Midgar High School

Something about walking with him… it always feels so right. It feels more right now, after everything. He's different than he was when we met; sometimes he has the same tick about him as I do. It's beautiful.

I should take my medicine more often. Sometimes we both go off it for days, just to see how far before we cross a line.

It's been three days.

I think people notice that. They watch us when we walk by like we are wolves on a chocobo farm. It makes him smirk and that turns me on.

Dangerous, it's like playing with fire when you are fire too.

He can tell I'm thinking about burning when I stare at his hair. He'll make a little laugh and glare up at me. Half a challenge, half a come on. It's like touching a leg-trap, just waiting for it to snap on you. He wouldn't hurt me anyway.

I'm crazy too.

So it's late, but when you're three days off your meds it doesn't seem like you've gone that long without sleep. The urges take over. We shouldn't have gone out tonight; when we are like this, we could kill someone.

He trips me, fast. Always been fast. The brick of the wall barks against my arms and I feel the adrenaline leak out of the scrapes when he kisses me. That look of challenge burns in force when I throw him up against he wall in return, arms above his head.

He bites harder when we are like this, I do too. I let go of his arms and claw at his shirt he's already digging at my pants. We know we need to take our medicine tonight. But this is the rush we wanted.

"Found a fag fest!"

We both tensed then, snapping our heads to the side and snarling. If that fucker had any sense he would have run.

I'm glad that our prey came willingly. It was much more fun this way. A bat? It'll take more than that.

He cracks his knuckles one at a time. Every little crack sends a thrill up my back. I like to watch him, his hair is the same color as blood, it's like art in motion.

The bat lifts up and collides with my shoulder. They try to hit me first, I'm bigger. Idiots, that was it.

Snap.

So fast. It's poetry. Elbow to the head, off the wall and back with a knee to the same place before the fool had time to stagger. I caught the bat, watching as our prey fell to the alley. I won't need it. He's going to do this himself, because the fool struck me.

The kick lifts our prey to his feet where I grab him. Blood is already trickling from his mouth and nose, it drips on my hands, sticky, sweet, it smells so good.

His hand traces the muscle on my shoulder and he leans close, pinning our prey in between us. The fool jerks once when the knife cuts through his stomach, a flash and splatter tell me that he's not done and the blade crossed again at the fool's throat.

There's blood on his lips when he kisses me.

I let go of the fool's body and he slides from our way. Standing on the fool's chest, he's as tall as I am. Falling to the floor of the alley we continue where we started, smearing fool's blood across the ground. It tastes so good mixed with his sweat.

We need to take our medicine tonight.