And Therefore Is Wing'd Cupid Painted Blind

Age 16

Rogue lies contently on Sting’s bed, a vinyl record cover in his hands as he sings along softly to the music that fills the room.

“Quick tell me which colour.” Sting yells as soon as he flings the door open to his room. He stands there in tight black jeans and no shirt, a strained look on his face as he stares at Rogue, urging him to make a decision for him. “Quickly, grey or white?”

Rogue rolls onto his side slowly, placing the vinyl in front of him on the bed. “Well, what look are you going for?” he says, feigning interest.

Sting looks at him, hoping that the look on his face is enough to convey to Rogue just how stupid that question is.

Rogue remains silent.

Sting sighs, “I’m just trying to look good okay.”

Rogue rolls onto his back again, not caring about what Sting wears because quite frankly he looks amazing in anything.

Sting walks over to the bed, still holding the two shirts in his hands, “Please just pick one, I value your opinion.” He’s giving him puppy dog eyes now, dear lord.

“The grey one, the colour looks good on you.” Rogue answers, giving Sting an ‘are you satisfied now?’ look.

A grin spreads across Sting’s face as he leaps up throwing the white shirt on the floor and pulling the grey one over his head. “Thanks Roguie, you’re the best.”

“Don’t call me that,” Rogue mumbles, pretending to read the vinyl cover to hide his reddening cheeks.

“Come on, go fix your hair and then we’ll leave,” Sting says, shoving Rogue off the bed and into his ensuite.



The house is a mess. There’s people lying on the couches, empty bottles and half-filled cups litter the floor, the tables and the cabinets. Rogue stands in the front doorway with Sting feeling immediately uncomfortable. He grabs Sting’s arm gently, whispering to him.

“Are you sure we should be here? It looks a little out of control.”

Sting looks down slightly, giving Rogue a small reassuring smile before grabbing his hand with his own, pulling him into the crowded lounge room. “It will be fun, I promise.”



Rogue finds himself some time later sitting on a stool in the kitchen, a bottle of beer balancing in his lap; and not entirely sure how he ended up there. He looks slowly around the room his head spinning slightly from the movement; he needs to find Sting. He stands up quickly, too quickly forcing him to grab the bench for support as he stumbles. He makes his way out of the sea of people in the kitchen, only to be met with another sea when he enters the lounge room. People bump into him with not so much as a sorry as he stands in the doorway. He moves into the room, his eyes moving frantically hoping to catch a glimpse of Sting’s unruly blonde hair. After a few moments of searching this room Rogue turns around ready to continue his search in one of the many other rooms when he spots him.

Sting stands near the wall, he’s talking to someone, from where Rogue stands it looks to be a girl only slightly shorter than sting with the same shade of blonde hair. She’s standing with her back against the wall as Sting leans towards her, he must have said something because the girl laughs as a slight shade of pink spreads across her cheeks. Rogue stands rooted to the spot not able to turn away from them. Sting suddenly dips his head, catching the girl’s lips in a kiss. Rogue quickly whips his head away not wanting to see anymore; just as he takes an unsteady step away from the two he hears his name.

“Rogue!”

Rogue looks back in their direction slowly, only to see Sting waving at him over the crowd with the girl hugged up against his side. Rogue reluctantly makes his way over to them.

“There you are, I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Sting slurs slightly, pulling Rogue into a hug which turned out awkwardly as the girl is still pressed against him.

“Yeah I can see that,” Rogue murmurs, not caring about sounding rude.

Sting grins at him, “Well, I guess I did get a little side tracked.” The girl stares up at Sting giggling.

Rogue eyes shift between them, his mouth clenched shut as bile rises in his throat. “I think I’m just going to go home.”

“What! Why? The night is still young.” Sting says shocked.

Rogue stares down at his watch. “Well actually it’s two in the morning, so I’m going to go home to bed. I’ll just see you back there, okay?” He turns, heading for the front door, not waiting for Sting to answer him.

Sting stands there for a moment watching his best friend disappear through the crowd, Lucy is still attached to his side and he smiles down at her. “I’m sorry, but I think I better go as well.” He detaches her from him and begins to follow Rogue, he turns around quickly to shout back, “I’ll call you tomorrow.” Before running to catch up with his friend.

Sting exits the house as quickly as he can, squeezing past the other drunken people blocking the door. He hits the street in a run, hoping that Rogue hasn't wondered off too far. It’s not long before he spots him, hands in his pockets and head down low as he walks the dark street to Sting’s house all alone. With a huge grin on his face Sting picks up his running pace getting right behind Rouge and wrapping his hands around his eyes.

“Guess who.” He yells in delight, as Rogue stumbles slightly to the side in fright. The only reason they both don’t fall onto the pavement is because Sting somehow manages to keep both of my balanced.

Rogue removes Sting’s hands from his eyes, looking at him. “What are you doing?”

Sting pouts at Rogue, “you didn't guess.”

Rogue isn't in the mood to humor drunken Sting at the moment, so he stares.

“What kind of friend would I be if I let you walk home alone in the dark? With a face like yours I’m sure someone would try to steal you.” Sting replies slightly annoyed at Rouge’s seriousness, but still links his arm through Rogue’s so they can continue walking. “And also the small detail of you staying at my house and you don’t have a key to get in.”

Damn, Rogue had forgotten about that.

“Now I have you all to myself tonight, no one else will get their hands on you.”

Rogue can’t even manage a small smile at Stings words, the image of him kissing that girl still fresh in his mind. All he can do is hold onto Sting’s arm tighter and pray that he never has to let go.