CHAPTER [17] - A kiss.

Water sprayed all over him, and goosebumps spread like an array of light along his skin, crawling up every pore in his body.

Damsel shrieked, his hands reflexively attempting to block the source, but his eyes stung even more from the effort. "Fuck..!" "Fuck you!" he yelled. Damsel backed away, almost like he was running away from the source of his problems, but Darren only had that stupid grin on his face, grabbing Damsel by the arm, hooking him in place so he couldn't run even if he wanted to.

"Oh, for God's sake-" His breathing became more rapid, the shower-head was in his face, opening his mouth only caused him to choke, and he kept his eyes closed to avoid having to deal with the high-pressure water coming at him; he felt like he was drowning. The more anxious Damsel became, the more irritated he became. "Stop!"

"Why should I?" It was only now that Darren revealed his voice; although Damsel couldn't see it; his face was lined with amusement, like he was messing with the boy.

"It fucking hurts! Stop!" He shoved Darren.

"Yeah,

did you listen to Samuel when he asked you to stop?"

Darren grabbed his wrists, tilting his head as he asked the question. His grip on Damsel's wrist wasn't light, you could see the color drain from the area surrounding where he was grasping.

Damsel's fingers trembled, at that moment when his muscles and resistance loosened, Darren shoved Damsel's cold body towards the much colder wall. Moisture was mixed in the air around them,  when Damsel's back made contact with the chilly surface, his shoulders tensed.

Blood rushed through his head, Damsel felt extremely claustrophobic; his heart pace had started picking up, and he was hearing echoes ring in his ear, even the tips of his fingertips felt light.

What was Darren doing?

"S-Samuel, I know,  I-I wasn't thinking straight at the time!" He managed to rush out the words through the spraying water. His gaze lowered to the ground, his eyelashes were trembling and he knew his limbs were trembling aswell. He so desperately tried to loosen his grip. "Stop!"

"But you didn't back then, did you?"

For fuck's sake. Damsel's heart dropped, he tried shaking off Darren's grasp, but it was no use.

"I-I'm sorry, stop. Fuck!"

Why now, when he was trying to fucking forget it all, why did Darren have to shove it back down his throat; why couldn't he just fucking forget about it? Why did he have to have everything used against him? Just let him go for fuck's sake.

"No."

His heart was thundering.

"Da-"

"I'm not going to stop."

What was it like,

Talking to a wall?

Saying words that would never reach the other person.

Darren wouldn't listen to him

Tears welled up in his eyes, he couldn't even have the balls to look up and meet Darren's eyes, every wall of his body felt like it was starting to crumble down, god; it was so frustrating, so fucking frustrating.

The spraying water dimmed out everything, it was loud; so loud in his ears. His eardrums were clogged up, everything around him was sounded out, he could barely keep his eyes open, his heart was thundering and slowly, he was nearing an extreme state of panic. It was all going every so slowly, like in slow-motion, the blurred voice of Darren, the sound of the water against his skin, his own voice vocal in his ears. Scream, just scream, he told himself.

It seemed that the word, stop, had no weight to it at all, as if it were meaningless; and at times when that word is the only thing you can say, the only word you can depend on; how could it bear the same weight it has when In front of someone that would pay no regard to it? God, he wanted it to stop; he wanted nothing more than to end this. He was so, so desperate. But the fact was, the person In front of him held no care towards that word.

"Are you pitying yourself?" Darren said,

leaning his head towards Damsel with that chilly smile playing at his lips, his breath fanned against Damsel's ear, that was rushing with red when each syllable played out from Darren's lips. "You're a victim right now, aren't you? Is that what you're saying to yourself?"

"I bet you are." He breathed out, smiling against his ear.

The whole weight of Darren loomed over Damsel, cornering him into place against the wall; and Damsel could only try to cower back.

His heart, it was beating like he was being chased.

Damsel locked his jaw into place and averted his head to the side, avoiding Darren's lips by his ear, at least not to feel Darren's breath terrorize him; perhaps at this moment he was glad he couldn't open his eyes.

His head was spinning.

But Darren did not accommodate, he simply leaned in closer to Damsel's exposed ear, his hands against the wall, leaning over, closer, trapping Damsel further in that small space. Like a wolf over its prey.

"Damsel," He called out, he placed his other hand on the other side of his head on the wall, fully entrapping him. The syllables of his name sounded even more wretched coming out of Darren's mouth.

Damsel's breath condensed at his next words.

"I'm only copying what you did to others,"

Color drained from his face.

Those words played as a dreadful loop in his head.

What you did to others.

Pitter, patter.

The shower-head finally stopped agonizing him, the burst of water shut down, and only a few droplets fell to the floor and echoed. Though his ear was blocked, at the moment of Darren's words, they re-opened, the other's words loud and clear, with a pop. He felt that even the sound of the water droplets beneath his feet were screams.

"You don't remember?" A condescending, low laugh escaped Darren's lips, he ran a frustrated hand through his hear, pushing back the wet locks as he stared at Damsel's pale face.

Damsel didn't care about anyone but himself.

"Don't look shocked," He gripped Damsel's jaw, his fingers digging into his skin as he lifted his head so that Damsel's gaze met his. Cooing as he spoke.

Darren placed his tongue against the inside of his cheek, following the tremble of Damsel's pretty eyes.

His eyes lingered.

Damsel winced.

"You did this to Oliver too; in the shower-rooms." His grip on Damsel's jaw tightened. "10th grade, you don't remember?"

He didn't need a vocal answer from Damsel, that blank stare was enough; he broke his grasp on Damsel's jaw, his hand falling to his side as he stared down at the boy. "Of course you wouldn't." He said with a slow smile, "You can only feel bad for someone when it's about you."

Damsel swallowed a bump in his throat, his head was spinning, thoughts traced back to 2 years ago, in the locker-room with that skinny boy. One by one, bits and pieces of disgusting memories shaded into his head. His whole body numbed after Darren's words.

He had done the same thing,

and he didn't even remember it.

"I-.." he tried to speak,  but no words came out at all.

I, what?

What was there to say?

"You haven't changed, at all." Darren spoke.

Those words ran through every nerve of his body.

Through every timber.

No,

I have changed.

I'm different.

"Do you want to be applauded for not screaming around for once? For not punching shit?" Darren scratched under Damsel's chin with his index finger, smiling down at him, like playing with a fucking cat. He leaned his head closer to Damsel's for his next words,

"Good job, you're acting like a normal fucking human being." He cooed.

-..

"You didn't lie earlier, I never had a fucking choice, but if I did have one, I, for one, wouldn't care who the fuck it is; and I sure as-hell would appreciate the thought of them without having to  lose them to feel something as even an ounce of that appreciation," He let his hand drop to fix the hairs on Damsel's forehead. "Your mate, they're like some thrown-away bitch that you decided to pick up again because you have nothing else left."

"What a fucked-up mindset, I seriously pity whoever you get as a mate, that reality will forever follow you, the reality that they were your last option."

"You had choices, you had thousands of them; and yet you couldn't make a single right one."

It was only then, that Darren released his grip, turning to scoff. His gaze lingered on Damsel's expression.

and Damsel could only stand there, dumbly, and at a loss. Under the lowering temperature of the bathroom, where his skin trickled against the cold, he could only listen to the screaming inside his head. The thoughts were a rampaging bull chasing red inside that head of his, raging in circles; each sentence, and each word that Darren had said, they made a mark down in a corner of his heart.

After those words, what could he think?

Selfish.

That word seemed like a repeating fact, over-and-over again; a fact that he had been told each time he lost a little piece of his life. It was a fact that it all came down to when he thought about how, and why, he had to be in this situation. It was simply because he was selfish; and because he was selfish from the start, that the other events took place.

First, it was Matthew in the hospital room, telling him how deluded he was, that he was ungrateful; that he was fucked up, unfit, and that he was living in his own world. Next, it was his own parents; setting him a trap, sending him off into the hands of people that wanted him better off dead, who, god knows, were even planning to kill him. He had also seen how his pack shed not a single trace of remorse; in fact, even celebrating his departure; in a single moment, he had lost all he had known his whole life; all truths, all lies. Then, Carter; humiliating him in front of every elder.

In one night, he had lost everything. His so-called family, his 'friends', his pack, reputation, dignity, his honor, and soon;

his mate.

The more he thought,

the more reality sunk.

He had never lost anything;

he couldn't have lost anything if he never had them in the first place.

Dignity? Honor? Reputation? Friends? Family?

Bullshit.

He had none.

Today, he opened his eyes.

And he realized,

he was ever so lonely.

It was because of himself, and yet, not even one person was beside him.

He did regret everything, how he acted, what he did, what he said,

but why, didn't anyone stay?

No one.

No,

his mate had always been there.

His mate was the only variable in his life that could be definite.

At this moment, when Damsel realized the void, the thought of his mate being the one person in the entirety of the universe that would stay beside him, that could provide him with everything he had ever wanted and lacked, it was euphoric feeling. His mate was definite.

Damsel wanted his mate.

He needed his mate.

Without his mate, right now, Damsel didn't believe he could continue living.

Through losing everything, he had grown up overnight.

He couldn't lose his mate as well.

Darren was right, it was only now that Damsel cared about his Mate; and yet, it was the only point Damsel disagreed with. Damsel was so, so thankful, that he had woken up before meeting his mate.

He was so thankful that he could anticipate his mate properly now;

if he was the same Damsel from a few weeks ago, meeting his mate; he would not forgive himself in this lifetime. In a way, realizing his mate's importance opened a door for him, a door to acceptance and bliss. If the events hadn't occurred, Damsel would not have been cornered, and if Damsel had not been cornered, he would have never found the horrid people surrounding him, and he would not have realized that he did not need anyone's validation anymore,

his mate provided all that and more.

Darren was wrong in this regard.

At least, now, his mate could see the present Damsel, not the one from a few weeks ago, who he could not get rid of. His mate would trust and love the current Damsel. Damsel could treat his mate properly, rather than imagine how it would've all unfolded if the negative, temperamental Damsel from before was confronted with a mate that he would not care for, with a mate he treated violently.

His mate would see him for the him in the present, rather than the Damsel in the past.

And thank god, his mate would meet the current Damsel, and not the one in the past.

His thoughts were circling, but all that came to a stop when the temperature of the water touched his skin again.

Except this time, it started rising, rising enough for steam to eventually let off.

"Wait.."

At first, the change in heat brought his goosebumps to a higher degree, with his body soaking into the long-estranged warmth he hadn't felt in a while;

"Da-"

but the temperature did not stop rising.

"Fuck!"

It was sizzling.

"Wai-" His breath caught in his throat, ".. Uh-..!"

It was like fire being placed against his skin. He could've sworn the sizzling sound that he heard came from his own flesh.

"Darren-"

"I'm here." He  responded.

"Stop, stop!" He desperately swung his body, away from the burning heat, his stomach churned, he held back a scream.

It burned. The stinging pulsations from the liquid gritted at his skin, like lining a knife against it. And fuck, it was horrible; the pain that delivered the crackles of the knife to every pore in his body. His head was circling, garnishing, he couldn't hold those small yelps that lined his lips.

"Ah-.. wait, stop, p-plea-"

But to Darren, they sounded ever so lovely,

the gasps and the hisses that embedded his ears;

he could feel the shakiness of Damsel's breath, and he felt it when Damsel raised his hands to grip his shoulders, to support himself.

Those pretty hands gripped tighter when the water lowered to spray over his chest.

Darren's eyes darkened.

How long had passed? With Damsel's torment under the sizzling water.

It was 5 minutes, or more,

Perhaps it was because of the water, but Damsel didn't realize that tears had started pooling down his lips, small gasps escaped him and he was sobbing, letting out pleas as the tears did not stop.

"I-it hurts, please stop, p-please.."

When had he started crying?

at that second, his hand holding the shower-head trembled.

Darren's thoughts spiraled;

Damsel had told him it hurts,

the water stopped.

Inside that shower, there were two youth's, both terrified in their place.

Darren rested his head against Damsel's shoulder, letting out an exhale; with the heated temperature, surely Damsel couldn't have felt that breath.

He was going to lose it.

The silence that brimmed between them was scorching.

Damsel's skin was tingling, tinges of red were across his body from the burning liquid, and yet; that pain that stinged him brought an eerie stop to the thoughts that had been circling his head the whole day.

With no words, Darren pulled himself away.

He exited the bathroom, closing the door shut behind him; as his thoughts dawned on him; his face paled.

His mind was blank; completely blank.

And it felt foreign to him, that blankness.

He couldn't look at Damsel.

What had he done?

What was this feeling?

What was this.

The same thing he had felt in the hallway at school, when he had his hands around Damsel's throat.

What was wrong with him?

It was that terrifying rush that filtered through the pores of his body during moments like these that terrified him; moments when that surge floods in; even he himself didn't know what it was, that sense of immorality.

When Damsel's throat was between his hands, he had that same feeling; it was an eerie sense of control.

The same sense of control that he had never felt in his whole life,

and that was what scared him.

These foreign thoughts when he was Infront of Damsel.

Darren couldn't stay between these enclosed walls when his thoughts were spiraling, he grabbed the spare key and verified that he locked the door once he stepped outside the apartment. The chilly air of the night ran up his system, though he preferred the cold; even when he walked down the complex to walk along.

It was an awful attempt at clearing his head.

The city lights were in his eyes, the loud roars of the cars that flashed by, cigarette butts and trash along the concrete. Trash cans that had been overturned, and flickering lights loomed over him. The place smelled disgusting too. He knew this a corner of the town over; the state of things were obviously flawed; it was populated with a gang that made it clear it was their territory; he needed to let Damsel know.

Damsel was already involved in the underworld back at their hometown; the last thing they needed for their safety was Damsel involving himself again. Drugs, women, and such would not enter the apartment.

For both his sake, and Samuel's.

The matter of making money, as well; they would both need to take safe jobs; he didn't trust Damsel on that regard.

Now; his thoughts merely circled with plans and what to do; his breaths made smoke whenever he exhaled, clear that it was a cold, cold night; the moon was nearing its full. He kept rubbing his hands together, blowing his hot breath on them. Ushering Damsel out of his thoughts, it seemed everything would trail back to him.

A sign flickered Infront of him, a serpent intertwined with a staff. This was a pharmacy, besides run-down shops that fit the dirty scenery;

Damsel's bruises flashed in his mind.

When he entered, the bell sounded.

-

-

Only until the last drop of water in the bathroom dried, did Damsel step out; his back was lined with burn marks that stung at every flex of a muscle; and yet,

the pain was some sort of numbing drug to the thoughts that pounded his brain.

He had never felt so, right, in his life.

It hurt, it did, and yet it took over his senses completely, whatever thought he had, it washed them away, all he could do, all he could feel, was that rush that invaded his senses; his mind couldn't help but flick back to it, the burning; the apprehension, and god; the scorching.

Every single factor felt like it's what he had needed. To someone who wanted nothing more than to forget everything, the pain was a catalyst, it was the factor he needed most; like a short-cut.

The pain took over a portion of his brain; the brain he had no control over.

There was something that could finally fucking control it.

Was he disgusted with himself? Not particularly.

That rush of pain he felt was what he had been needing, even if the way he found it was through Darren.

Fuck.

Darren.

The image of the man Infront of him, shower-head in hand, delivering the words that, like the water, burned Damsel's mind.

Damsel was selfish,

he could only feel guilt before,

but Infront of Darren, he was in the position of the people he felt guilt for,

and that was completely different.

He was wearing a simple set of grey pajamas, grey sweatpants, and a grey top; though it seemed to brush against his bruises; at every move, he only winced. The burn marks weren't small.

He heard the sound of the front door clicking, then, the door opened to reveal Darren, with a plastic bag in hand.

"Does it hurt?"

He asked, taking his shoes off, glancing at Damsel. His cold gaze left him just as fast it latched onto him.

Damsel's wet hair trickled over his forehead, his cheeks seemed to be a color of red from the temperature, it was different from the Damsel he would see on a normal day. There was no harsh look on his face, instead; Damsel seemed, well behaved.

?

Damsel's body tensed, memories of the bathroom flooded his mind and he could no longer look at Darren in such a carefree way again, his fingers witched, and his face immediately locked to the ground. The carpet was nice.

"No, it's okay," He rushed out.

It was awkward.

Darren finished taking off his shoes, he stood back up, walking towards the boy; his eyes lowering to the trembling hands that tightened around the hem of his shirt. Darren bit the inside of his cheek; staring at him. Damsel wouldn't lift his head to look at him, his eyes had been glued to the floor since he walked in; and when Darren raised his voice, the slight tremble of his fingers didn't go unnoticed.

This was the first time Damsel was like this.

Darren's stomach churned; yet he kept his face normal, his voice as cold. His eyes latched onto the youth's neck, where a red mark carried under his clothes.

"Your back is red, let me apply some ointment." It wasn't a question, nor an offer.

Sirens went off in his head.

"No- Please don't." The words came out subconsciously, with Damsel adding a please after his request.

Darren's hand at his side froze;

that feeling from before, was making a pit again.

Just like earlier, Darren didn't pay heed to his words, he pulled Damsel into the bedroom, flicking one of the dim lights on as to not wake up Samuel.

"Sit down." Darren said.

Damsel's head was running with flashing lights, just seeing the sight of Darren shook his nerves to the core, he couldn't bring himself to look at him, not at all. His expression was tense, yet he obediently sat down on the end bed, avoiding Samuel's feet.

His eyes stayed glued to the floor, the sounds of the plastic bag crinkling paid heed to his ears.

A towel made contact with his mop of hair; Damsel remembered when he was a child, his mother would take him into her arms after a summer bath, sing lullabys in his ear as she gently wove a towel through his locks, wiping ever so gently in that same, summer breeze. Her doting whispers as she spoke tales into his ear as the soft towel pat against him; by the end, it would only be a little damp; and he would sleep in his mother's soft embrace.

Then, the next morning, she would be gone.

Just like the rest of his family.

He was alone in those 4 walls till the next summer.

Yet, that long-forgotten warmth that he had lost for more than a decaded; he was experiencing again. He lowered his gaze further, as if he could sink into the ground if he drew holes in it with his eyes; but the gentle touches at his hair sent a feeling that he never wanted to remember.

Darren's touch was warm.

Damsel would forget to hold his neck up, and yet, when he leaned into the towel, Darren would support his head without a complaint. He wiped his hair ever so carefully, not at one moment did he feel as though it was rough. Darren was soundless too.

Was Darren used to it?

Looking after Samuel like this?

Oh.

Darren was a little jealous of Samuel.

If Darren looked after him so well.

His thoughts continued to trail, yet those warm hands stayed just as gentle.

Damsel was well-behaved, and docile. Like a kitten being groomed by it's owner.

It wasn't until he felt warm hands at his back that he jolted.

The feeling of someone else's touch against his numb flesh.

"Wait-"

The comfortableness he had managed to aquire washed away.

Darren rubbed circles against the abused skin of the younger In front of him; even Damsel's skin was perfect; he hadn't paid attention in the shower, but there was no flaw against his skin, no scar, no nothing; it was a complete blank sheet. A sign that Damsel hadn't suffered any severe hardship since he was small.

But the bruises that had formed held a great contrast against that very same blank sheet of skin;

the thought that flashed by was a little unsettling.

The only marks on Damsel's body were caused by him.

He leaned closer to reach one of the marks at the boy's waist, his lips were a little further from Damsel's ear.

"Does it hurt?"

Damsel did not respond.

Darren dug his finger into one of the darker marks.

"Ah-"

"Are you deaf?"

"It-.. doesn't hurt."

"Alright," His breath fanned against Damsel's ear.

Darren's hand trailed along his back, the ointment coating the bruises. "Turn around."

Damsel shifted to face him.

And shit,

Darren froze.

Those pretty eyes he had admired countless times before were In front of him, averting their gaze; that alert look of fear as they tried to look at anywhere but at him. Damsel had his head lowered, peering up at him with those pretty things in that moment, his eyes had glossed over from the complaints and grievances he was forced to take, the corners of his eyes were tinged red; and his lips had slightly swollen from how much he bit at them. Damsel's hands were grasping at the bed-sheets, as if he were taking out his uncomfortableness at the sheets.

Because he knew well to hold his temper.

Darren's grip against the ointment tightened.

Although his back had multiple red tinges; it seemed that Damsel's torso had suffered more.

Darren's gaze washed over the boy.

That pretty face, his exposed neck, and his eyes browsed lower; the curve of his collar bones, to the pretty color of the points on his chest. They stood erect, perhaps because of the cold air against them. Damsel's abdomen was coated with a gentle outline of a six-pack, not too in your face, but it somehow adorned the label pretty on him.

How was his body just as pretty as his face?

His eyes dropped to a particular bruise at the side of his waist; the color was particularly dark in comparison to his skin, and Darren could not hold the thought of placing his hand over it. His fingers traced the bruise, and Damsel trembled under his touch; flinching when his fingertips made contact with that piece of skin.

It was quiet.

The two had thoughts of their own.

He squeezed some of the ointment on his finger before he placed his touch against Damsel again. Damsel's skin was cold, and his? Warm.

They sat there for a bit, Damsel had noticeably relaxed under his touches. Compared to the start, when Damsel had his full guard up, stiffening in place; now he seemed to be near dozing off. A sight similar to when he was drying his hair, it seemed that Damsel only needed coaxing.

The shower had melted his nerves, and his mind had never seemed so relaxed before; under Darren's touches, his eyes closed for a second. Darren was properly applying the ointment, neither of the two spoke in that moment, like in a tactic understanding, but even so, what was there to say?

What was there to say after what had happened in the bathroom.

The bathroom.

Damsel's dozing figure stiffened again.

The thoughts were spiraling in his mind again, the way Darren had changed completely yet again, like the man in the shower was nothing but someone he had made up; because at this moment, Darren had that strange expression along his face, worry-full eyes staring at each bruise as he helped him.

It was at this time that Damsel was troubled.

What was he supposed to think.

Be angry? Yell? Scream?

How could he? When Darren was asking how he was in that tone of his?

"Don't wear those PJ's, didn't you pack anything softer?" Darren questioned, getting up from his position; he had gotten pins and needles from how long he had sat there. He moved his leg back and forth for a little to get that feeling away.

It felt a little cold without Darren next to him.

Damsel tensed, staring at the clothes next to him; Darren was right, the material felt horrible, it stung against his burn marks.

When his eyes flickered to the suitcase by the door, he remembered an item of clothing he had brought along with him; and his expression froze.

"No, I don't have anything else, the others are all the same material." He hurriedly reported, his syllables far too close to one another.

How could Darren not see the change in his expression?

Earlier, Darren had taken out the first thing his hand could grab at in the suitcase, he never directly took anything out to look properly.

"The fuck do you sound so suspicious for?"

Without another word, he turned away to find the suitcase, it was right by the door, he only had to open it to rummage through the clothing inside. There were the basics, like shampoo, his toothbrush, toothpaste, the normal stuff.

Damsel was quick to get on his feet, rushing besides Darren to hold his sleeve;

"There's nothing, I didn't bring anything different." His eyes were in a state of panic, he tugged at Darren's wrist, pulling him away from the suitcase.

When he met Darren's eyes though, his hands stopped. He watched as Darren's gaze lowered to the hand on his sleeve; then, he looked back up at him.

Damsel let go, his hands returning to his side. His eyes latched onto the floor; and turned his head to the side.

Pitter, patter.

The sound of drops of water from the wet towel hit against the wooden floor, dampening it.

"What's this?"

Darren's voice sounded, and Damsel knew what he was questioning without having to look. His ears reddened, and he felt a new level of shame. Fuck, it was embarrassing.

Darren held up a soft, light pink hoodie. A small cartoon ice-cream printed at the front.

This was the last item he had expected to find under Damsel's possession.

Damsel.

His eyes subconsciously looked towards Damsel, then back at the item of clothing.

The corner of his lip tugged upwards, he tried to warp a poker face; but looking back up at Damsel,

he snorted.

Damsel heated up under his stare, "Fuck, stop!" He yanked the hoodie out of  Darren's grip, glaring at him as he hide the hoodie behind himself.

Darren couldn't help but laughing; his shoulders trembled as he tried to hold it in, but seeing Damsel's face scrunch up had him bursting out into laughter; "Are you serious?" He spoke between his breaths before he ended up snickering again.

He covered his eyes as he did so.

Damsel's face was heating up, he wanted nothing more than to crawl in a hole and die. When Darren started laughing, he was at-a-loss for a second before he threw the hoodie at him in frustrated, getting up to walk out of the room.

But Darren leaned forward, grasping his wrist, he managed to hold him back, although his face was very much amused, he tried to keep a straight face to make Damsel feel better,

"It's not that bad, wear it and we can head to bed." His words and his actions did not match, the hand on Damsel's wrist was still trembling, from trying to hold back his laughter, even on his face lay a stupid grin.

Damsel grew more frustrated and humiliated at this expression.

"You're still laughing!"

Darren started snickering again; he tugged Damsel's wrist again, to appease him, "I'm sorry, wear it, okay?"

Damsel shoved him away, "Fuck off!"

His face was beet-red, all the way up to his ears and nape; it was all too fun to tease Damsel.

"Damsel, it's really cute, you have good tastes!"

"Shut the fuck up!" Damsel kicked at him; though Darren caught his tricky leg, to which Damsel let out another frustrated groan, trying to get out of his grasp again.

"It's cute, I didn't lie." He coaxed.

"Let me go, bastard-"

Darren didn't remove his hold, he tugged Damsel forward; a bit too harshly.

Oh god.

As a result, Damsel lost his footing,

he toppled over Darren.

he toppled over Darren.

The two cursed synonymously, it all seemed like slow motion. Damsel knew he had been doomed the moment Darren had grasped his leg. Never had he regretted a moment so much before.

It was terrifying, seeing Darren's face zoom closer and closer to him; that ugly face of his; and nothing but gravity could hold him back at that moment. Gravity and time.

Two things he had never hated so much before.

P

a

t.

Darren was pinned under Damsel,

and his lips?

Captured by Damsel's.

The sound of their heartbeats almost echoed in the room;

if one could cut through the tension; they would need the sharpest of blades. It was daunting upon the two; and only silence laced between them. Damsel had closed his eyes as he felt the impact, and Darren had tried his best to get out of the way, but neither had expected feeling the other's lips clashing against theirs.

That moment was the most horrid for either of them.

The bathroom was less horrifying than this exact moment.

Fuck.

At first, Darren merely felt something soft against his lips; it was electric, and electric feeling that warped through the nerves in his body; like ice-cold water running along his skin. The hairs along his body stood upright.

M c h.

The sound of a kiss.

Darren had only wanted to open his mouth to speak, but that resulted in Damsel doing so at the same time aswell; as a matter of fact; at the moment he wanted to pronounce 'M' was when that sound resulted.

They shared a kiss.

Not just a clash between their lips.