Outsiders

I started to wonder why I ever put myself through this, why the hell I even returned the favour of pleasuring John, his disgusting cum dripping from my hand. Sure as hell he'd been good at what he did, but that was all. To need to see and hear him in these sort of ways almost brought my happiness right back down at the bottom again. But it all paid off when I saw that face of the faggot down the alley way, crying as fucking always, hair hanging in his face, although I did see a little blood underneath his matted hair. Oh yeah, my friends had already taken care of him. I waved at him, sure for him to understand what I had done to his apparent crush. Jeez, I didn't see how anyone could like John that much. It was stupid. Stupidity never paid off. Fools get punished. Downright, it gave me a hobby. Call it a pleasure in violence, being a sadist, I didn't give a fuck. In these moments I was the ruler of the world and it was the greatest feeling ever.

Then again, control and pain were my two favourite things, and I had them both right now. Sure, maybe I had only yet to inflict control over John, but he’d get his pain eventually. Maybe him and the little freak of a faggot who longed for him like a whining bitch could cry together in the dark, outsiders tended to stick together like that. Well, maybe outsiders was a little light – they were two faggots, and faggots took comfort in knowing they were not alone. I was pretty sure John was into all that lame emotional bullshit, but he fucking better not expect any of that whiney crap from me. I never got the point of that. Even the girls I fucked insisted on me staying for ‘cuddles’ as they oh so fucking affectionately called it. I just didn’t prefer company like that, sure John was good with his mouth, but he wasn’t the first to be on his knees for me, and he certainly would not be the last.

I looked down at the sniveling little wreck down by my feet, his eyes still staring blankly at the opening of the alleyway where the faggot had left the package. I wrinkled my nose and scowled. He was disgusting. He was a disgusting sniveling little creature that pined for attention that I wasn’t going to give. He didn’t deserve anything, he was pathetic, and I felt contaminated. I didn’t want to even be near him, and lucky for me, I wouldn’t have to for much longer. Although he did have a good mouth, an extremely good one at that, I’d rather not have to put up with the pitiful excuse for a kid.

But, it was worth it.

I’d always had some weird fucking thing against Kenneth. Well, it wasn’t quite weird, infact, it wasn’t weird at all. He’d had a picture fucking perfect child hood, his parents doting on his every whim, every toy he wanted was in the palm of his hand, and everyone in the fucking neighborhood loved him. But I must say, it was funny how things changed, right? It was petty and stupid, but I had always been jealous of that one tiny factor. That one little fact he had actually had a good childhood. When what had I had? I’d been used as a fucking punch bag for half my life. I’d walked in on my mother passed out in her own vomit and my father with a harem of cheap hookers, it wasn’t exactly the storybook life most people thought all fucking kids had in this washed up town. People had told me to let it go, but why the fuck should I? When I had a living hell for my life as a kid, what gave him the right to be happy all his goddamn life? Everyone deserved suffering in their life, no matter whom they were. I had enough of it myself; no one should be allowed to live a perfect life. Or rather, a perfect lie.

I had seen so much, so much crap, so much bullshit, so much fucking suffering, and people who had known me in my youth assumed it would make me, what they called, a kind hearted person. That was bullshit. Anyone with a kind heart was just naïve to the pains of the world. There would always be people suffering, no matter how much a person tried to do, they couldn’t stop that.

I’d actually been planning this for a while, it was no simple whim or change of attitudes that I decided to pay attention to the whiney little guitarist shit, nothing I ever did was that simple. Any fool with a pair of eyes could see the way Kenneth looked at John. The way he would look at him when he thought he was reading, or working, the way his face would light up when John was near – and most of all, the look when John would leave at the end of each day. Of course I’d watched, I was always watching the details. I knew his way home, I knew he passed this liquor store, and I knew he was in love with John. I had come to learn that when people were in love, the object of their affections became their whole complete world – and taking that away could destroy them. Not only emotionally, but physically too. Health could deteriorate, mental illness could bloom, and that could take a person down a thousand different routes. Sure, maybe I was being harsh, but why the fuck should I show any sympathy? Sympathy just showed weakness; and if there was anything I hate more than weakness, it was the fucking sickness of two people in love. But, two people would soon become one with a grieving heart.

I really was a cruel bastard, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t proud of it. Maybe it wasn’t exactly the normal thing to be proud of, but I’d never been proud of much – my parents made sure every little thing I thought was an achievement was crushed down into the dirt, I felt like a fucking failure as close as a few years ago. In all reality, I’d stared down the same path as Kenneth, even I hadn’t wanted to live, but I found reason. That reason was pain, as ironic as it was.

John was still sniveling down by my feet. I looked down briefly as he rubbed his eyes, tears now mixing with the other fluids running down his face. It was a cute little face, I had to admit, but the filth in every other aspect of him tarnished that look.

“Get up,” I murmured, lighting up another cigarette between my lips as I inhaled, the familiar smoke filling my lungs. I nudged his thigh a few times with my boot, but he sat still on the ground, just sniveling and his eyes fixated on the spot Kenneth had been.

“I said, get the fuck up.” I pushed my boot into his bare thigh, a small yelp coming from his mouth as he fell over onto his side, quickly brushing the dirt off himself and pulling himself off he ground – yanking up his jeans to cover the little dignity he still had left. Ha. If he even had any to start with.

“You’re a little fucking faggot you know that.” I leaned to his face, blowing a curl of smoke at him as he cringed back, his face scrunching him as he coughed heavily. I only replied with a harsh laugh, my fingers clenching around his jaw as I smirked at his efforts to move out of my grip. “And faggots listen to their superiors.”

“Why are you treating me like this? I did what you wanted, I-“ he stuttered, falling over his words as he tried to squirm, his weak fingers trying to pry at my grip as my own just clenched tighter. “Is this how you treat your friends?”

“Friends? HA.” I scoffed, the thought that he even thought I would consider him a friend was disgusting but also hilarious at the same time. What a pathetic needy, whiney little boy. “You were nothing more than a worthless whore to me, a mere tool to get what I wanted.”

I let go of his chin, watching with pleasure as he stumbled back, more tears spilling over onto his dirt stained cheeks as his eyebrows knitted together. His eyes kept trying to meet mine, as if begging me to somehow care about him. Oh, he wasn’t just worthless – he was stupid too.

“I only wanted to hurt that little faggot of yours, and my god it worked far better than planned.”

To say the least, I was more than surprised when I saw something flash across John’s eyes, something that wasn’t calm or placid, but a flash of white-hot rage. He kicked off the wall, and before I could even laugh in his face I felt his fist connect with the side of my jaw. My cigarette dropped out of my mouth onto the concrete and my head snapped to the side, my hair falling in my face as I heard his heavy breathing. I turned my head back to him, lifting my fingers to the side of my lip to find a steady trickle of blood running down my chin.

“You little disobedient shit.”

“Is this how you treat your friends?” His voice was hoarse. The little shit had been crying of course.

“A friend implies I care about you, and in reality, I don’t give a shit.” I laughed ever so slightly, looking up at him with disbelief. He clenched his fists by his sides, but I wouldn’t let him even take a chance with me again. I pushed myself up against him, feeling his hot breathe on my neck, but it wasn’t anything similar to the type he wanted just hours before. My hand closed against his throat, lifting his flimsy little body up against the wall.

“Don’t you fucking understand me? You never meant anything, you’re a worthless little shit that no one cares about. Not even that precious little faggot of yours would give a shit.” My hand tensed tighter, his face turning red with a mix of anger and the lack of oxygen, but all the time I could see those tears well in those eyes of his. But I could also see a panic. A panic that I would go too far, a panic that was unfounded.

I’d never let him out of the huge fucking hell he was about to go through when he knew what little old Kenneth was about to do. Little innocent Kenny had been taking out a lot of sleeping pill prescriptions. Oh, innocent little Johnny was in for a hell off a time.

I dropped him back down, his eyes bulging and gasping for breath as I simply stared down, kicking the package Kenneth left for him by his feet. I tossed a few dollar bills his way, he was simply a whore after all, he would never amount to more.

“I thought you liked me,” he was almost whimpering as he looked up at me, his hands rubbing his throat as his hair fell in his face. I wasn’t a fool, I knew I had hurt him – and a hell of a lot – but I didn’t have the heart to care. “I really thought you fucking liked me Tim…”

“Life’s a bitch Lowery, and I’m just the beginning, trust me-“ I paused, leaning close to him once again, his jaw clenching as I ran my finger down his pale face. “I am just the beginning.”

He pushed away from me, yanking on his discarded jacket before reaching down to grab the package the little freak had left him. I met his eyes as he walked by me, his narrowing while I just kept up that perfect little smirk of mine, even when he had the sheer nerve to turn and spit on my boots. I didn’t even care, he was about to go through so much more.

“But let me tell you, oh my little Johnny, you’ve been so blind.”

He turned at the sound of his name, his eyes narrowing and his arms clenching around the package gripped closely to his chest.

“What the fuck do you even mean, Tim? Blind to what you were doing to me? Blind to your-“

I scoffed, rolling my eyes at his attempts to be clever as he stamped his foot like a young child who didn’t get what he desired that day.

“Kenneth’s been in love with you this whole time, did you not see the way he looked at you? Or maybe the way he lost weight when you left him. Stephen notices things you know, almost as much as I, and he did happen to see a fair few scars littering his skin-“

I was cut off by a list of profanities from the blonde, coming up towards me and screaming careless insults at me as I simply just reached into my jacket to re light a cigarette he had dampened out.

“Oh you foolish child, open that note on the top of the package Lowery, go on, curiosity gets to the best of us.”

He was silent for a moment before snatching the note from beneath the string, his nimble fingers tearing the envelope as his eyes scanned the tear stained paper for just a moment before he turned, wide eyed, back up to my gaze. He staggered back, his head shaking in disbelief.

“Tick tock Johnny, tick tock. Time’s running out for little Kenny, but then again, maybe you’re too late…”

I felt John’s cold spit against my face before he turned on his heel and ran off towards the freak, but I knew his efforts were in vain. Oh, he was about to feel more pain than he could ever imagine.