Twin Fantasy
My Boy
noel
i wanna be your dog
The weather was bad. It was just the right time of year for piss-poor weather. Noel liked weather that looked how he felt. It was poetic, it was clever. A little cheeky, even, like God was playing games or something.
After emerging from his home, he was greeted by some number of cops in the road. He ignored them, as was his right and his sworn duty. If he couldn't start fights with the police, then he might as well just ignore them, and they too would ignore him. He was a relatively unassuming lad anyway. A chin with not even a bit of chin stubble and a mop-top haircut of swaying, strawberry blonde locks that made him still look like a boy from certain angles. Even the wispy first growths of a mustache weren't quite enough to convince some, so every now and then he'd have to pull out his ID at a bar.
Money had been tight. Always was. Being in a gang is oddly like being a fish, if every fish had more than one human person inside of it. Right? The biggest fish has the most people, and that fish takes up all the good resources and eats up the littlest fish, and the sort of mid-sized fish had to eat shit and die on their own. That was where he was, more or less, that pissing Joplin bratva controlled almost everything. Why they hadn't just killed the De La Vegas at this point was a mystery.
(Not that Noel wanted them to. Then he'd be really fucked.)
So he woke up hungry, and the only thing in the fridge was a can of relish. Noel was living like the bugger from Fight Club. All condiments, no food. And now he was out, debating on how much he could spend on groceries. You'd think everything in Joplin would be cheap to match up to its clientele, but not so. The way some of these places charged, you'd think they were posted up in Seattle.
He popped into the local convenience store. Run by some nice immigrant family, though Noel had never bothered to ask where they immigrated from. A country, probably.
"Five dollars for an ice cream slider? You've got to be fucking kiddin' me."
"Sorry." The girl at the register shrugged -- no older than 16, and clearly already tired of working this dead-end job.
"It was three last week, and that was still way too much."
"Sorry, man." She loudly popped her gum. "You gonna buy it, or are you gonna keep complaining?" Noel silently debated whether or not a singular ice cream slider was worth almost as much as a Starbucks pissaccino or whatever. He decided against it.
Hunger gnawed at him, but he didn't dare call Avi up for another loan. That was his boss, not a goddamn bank teller. Plus, the rest of the gang probably wouldn't take too kindly to it. Noel was a loyal dog, but when you can't afford to keep it, it's best to put it up for adoption, so to speak. His hands balled up, fisted in his pockets, and he took a seat next to a building, trying to think if there was anyplace cheaper than a convenience store.
So maybe he did look homeless. And that was why some stranger offered him part of a sandwich. Gorgeous stranger, too. Couldn't tell if they were man or woman, but still, Noel wasn't afraid to point out an attractive person. Just don't make a big deal out of it.
"Uhm. Thanks." Aren't you going to tell them you aren't homeless? No, free food is free food, right? Noel horked down the sandwich at a speed almost unprecedented. It's not like you're starving, mate, what use do you have for a handout? Well, now it's too late to say something, isn't it?! "I'm not homeless." You MORON, why would you say that NOW?! This guy... girl? is gonna THROW HANDS WITH YOU now. While he could totally win, it really didn't seem like the best idea with all these officers wandering about. "Just broke." Oh, like that'll make them feel better. Fucking idiot. An idiot, you are, Noel Sheary!
Now apologize.
"You know what all the police is doin' out?"
That's not an APOLOGY. Fuck it all.
After emerging from his home, he was greeted by some number of cops in the road. He ignored them, as was his right and his sworn duty. If he couldn't start fights with the police, then he might as well just ignore them, and they too would ignore him. He was a relatively unassuming lad anyway. A chin with not even a bit of chin stubble and a mop-top haircut of swaying, strawberry blonde locks that made him still look like a boy from certain angles. Even the wispy first growths of a mustache weren't quite enough to convince some, so every now and then he'd have to pull out his ID at a bar.
Money had been tight. Always was. Being in a gang is oddly like being a fish, if every fish had more than one human person inside of it. Right? The biggest fish has the most people, and that fish takes up all the good resources and eats up the littlest fish, and the sort of mid-sized fish had to eat shit and die on their own. That was where he was, more or less, that pissing Joplin bratva controlled almost everything. Why they hadn't just killed the De La Vegas at this point was a mystery.
(Not that Noel wanted them to. Then he'd be really fucked.)
So he woke up hungry, and the only thing in the fridge was a can of relish. Noel was living like the bugger from Fight Club. All condiments, no food. And now he was out, debating on how much he could spend on groceries. You'd think everything in Joplin would be cheap to match up to its clientele, but not so. The way some of these places charged, you'd think they were posted up in Seattle.
He popped into the local convenience store. Run by some nice immigrant family, though Noel had never bothered to ask where they immigrated from. A country, probably.
"Five dollars for an ice cream slider? You've got to be fucking kiddin' me."
"Sorry." The girl at the register shrugged -- no older than 16, and clearly already tired of working this dead-end job.
"It was three last week, and that was still way too much."
"Sorry, man." She loudly popped her gum. "You gonna buy it, or are you gonna keep complaining?" Noel silently debated whether or not a singular ice cream slider was worth almost as much as a Starbucks pissaccino or whatever. He decided against it.
Hunger gnawed at him, but he didn't dare call Avi up for another loan. That was his boss, not a goddamn bank teller. Plus, the rest of the gang probably wouldn't take too kindly to it. Noel was a loyal dog, but when you can't afford to keep it, it's best to put it up for adoption, so to speak. His hands balled up, fisted in his pockets, and he took a seat next to a building, trying to think if there was anyplace cheaper than a convenience store.
So maybe he did look homeless. And that was why some stranger offered him part of a sandwich. Gorgeous stranger, too. Couldn't tell if they were man or woman, but still, Noel wasn't afraid to point out an attractive person. Just don't make a big deal out of it.
"Uhm. Thanks." Aren't you going to tell them you aren't homeless? No, free food is free food, right? Noel horked down the sandwich at a speed almost unprecedented. It's not like you're starving, mate, what use do you have for a handout? Well, now it's too late to say something, isn't it?! "I'm not homeless." You MORON, why would you say that NOW?! This guy... girl? is gonna THROW HANDS WITH YOU now. While he could totally win, it really didn't seem like the best idea with all these officers wandering about. "Just broke." Oh, like that'll make them feel better. Fucking idiot. An idiot, you are, Noel Sheary!
Now apologize.
"You know what all the police is doin' out?"
That's not an APOLOGY. Fuck it all.
♡coded by uxie♡