Peeping Through Keyholes

It’s impossible to ignore him; he’s the wasp at your windshield, unwittingly demanding attention until he stings you when you try to swat him away. Lured by the bright stripes to his personality, you acknowledge the tainted sunshine yellow but push the black out, hoping it will never surface – and when it does, you won’t be ready for it. It’ll hit you like a swarm of locusts hungry for anything in its path.

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Peterick one-shot.
Written for the Fueled By Slash contest.
4,642 words.