floratic:

GET  YOUR  FUCKING  HANDS  OFF  OF  ME .  ❞   he  responds  with  a  cold  snarl , he  stops  victor’s  hand  with  a  vice  grip ,  as  if  to  break  off  the  fingers  reached  on  out  towards  him .   ❝  you  like  wearing  your  rings , yeah ?  then  keep  your  hands  off .  ❞  

 it’s  more  than  a  defiant  manner ,  but  it’s  defensive ,  shielded  by  the  cool  threats  laid  beneath  the  dark  growl  of  his  voice .  pitiful  little  mutt ,  what  are  you  going  to  do  now ?  his  father  had  said  the  same  thing  once  too , he  had  only  smiled  back  through  with  bloodied  teeth  &  gums , before  spitting  into  his  face  with  a  wider  grin .  that  punch  better  kill  me  or  else ,  shitface .   

in  a  measured  calculation , he  removes  his  hand  away  from  victor’s ,  curling  them  into  a  tight  fist  by  his  side  as  he  tilts  his  head  to  take  up  a  good  look  of  this  man .  tall ,  collected ,  didn’t  seem  like  a potential  threat . yet .   but  regardless ,  he  still  reminded  him  of  a  venomous  snake  slithering  its  way  through  the  grass ,  keeping  its  fangs  hidden  until  the  moment  was  ripe .  so  he  was  a  danger .  most  things in  the  world  around  him  were ,  including  himself .  it  was  like  walking  with  a  ticking  bomb  planted  into  yourself ,  &  each  time  he  looked  into  the  mirrors ,  it  was  his  father  that  stared  back  towards  him ,  wearing  his  bruises & scars .  countless  of  times , he’d  broken  the  mirrors  of his  home ,  shattered  them  to  icicle  bits  beneath  his  fists .  

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& — this  time , he  doesn’t  ask  who  this  man  is . he  wasn’t  interested , to  be  precise . creating  more  connections  meant  only  more  potential  risks  for  himself .  maybe  it  would  have  been  better  to  give  a  false  name  to  isaac  too , —- but  no ,  isaac  had  already  known  him  before  they  had  met . parrish  would  have  given  his  name  up  due  to  his  fair  &  trusting  nature .  it  was  too  late  to  back - trek  on  him  now ,  but  this  new  man . .  

he  could  easily  hide  himself  beneath  the  veils  of  lies ,  &  it  was  the  only  matter  of  getting  isaac  to  cooperate  with  him .  maybe  he  would ,  maybe  he  wouldn’t ,  but  every  choice  was  always  a  gamble .  drawing  back ,  he  recoils  away  from  victor  in  a  wary  manner ,  keeping  the  gaze  locked  steadily  upon  him .     ❝  you  don’t  need  to  know  where  i  came  from ,  that  doesn’t  matter  anymore .  right  now , i’m  no one .  ❞  in  a  flat  voice ,  he  digs  his  hands  deep  down  into  the  pockets  of  his  jeans ,  tilting  his  head  in  a  measured  pace ,  a  twitch  of  grin  daring  to  appear  on  his  face .       ❝  i’m  nothing , but  i’ll  spin  you  a  story  if  you’re  so  unable  to  mind  your  own  fucking  business .   ❞

When his hand is grabbed tight, Elliot’s fingers like a vice as though he intended to crush his bones, the curious, half smile on his face dims considerably. His expression goes flat, and all that remains is a quiet youth of his lip, a grimace that might appear more like a snarl.

“A filthy street kid with an equally nasty attitude. How original.” His look of disgust fades as Elliot releases him, and he has half a mind to grab the boy’s throat in retaliation, but he thinks better of it. He has no idea who he is, who might be searching for him - for all he knows, he might be getting his hands dirty with a rich man’s son, one who might have his head on a platter by daybreak (although judging by this stranger’s appearance, that outcome felt incredibly unlikely)

He decides to play his cards carefully, but not without a bit of fun added into this game. He was always hunting for something new, something exciting in which to inject his venom. Perhaps this boy will prove to be a useful asset yet, even if his only use is just pure entertainment.

“I can only assume Isaac picked you up from the rabies ward in the city shelter. Didn’t your parents ever tell you it’s not polite to try and hurt someone you just met?” He’s rubbing his hand as he says it, despite the truth that the pain was less than minimal, practically nonexistent at this point. “Normally I’d insist on getting in apology, but I’m going to guess that’d be akin to pulling your teeth. Am I wrong, mutt? I think I’ll just call you that, since you seem so insistent on hiding everything possible away from me. Sound fair, mutt? Or maybe I’ll call you a snotty little puppy instead?”

He throws the words like verbal bullets in Elliot’s face again, and although his body language is very subdued, his eyes tell the whole of the story. It was a challenge, as though he were just begging Elliot to come at him again, just try and lay a hand on me like that again, see if I won’t put a bullet in your heart.

The tenseness of the situation seems to be building to a fever pitch, until Isaac steps into the fray, a knife to cut through the thick air between Victor and this standoffish boy. “Heeeyyyy, let’s all just be cool here, yeah?” He places a hand on Victor’s shoulder, only for the older man to shrug it off immediately, a noise of clear disgust uttering from the back of his throat. Isaac is unfazed by the action. “Victor, why don’t you just give me the money you came here to give me, and-”

He pauses, looks at Elliot, bites his tongue just before he blurts his name out in the open air. That’s all Victor would need, just enough to be able to worm his way into another person’s skull. “And my new friend and I will keep hanging out, like we were planning to do before you barged in here.”

Victor gives Elliot one last once over, before finally releasing the boy from his icy glare. “Mm, I think I might stay for a bit, if you don’t mind. By which I mean, I’ll be staying here, getting to know your ‘new friend’, and you’ll shut up and wait for us to finish. Then I’ll pay you. Good? Good.”

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He turns to his new focus of attention, Isaac’s kitchen, a small, built-in-the-corner room of the apartment, with a dingy looking refrigerator, which he promptly swings open and retrieves a bottle of beer from inside. He cracks it open, takes a sip, but his eyes narrow as he swallows. “Isaac, this brand is… Horrid. Buy a different kind next time, would you?”

“Uh, well, I didn’t buy any of it for you, douche-nozzle!” Isaac yells, fingers curling into fists at his side. He leans closer to Elliot, mouth right next to his ear as he whispers, “We used to live together, a long way back. Now when he comes over, he still thinks he owns the place, along with every goddamn thing in it. Annoying as fuck.”

“So, let’s get back to you, smart aleck,” He promptly pours the beer down the kitchen sink, to Isaac’s utter dismay. He grumbles in the background and brushes past Elliot to close the fridge door that Victor so rudely left hanging open and allowing all the cold air to escape.

“You say you’re nothing and no one, but that just leads me to believe you’re running from something, someone, right? But you, I’m sure you’ve got at least one person back home, pining for your return. Why don’t you run back to them, instead of allowing yourself to be beaten to a pulp in alleyways by thugs? You, with your baby face and pretty blond hair, you don’t look like you’re cut out for this life.” It’s then that he reaches upward, fingers skimming the skin of his own face, outlining a faint, but visible scar that spreads from the right corner of his mouth, up to mid-cheek.

It was a mystery to most how it came to be, and the only ones who truly knew the whole story were long, long dead and buried in shallow graves lining a lonely, isolated riverbank. All that remained was the ugliness of one fateful encounter, a craggy indent forever etched there, like a vine of death and destruction that spewed from his dangerous lips, and stuck to his skin like a badge of dishonor.

“Why don’t you tell me a story then, street pup? There’s only so much of one’s own business they can mind before they start to wander, indulging in the lives of other people. Plus, I’m not leaving here anytime soon, since I haven’t got an appointment until tonight, so you might as well say something. Unless you want me to talk your ear off. But something tells me you don’t care much for me, or what I do.” He flashes his teeth when he smiles in Elliot’s direction, crossing his arms and leaning his back against an adjacent wall.