pandagosquish
returning from a hiatus
mood
betrayed
location
chicken diner
outfit
i'm too lazy to find my last post smh
song
tags
TW: mentions of child abuse, homophobia
In all of Ellie's life, he had rarely encountered male touch that didn't ask for sex or for a stinging mark across his cheek. Lying, sprawled across Nicolas's body, his heart throbbed at the nightmare that flooded behind his eyes. He was safe, he was supported by someone who had only given happiness through touch, and yet there was that uncertainty creeping into his chest. The foreign hand flung over his shoulders could very well turn on him, to grip his throat like it gripped the handlebar of a motorcycle. It was an unrealistic thought, but nonetheless it was one that danced through his mind.
He knew his heart was spasming underneath his fabricated realities, the trembling that came with every dirt-streaked imagination racing down his arms. Blame it on the weather. It’s not you, you’re cold. It’s just cold. But Ellie’s attempts to sedate the shaking fell on unresponsive hands. What was it again? Negative feedback loop? Something from 8th grade homeostasis? It didn’t seem like his loops were doing him any damn justice. Every tensing of his muscles stilled his hands for a moment, but the trembling always returned and at an amplified magnitude. He knew that, although he wasn’t necessarily in trouble, his body would keep trying to convince him that he was. These were fighting hands. These were hands that folded over his head at 15 when the pretty glass house came crashing down. These were hands of force, ripping a father and his shattered bottles away from daughters who shared his eyes.
Pulling his legs to his chest, he knew that the shaking would spread to his shoulders, to his back, until he became a shivering mess. It always ended up like this, and his drug-addled mind was not giving him any reprieve. He had to move, or else the weather excuse wouldn’t work anymore. Forcing a brightness into his expression, he moved out of the embrace, opting to lie on Nic’s lap instead. The smile gracing Ellie’s face would soothe any worry that Nic might have; it always did.
Looking up, he suddenly wasn’t so hungry for that funnel cake that brought Amy all the way here. A pity, really, he was originally looking forward to it. But the sight that blessed his eyes satiated his hunger enough. The buzzing of his phone in his pocket silenced itself. In this moment, all Ellie wanted to do was to remember the face of someone who had never cut lines into his heart, who had never trampled across his thoughts yielding a scythe for aspirations. Even if Nic’s attention wasn’t all on Ellie, for now that was okay. He was okay with just looking up. The tremble in his hands subsided as Nicolas’s hands were preoccupied with whatever was on his phone. There was no asphyxiating hold upon his throat, imaginary or not.
Eyes glazed past the point of coherency, the combination of substances in his body was finally taking a toll. He had felt the warping once before, but his mind was creating a push and pull of his body. Something about the lack of feeling on his skin made him feel like he was floating, like there was a bubble giving him a human-shaped force field.
Then the bubble popped.
In a good way.
Ellie was pulled into an upright position, his features traced with a feather-light touch. An urge to kiss every one of those pretty little fingers made itself well known in his thoughts. But here was a man drunk on something, hungry for what he wanted and confident in taking it. Usually it wasn’t the case, but Ellie had no qualms for now. His lips brushed Nic’s, the air heavy with their breath. There was something so perfect about this scenario, something so sweet that Ellie wished to keep it close in his memories forever. Nicolas’s praises were honey-soaked words: gentle, loving, reminiscent of the contentment a child would feel on a chilly December morning with a cup of hot cocoa in their hands. Ellie raised a hand to Nicolas’s face, his palm fitting the curve of the other boy’s jaw as his thumb softly caressed Nic’s cheekbone. He had gotten his moment of affection, now it was time to pay the same respects to the boy he was now straddling.
Rosy lips planted a kiss along the apples of Nic’s cheeks, running a chain of love down every natural pathway of the boy’s face. They peppered themselves over his jaw, dipping every now and then to the soft flesh of Nic’s neck before returning to it’s course across the bone. Once satisfied with the outlining of Nicolas’s face, Ellie paused before settling a small, light kiss on Nic’s face. He wanted to love Nic, truly, he did. But every kiss upon Nicolas’s pretty face left the little puppets in Ellie’s mind reeling. Especially the one who played the strings in his head, the one that was so closely mirrored to his mother’s murderer. You love a man? You’d put on pretty dresses for him then, huh? You’d let him control your every action and feed you dead whispers of affection. You’re not a man if you love one. So Ellie would love Nic from a distance. However distant he could be when his lips were locked with someone his heart knew he was good for. He would love Nic once Ellie couldn’t reach for the dead whispers of men and women that the puppet thought he deserved.
“I am very pretty, thank you for pointing that out.” Ellie hummed in response, his acceptance of the compliment one that he retorted with banter. It wasn’t vainness that riddled his blood, it was self-distrust parading as humor. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he moved to turn it off so he could truly enjoy the fair with Nicolas, but he noticed a particular Twitter message just before he hit the off switch. “You invited Ash?” Ellie said, his head turning towards the boy in mild disbelief. It was less so that he was angry, but more annoyance that Nic hadn’t asked if the little lady could come. This was supposed to be their secret corner, a little place just for them. But it was Ash, at least, and not anyone else. Someone Ellie regarded as a friend rather than a foe.
After a few beats of silence, Ellie chewed on the inside of his lip. The cold wasn’t the reason for his trembles, but it was certainly playing a factor in his need to go to the bathroom. “I’m gon’ head to the bathroom real quick, text me once Ash is here?” Ellie said, an excited grin on his face. He hadn’t seen Ash for a while, though they had their fair share of online banter, and he wouldn’t want to be terribly late for her arrival. Pushing himself off Nic, he gave the boy a leaving kiss on the forehead. “Don’t miss me while I’m gone!” He called out to the silhouette behind him as he made his way towards the fairground stalls.
-
His phone had been silent all the while that he had been in the bathroom. Checking Twitter for any updates, he was surprised to know that Ash hadn’t arrived yet. Ellie and Nic had been playing around on the public forum, joking that they would make their way to her if she didn’t get here in the next minute. Of course, they were both a little too drunk to do any sort of adventure. Pushing the stall door open, he met the frigid air with “What is taking Ash—“
The bubble returned. And it hardened itself, an invisible wall as he watched his only company be led off by a figure he couldn’t mistake as mister Lucky DuBois.
The genuine smile upon Ellie’s face seemed to vanish, replaced by a lingering, sickly grimace trying to disguise itself as happiness. You expected it, did you not? Don’t cry when you know it was going to happen all along. It’s fine. His body, ever a traitor, tried to assure him that he was fine. That the betrayal of both Nicolas and Ash didn’t carve into his chest like sharpened harpoons. Nicolas’s loving mumblings seemed like they were chockfull of lies. Was it just so Nicolas could leave with some twisted good conscience? That he had placated the angry, dramatic drug addict for an evening and it was perfectly okay to take his escape?
Holding his hands to his chest, the trembling returned. This time, he couldn’t really tell if it was the cold or if it was his body losing control of its very limbs. It seemed like he was loosing control of a lot of things, exhibit A being the very boy he thought he was okay with. In silence he walked back into the bathroom, his hands grasping for the levers of the sink. His hands gripped the sides of the ceramic sink, the smokey water hitting the drain like hail. Ellie cupped the water and splashed the scaling water to his face. This was perhaps the worst thing he could do to his skin, but right now he was more concerned to scrubbing the memories off his face. Every kiss, every touch, every embrace. And perhaps by removing them from his skin, he could remove them from his mind. He could go back to being Ellie, the agitated drunkard who couldn’t keep a friend to save his life.
Turning off the water, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and gave both Nicolas and Ash a fitting piece of his mind. It wasn’t his fault. It’s not my fault. Not this time. This time he wasn’t the culprit of the anger festering in his chest. Ellie dried his face with his sleeve, exiting the bathroom with his head held high. Everything was not fine, but who was Ellie if not a master at pretending it was? It had served him well for 17 years, it would do him justice again tonight.
nine lives