Boychild & Girlchild.

corpse bride.

Anxiously, Olive played with a napkin, failing at folding an origami bird. Waiting for a few more seconds, she headed upwards, pushing open the sister’s door and peeking in. Her eyes flashed as strobe lights flowed around the room, a heavy haze at the top of the room where a fan didn’t move. Skinny, tiny fleshthings, girls with not a bit of meat on their bones, laughed in a shrieking tone, their paper-thin skin seeming to be dyed the palest tone of their natural color.

Olive loved these kids.

Their partying days were in full swing still, no hopes for a future without drugs dealt under the table or being picked up from the corner of Fifth and Burboun. She coughed from what she’d been inhaling, and she quickly shut the door behind her as she heard footsteps thundering up steps.


She flipped around in a military style about face, snapping herself to attention as she used to do in the program she’d been in through high school. When faced with a questioning look from the boychild, Adam, she wondered if her face could get any redder. She knew it already was from being faced with the party and drugs and dancing, so chances are it hadn’t made much of a change.

He handed her a drink in that classic red party cup, filled halfway with… soda?

“Ran out of alcohol.” He shrugged slightly, drinking from his own glass with a relaxed glance towards her.

She frowned, “I really hate this fucking town. Best friend invites me somewhere and ditches me; could get killed for all he knows.”

He rested his arm over her shoulder, kissing the top of her head somewhat affectionately, “We’ll just have to make sure that doesn’t happen then.”
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