really just taking the piss out of him at this point?
The girl shifted in her seat, her clothes no doubt cold and damp, but her face showed a deeper level of discomfort, or rather, disappointment. She perked herself up again to smile widely at Sonny, twisting the air conditioning to hot before she took her sweater off. "100."
He watched the road as the electric cars finally moved, trying to gauge how long a drive of either 100 metres or kilometres would take, or was she simply confirming through verbal Emoji that she wanted to go somewhere?? He wished it was only 100 milimetres, but sadly that was far less than the distance she had walked to his car, and she would have already arrived minutes ago. "So, is that in metres or kilometres?" Sonny asked, turning to look at his new passenger, but then gasped at the real reason she had been shivering on the rock: she had nothing underneath the sweater. "Oh!"
The girl swayed her shoulders, letting her juicy boobs bounce against each other, showing off their supple, soft form. She grinned for him as she did body rolls to the end of the Corners album that the radio station had been having a field day with, from the safety of the vehicle but still in the middle of the traffic. She was no longer frigid from the winds, or at least she was now pretending to be. She stared deep into Sonny's brown eyes and bounced them for him like she was born to kneel naked on a businessman's desk as his only trinket. "Wanna touch?"
Sonny was afraid of the implications of this homeless girl becoming his naked Newton's cradle, easily visible through the car windows, because of how young she had initially looked with her sweater on. "A-aren't you a little young to be doing this??" He stuttered, throwing her sweater back onto her beautiful, exposed chest that he desperately pleaded his eyes to avoid.
"How much do you think is young?" She held the sweater out in a string across the middle of her boobs, displaying as much skin as possible before it was considered pornographic. "I hate to break the illusion..." The girl slapped down her dirty I.D. card recieved from a lower area of her clothing Sonny didn't even dare to look at. Logically he knew it was her pocket, but he was so afraid of what people walking by or in the cars next to him were thinking so far.
He brought himself to look at her I.D.
Below her name, Sweetah Ofwater Rivyrson, was her birth date of 1996. Below this were her pronouns displayed as on any other Universe 1 I.D., she/her, and other details Sonny didn't really care about at this point. All he wished to do was get this girl to stop shaking her naked boobs around in his car, but he didn't know how to say it without being rude. Please put some clothes on? It's possible this would offend her if she were a nudist. The laws of Universe 1 were starting to get preventative of anyone saying anything ever. It was too heavy a litigious society, and Sonny was feeling the pressure of it now.
Sweetah, the brown-haired half-naked goddess of confusion, took back the I.D. pushed towards her. "Just for reference. You're not going to get sued if we both consent."
Skrillex gave a meek and half-hearted smile, placing stray locks of hair behind his ears again. He still had nothing to say. How on Earth was he going to break it to this girl that she still had to put some damn clothes on?
"Now where are we going?"
"I was wondering the same question of you??" He looked obviously confused, but Sweetah didn't seem to catch it.
She smiled and swiped her hair out of her face as if she were the trendiest girl with the longest fake nails, but it was obvious she hadn't felt a fake nail glued down onto her own in quite some time, and that it might be a while since the next time she did.
Skrillex did not see this as an answer, because it was not. "I thought you were here to hitchhike."
"I assumed there was a fee for that!" Sweetah's mouth was wide open, bewildered.
Though she was 19, she still had a much younger feel to the way she acted and moved. Sonny was used to his yute at home as well, since chilling with Ice took up most of his day usually, so it didn't strike him as strange. Due to his royalties, he did not have to produce as much as other musicians in the house. "Don't feel too bad," he advised.
Sweetah's body language was not as crumpled as she figured it would have to be to warrant that response. If she was just a hitchhiker to him, why was he being so polite? He probably wanted something more.
There was a smell on her that was something dusty, despite the wind that she had been in. Sonny realized again the dehydration that had been plaguing him since the beginning of the car ride. Damn it! He felt so shameful for not bringing a bottle of something other than liquor due to his rash decisionmaking... He tried so hard to stifle the cough again, though his throat was dried and it didn't work the way it swallowed when wet. It was getting so hot in the car. He was starting to get hoarse within his long line of small "ahems" to the point he knew Sweetah would notice. He knew she didn't have any water on her, nor did he even want to ask. He reluctantly took another swig of the bottle, and upon holding it up to see how much was gone since he had got into the car he realized that the liquor was stronger than he previously anticipated. Didn't Joel only drink the mid-range stuff? Why was this bottle of near moonshine sitting in his cupboard?? And adding insult to Joel's drinking problem Sonny had just drank a ton from the stolen bottle that was now catching up with him. He felt ridiculous that he had drank this on the road, in the middle of waiting for the funeral traffic to subside, and that he could possibly even add to the brigade by driving in an incapacitated state! What a bad influence he was on Sweetah, whether or not she was in his car for some prostitute business or not!
The cars finally moved, travelling fully away to the funeral service, and Sonny mentally thanked God. He spun his wheels hard and recklessly against the pavement to get quicker into the sidestreets again, specifically an alleyway. He parked the car, turned it off, and put his hands to his head. Sweetah had asked for his service, with the expectation that she would have to take her clothes off for him as well, and he was too drunk to provide it. There were too many regrets for today, and he didn't want another.
"What's wrong?" The girl asked, her voice warm like a baby bird, reminiscent of safety she had previously felt earlier in life. He knew she didn't have it anymore...
"I am too drunk. I am not as safe when I am drunk. I don't want to drive you anywhere because I'm not that good at driving anyways..." He looked up from his hands and hissed, sucking in air as if he was about to cry. "I don't even get enough practice, I shouldn't be driving anyone around in this state of mind let alone you. I'm drinking stolen moonshine from my roommate, and I didn't even bring water with me... I am useless on this journey!"
"My step-uncle did it worse," Sweetah said, not even faltering. There wasn't a hint of absurdity here. She threw her arms around Sonny suddenly.
Within her unpredicted embrace he felt her bare boobs against his shirt, still thinking she must be cold though the car was heated like a loaded handgun. He was now feeling drunk, anticipating getting drunker as time went on if no water was found. He realized he probably didn't have any money for the hot tea that could be bought at any shop he could walk in, and the infrastructure of this area of town was so garbage and left to waste by the city that there were no water fountains either. Why would Sweetah be caught anywhere near to this side of town? Perhaps prostitution could buy all the tea in all this district.
Sweetah began to sing to him to calm him from his insecurities, some old childhood lullaby about the delicate balance between sleep and fear. Her soft arms around his neck were like butter. "Don't be scared, don't be scared, the trees won't get you, don't be scared. Don't be scared, don't be scared, the forest won't get you, you're not scared. The deer won't get you because you're not scared. The dogs won't get you, they are scared. Sacred words in the woods for the fair. Red paint under the eyes and your hair." She hoped she was setting his worries at ease so he could get what he seemed to be wanting from her. After all, she had scarcely gotten in a stranger's car without his own will being imposed.
It felt almost post-apocalyptic. Sonny was starting to feel wavy and her arms felt so good rocking around him. The naked woman pressed her chest against his, rubbing it all over him. "You're good at this," he managed to say, instantly regretting how poorly phrased that was. He did not care for her rack, though it reminded him a little of Isen if ze were to ever allow him access to any of the various testosteron't pieces ze was put together by and endlessly covered up, even sometimes while sleeping. He had always been curious. This is probably the only titty he would grab for years, if ever. The idea of laying hands on the most female attributes of a body he was not likely to ever touch again due to his homosexuality was exciting, whether or not he was with Isen in the future. After all, ze was the only trans guy he saw himself getting with. Also the only teenager he ever thought he'd end up dating, nevertheless in a several year long relationship.
"I like your tattoos. They make you a bad boy!" She was juvenile too. Sonny didn't even know what he thought about her.
"Thanks." He supposed Sweetah didn't know he was drunk, only sad. When Sonny was drunk he tended to shut up too much. There was no way she could know what he was thinking. He wasn't sure what to tell her anyway.
She climbed up onto the driver's seat and put her left hand on his thick thigh. Gentle touches lead to heavy ones, and she reclined the seat with her other hand. The tiny tips of her fingers, like the trichomes of an aged Marijuana plant, touched his skin so gently they must have been tapping along his legs. They left a residue of whatever dust littered her, he was sure, but he didn't care. He was pasty white, and he was watching his entire body being painted by her dust.
Sweetah smiled down at him as she stayed propped up on his lap as if she loved him. Her eyes were narrowed, but he knew it couldn't be true. She probably just recognized him from his artistry or Isen's Youtube videos. She was wearing no clothes but she posed as if she was wearing a little black dress. Polished, a muted grandiosity, yet not whorish.
He wondered how she could maintain the demeanor while nude, but she was no doubt experienced. Her street clothes sat in the back seat, the heat evaporating off them. The two made enough to make up for it.
Sweetah stuck herself onto Sonny like glue and bounced like the best-made vending machine sticky hand you had ever seen, if you had dangled it out the window and flung it harder than ever before. Any semblance of disgust from the heterosexual actions was gone from Sonny the second she stuck onto him.
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