A/N: This is my very first attempt at writing an original fiction in English. I wish to improve my skills as a writer so please read and review. I would love some constructive criticism. However, if you don't have the time or interest to leave a long review, it may be just a word or two, as well, to let me know at least someone reads this.

Warnings for the whole fic: male/male relationships (although, I fail to see the point in warning about this, but it's here for the ones not so open-minded), language, drug and alcohol use, some weirdness, implied abuse and other things that some might find offensive.


Perhaps it was the way the priest looked at me that made me feel this sick kind of contentment. As our gazes met, I could see his eyes telling me how great of a fool I was if I truly believed I could get some sort of forgiveness just by going to the church. A demon. That's what he still saw in me after all these years. Maybe I was one. All the same, I wasn't there to be forgiven by him or anyone else who knew me. No, I didn't feel the need to be forgiven. Perhaps that was the real reason as to why his eyes narrowed in annoyance as they studied me. Just the mere sight of his brow furrowing ever so slightly over my indifference had the corners of my mouth tugging upwards. This, of course, made him scowl harder until he realised he was in the middle of a sermon. He turned his attention swiftly back to the other listeners, obviously trying to forget I was even there.

I stood from my seat quietly and slid my little notebook and pen into my pocket, making my way to the end of the long pew. I glanced back at the priest once more and caught him looking at me out of the corner of his eye disapprovingly. I certainly wasn't on his list of favourite people. I didn't mind though. I cast him a bright smile that quickly turned into a sort of mischievous smirk. He turned his gaze elsewhere.

I walked down the aisle, my hands in my pockets, avoiding any eye contact with anyone interested enough in paying attention to the freakish boy dressed in all black with a devious smirk on his face. Not many actually noticed. The priest was a pretty good speaker despite not being awfully clever. Then again, he was starting to get old, too.

Outside the air was cool, fresh even. The traffic of the town hadn't completely poisoned it yet. Someday it would, but not today and maybe not even tomorrow. I was smiling again as I pulled my coat tighter around myself and continued walking.

I hated Sundays. Everywhere was dead on Sundays. Except for the church, that is. I didn't go to church every Sunday, mind you. That was something I just did when I was extremely… well, disturbed. Yeah, that would be it. Then again, now I wasn't extremely disturbed, I felt at peace – sort of. I guess I can't explain myself well. That, however, is nothing too surprising.

I noticed I was looking at the ground when I heard a familiar female voice coming from somewhere near me.

"I'll call you later tonight, ok?" the voice told someone cheerfully. A set of shivers ran down my spine. I looked up to see the bitchiest cheerleader in school standing just a few feet away from me, biding a boy around my age goodbye.

"Yeah," the boy replied rather unenthusiastically and I couldn't resist the urge of imagining him adding a bored "whatever" at the end. He didn't, though, and I must admit I was a tad disappointed.

The said cheerleader, Priscilla Kelsey, turned around with a huge smile on her face and walked away at a quick pace without sparing me a glance. I guess I could be invisible if I wanted to.

I turned to look back at the boy, finding him staring at me curiously. I felt like saying something about how rude it is to stare, but then I realised I didn't exactly mind. So, I decided to just stare back. Soon a small smirk crept onto the boy's lips as he folded his arms over his chest and leant slightly against a mailbox next to where he was standing apparently on his own yard. He let his eyes leave mine to examine every inch of my body carefully. I raised an eyebrow. He was checking me out and wasn't even trying to hide it. Again, I chose to mimic his actions, taking in his appearance.

He was dressed in dark greyish jeans and a plain white button up shirt with no coat on top. His build was athletic yet slender, and he was perhaps a few inches taller than me. He had very light blonde hair reaching over his shoulders, and when I finally fixed my eyes back to his, I noticed just how captivating they were. The colour of his eyes was something of a very light hazel mixed with bits of other colours making it look almost a pale shade of yellow. The look in his eyes was very cold although he was still smiling, now a bit tauntingly. Somehow, I found it all very fascinating. Overall, you could say he was good looking, if not even beautiful.

The boy straightened up and took a short step sideward, away from the mailbox. He nodded slightly in what I assumed was greeting. I nodded back. Now he grinned playfully, his eyes lighting up.

"Wanna come in?" his melodic voice inquired, this time holding a bit more emotion than earlier. For a moment I just kept watching him, pondering whether he was being serious. When his expression refused to show any signs of faltering, I decided to go with the flow, as they say.

"Sure," my firm answer seemed to please him since his grin broadened a bit and he turned around, his hair floating along with the movement.

"Come," he told me and I obeyed. Not because he told me to but simply because I had nothing better to do.

As we walked towards the house in silence, I noticed it was actually more like a mansion. The yard was huge and I could swear there was a swimming pool on the other side of the house. I would have been very surprised if there wasn't. The house itself had two storeys but it still was so huge and luxurious it was obvious the family living there was very wealthy.

I restrained the urge to snicker. So that was the explanation to the boy's behaviour. He was just a poor rich kid probably trying to cope with the fact that his parents spent most of the time working on the other side of the world, only coming home every once in a while to throw him wads of money to spend on boring video games and – in this case, as I was sure – way too expensive whores. Kids like him would do anything to get back at their parents and maybe, just maybe on the side get some excitement in their overly boring lives. They would even, say, invite a total stranger in without a second thought.

The house was as fancy on the inside as it had been on the outside. Everything was so clean it almost sparkled and not a single thing seemed to be misplaced. In addition, as I already guessed, the house was dead silent, meaning no one except the poor rich kid was at home. I was a bit disappointed once again. Somehow, I had hoped this kid would not be the embodiment of the person I had just a few minutes earlier described. No, never had I such luck.

The said kid glanced over his shoulder as though checking if I was still following him as he was walking up the stairs to the second floor. I returned his gaze in a bit of a nonchalant manner. He smirked slightly before turning to look ahead again. I hardly managed not to roll my eyes. I was slowly starting to wonder why exactly had I agreed to go with him. Nonetheless, I really did have nothing better to do.

"Do you want something?" the boy's voice cut my thoughts and made me realise we were in a middle-sized bedroom, most probably his. I raised my gaze to meet his. "I mean," he grinned somewhat apologetically, "would you like to have something... Water? Coke? Vodka? My brother might have some in his room..." he said as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

I shook my head, "No thanks," To be honest, I wasn't even really listening to what he was saying. Well, I was but I wasn't really interested. I had spotted a few drawings on his desk and I found them much more interesting than his voice, no matter how pleasant someone would find it to be to listen.

"Suit yourself," he said, walking up to the door, "I'm getting myself a coke. I'll be right back," and he was gone, leaving the door a bit ajar. I decided to take advantage of the alone time and check out the room. It was middle-sized, as I already had noticed, and just as neat and well kept as the rest of the house. Well, apart from the few unopened cardboard boxes in a corner. I didn't spare them much thought, though. I looked up at the walls that were completely empty. Not a single poster was attached to them. Everything was just too... simple and clean. There weren't even clothes on the floor. I sighed disappointedly. This guy was the boredom itself.

Just as I was about to turn and leave, the boy was back, holding two cans of coke in his hands. He tossed one of them in my direction and I caught it with ease.

"You don't have to drink it, I just figured I might as well bring you one, too," his voice was a bit apologetic again. I merely nodded. He was right, though, I had no intentions of drinking the coke so I didn't even bother to open it. "So, what are you doing in here?" he asked. I looked up at him as if he was stupid. I really thought he was.

"You invited me, remember?" I couldn't help feeling a bit stupid myself, too.

Now he laughed, "Oh, yeah I did, didn't I?" I suppose he wasn't expecting me to answer that.

I still did, "Yeah," I glanced around the room again, trying to look at anything but him. His surprisingly cold eyes were making me feel uncomfortable and I wasn't used to feeling uncomfortable around people. Irritated yes, but not uncomfortable.

"Oh," his voice came again seriously, "I'm sorry that the room is a bit... Well, I only moved in on Friday," I guess he was trying to explain the overly uninteresting appearance of his dear bedroom.

A thought crossed my mind and I didn't bother thinking about it further before asking, "So how come you know Priscilla then?"

He sat down on his bed, crossing his legs, "My mother lives here so I've spent some holidays and such here," I nodded absently as I walked over to his desk to look at the drawings I mentioned earlier. Faintly I realised he was still speaking, "... so I have some friends here already so it shouldn't be difficult to fit in." I nodded again as I flipped through a pile of amazingly well drawn pictures. The person who had drawn them was truly a natural talent.

"So are you two dating?" I heard myself asking. That's what I did, mostly. I asked questions. I liked questions. I was a journalist, after all. Rather, I was going to be a journalist one day.

I could imagine him looking surprised though in reality I didn't see his reaction due to me facing away from him. "Who? Me and Priscilla?" his voice didn't give away any of the possible feelings my question had probably caused. I nodded my head again slightly, pausing to observe an unusually beautiful drawing of a phoenix. Although I knew very little about art, I was perfectly able to tell that the colouring was simply hypnotising. Like it could come to life any minute now. It was flawless. "Yeah," the boy's voice captured my attention again. Partly, at least.

I smirked. The next thing he would be telling me was that he had just recently become the captain of the football team. How convenient would that have been? Because really, that is the way things are supposed to be, right? Football players do cheerleaders and vice versa. The law of nature.

Suddenly I noticed the boy had moved right behind me and was now looking over my shoulder. I inwardly cursed myself for letting my guard down. "Do you like it?" his voice sounded even more melodic now that it came right into my ear. I didn't answer. "I drew it about half a year ago and, honestly, now that I'm looking at it again I can see all the mistakes clearly and overall it looks just horrible to me," he let out a bit nervous laugh as his hand moved to hide the phoenix under the other drawings. "What do you do?" he asked. I narrowed my eyes slightly though he couldn't see it. Was he trying to get to know me?

For some reason I found it disturbing. I wasn't much of a people person. By that I don't mean I was shy, I was anything but that. I just got along with very few people. Most of them just made me feel disturbed. Actually, I made people disturbed easily.

I turned around to face the boy, "I write," was my answer to his question. His eyes lit up and the mischievous smirk returned to his lips. God, I was starting to hate that smirk. It told me he was anything but the nice, innocent guy he obviously tried to act out.

"Really?" I think his question was rhetorical again. This time I didn't answer. Instead, I merely stared back at him as he was staring at me for a good few minutes. Suddenly he stepped a little closer, leaving only little space between us. I noticed his eyes had darkened and softened, the colour being now closer to honey. If they had been captivating before, now they were irresistible. I couldn't tear my eyes off them. That is, until his lips moved just a bit, drawing my attention straight to them. He didn't say anything, though, and soon his mouth was closed again, the smirk faded away. I looked back up to meet his intense eyes. I had no idea as to why, but suddenly I wanted him so very, very much.

I'm not sure what exactly happened then, but soon I found my fingers digging into his neck while his arms around my waist were pressing our bodies tightly together and our mouths were very preoccupied with each other. His lips, as I faintly noticed, were very soft and tasted mildly of lemon. I kind of liked lemon. He backed up, pulling me with him, until he reached the edge of his king-sized bed. Gently, I pushed him down onto the mattress, breaking the kiss so that I was able to climb on top of him.

Everything seemed to happen very quickly, for soon I found myself on my back on the sheets, without my shirt on, and the completely unfamiliar boy straddling my hips. My hands seemed to work on their own, unbuttoning his shirt while he had busied himself with the buckle of my belt.

Suddenly the sound of a door slammed shut somewhere downstairs echoed through the house and the boy stopped in his tracks. A soft, almost inaudible "Shit" escaped his lips and he bit his lower lip. I heard a female voice speaking in downstairs followed by a low male voice. I didn't hear what they were talking though. Not even noticing it myself, I had turned my eyes towards the closed door of the boy's room. Now I turned to look back at the boy. His eyes were closed, a frown dominating his delicate, almost girlish, features.

"Shit," he repeated now louder, opening his eyes and quickly jumping off the bed with grace. He threw my shirt and coat at me and started to button up his own shirt, "Sorry, you must go now, quickly," he told without looking at me. It took a moment for me to recover from the surprise caused by the sudden turn of the course of events. I didn't feel pleased by it, either. Who the hell did he think he was to be allowed to give me this shit?

When ready with his clothes, the boy bent down to pick up my shoes from the floor. By now, I was also up and almost dressed. The boy held out the shoes for me with a small smile gracing his lips, "See, I'm supposed to be ill so..." he left the end of the sentence for me to figure out by myself. And I did, nodding.

When finally the room was clean of any signs of me even having been there, the boy pushed me to the window that he had opened a moment before, glancing down over the window ledge.

"Ok, you'll probably live if you jump on the roof of the porch," the boy told, turning to look at me.

I couldn't stop my eyebrow from arching in amazement, "You have got to be kidding me," I drawled, refusing to believe he was actually trying to get me to flee through the window. It made me feel cheap.

An evil grin spread across the boy's lips, "No, I'm not, and if you're not going to jump, I'm going to give you a push. The choice is really up to you. Either way, you're going down," he spoke in an irritatingly casual manner that had me wanting to strangle him then and there. I didn't, though, because I had taken my medicines that morning and was able to control myself.

Instead, I just scowled and climbed onto the windowsill, glaring at him murderously, "You're going to pay for this," I hissed at him just before there was a knock at the door.

"Honey, are you up?" a gentle female voice, the same voice from a few minutes ago in downstairs, inquired through the door, making the boy tighten his grip on my arm slightly.

"Please go," he whispered hastily, "she'll freak out if she sees you here," now he turned towards the door, "Yeah, Beth, hold on a second," his voice had regained its composure again. I sighed in frustration. He was really going to pay for making me do this. I wasn't one to mess up with.

With a final glare shot in the boy's direction, I jumped down onto the roof, making a soft thud when landing. There I glanced around to make sure no one was witnessing my rather contemptible escape. Upon seeing no one, I jumped down, landing smoothly on my legs onto the ground. I straightened up and glanced around again, quickly making my way out of the yard, to which I decided to be sure to never come back again. Not if my life depended on it.

I almost laughed as I was on my way home, walking at a slow pace because that was a place I really wasn't so keen on being in. Life, I decided, had a very strange sense of humour. Not in a good way. What on earth had possessed me to go with that boy that was obviously at least as fucked up as my life in general? Well, perhaps not. But he wasn't perfectly sane, either. Moreover, what the hell had I been thinking kissing him just like that? Now I couldn't help snickering. Sure, he was hot. I could give him that. Nonetheless, I was perfectly aware of the fact that what we did – or what we would have done had the woman not come to interrupt – was... forward would probably be an understatement.

Life doesn't work that way, does it? You can't just fuck around some strangers. Then again, everyone does it. I would lie if I said I hadn't done it before myself. Only, I had never intended doing it with another guy.

I found myself smiling ever so slightly as my pace slackened more. The funniest thing would probably be that I was pretty sure I wasn't even gay.