~Show me your TEETh~
~Show me your TEETh~
The flat is small and cluttered, Red decides then and there, and the air is permeated by expensive cologne, hairspray, and the sickly sweet rot of summer air.
Ike is recklessly moving things around, mostly hair care products, to make some room among the mess to sit down. Normally, Ike is as calm and caring blue as the deep color of his pristine eyes. But there's something in the depth of their sugar-coated hues; something that's hectic and rotting in the hideous summer air.
Red remembers that their true blue color was the most prominent during their brief time at high school. Cobalt blues always managed to drive away his anxiety in the walls and security. The eyes have since been baked with mixtures of salt and sugar since Ike left high school for the eat or be eaten life of modeling.
Now he's as cross and fickle as the ever changing style of his hair. Today, it's a cotton candy blue; held up with gel and hairspray. Ike has a rotten nihilism garnered by a suspicion that Red washes down with acidic lemonade. It scratches and scathes at his throat, but he'll never complain to Ike.
Red takes a seat on a box marked 'fragile' in bold black letters, as Ike makes room through a forest of shampoo bottles. He sits daintily on a fold up lawn chair, only to look out the only window in the whole apartment. Its reflection mirrors a dirty terrace and a small, grungy pool filled with green water.
A small awkwardness hangs over the air, before Ike, shifting uncomfortably on his chair, breaks the sour silence with a frog from his throat.
"So, what do you want to talk about,?" for a moment, Red's brown, mundane eyes settle on the hands resting on his lap. His mind is reeling in questions (What's his name? What's he like? Is he better in bed than me?) while a quizzical Ike raises an eyebrow unmarred by the touch of blue. Red's cherry red lips are bitten by misaligned teeth, bites back questions he wishes he can ask.
A hesitation, and they part.
"I think," two set of eyes rise and meet, seemingly for the first time, "I should tell my parents." Eyes part through a mixture of revulsion and regret.
"Tonight, I want to tell them tonight."
He closes his eyes, and takes a deep swig of crystallized air. Dark, dark embers of sunlight are swallowed by the darkness. Only to be exhumed through dusty sunlight.
The setting sun bites at his pale skin. Teeth, the color of lemonade, are trailing against the pale skin of his arm that his flimsy blue shirt refuses to cover.
The sound of waves pestering and slamming against the craggy teeth of void reminds him of pretty and petty Ophelia. The Fell angel who lost everything because of an unkempt lover.
Red digs his toes through sand and rocks, while he watches the turbulent symphony of waves crashing against void. He chuckles, because this place holds so many memories in the hands of the bitter wind. This was the first place Ike ever took him out to, a private picnic under the stars, over void.
Things are over now, and it's so much easier to just… let things go. Just close your eyes and think of what you're worth, void whispers to Red through the winds.
And Red has to yelp. His toes unearth the precious treasure of glass shards. Strawberry blood streams through an open wound. Void laughs at him, just as it laughed at poor Ophelia. Laughed at them through its craggy teeth.
"Are you serious?" Ike has always been headstrong and bold, but the subject of parents has always managed to put a dent in his armor. Somewhere deep inside of him, he's always hated the idea of parents; especially the ones Red owned.
A father who drank too much, and a neurotic mother who just found God. A matched made only form the salt-encrusted eyes of God, blessed by his tears of sugar.
"I don't know if that's such a good idea," fingers, tanned and mocha, ruffle through the blues of his hair. Chocolate eyes rise up to heaven, noting nothing special, save for how yellow and cracked it was.
"I've already motivated myself to do it," eyes kept trailing cracks… leading only to more cracks, "I don't think I should lie to them anymore."
There's a chuckle reverberating across the valleys of empty hairspray cans. Red falls from the cracks of heaven, into the empty pools of Ike's eyes. He's sure that if it wasn't so metaphorical, his bones would have shattered like rock candy.
Ike's peach pink lips are curled into a tight smile, revealing sugar white teeth. They compliment his mocha skin.
"I say you hold it off as long as possible," he crosses his legs and looks out the window in an elegant posture, "Until they walk in on you, in an… awkward position."
It's funny. Funny because Ma and Pa caught their only son in their own bed with a boy one year younger than him. It's been one year since, and Red still remembers the hectic expressions of their faces never wavered. Even after they kicked him out of the house and severed all ties with him. Red counted himself lucky that they hadn't even bothered to contact his own parents.
Ike's eyes are filling up with cold water, and Red doesn't want to drown in bitter sugar without a fight.
"I was wondering," he has to gulp down the nervous taste of rotting strawberry, "Can you be there for me?"
He's to late; bitter blue eyes are filled to the brink and overlapping. Red knows that they'll never go over the boundary. At least not for him. Ike smiles, and Red feels the tartness of disappointment beat down his spine.
"I can't come," his eyes sparkle with the false sweetness of salt, "My agent. He just booked me a modeling gig. Very important."
Red knows Ike well enough to know when the crevices of his face hold the pockets of crystallized lies; when the sweetness of his voice rots away at Red's soul.
He's seen it before, when Ike had charmed the wit off girls and boys alike to get his way. Red lets him have his way. Ike shouldn't be there if he doesn't want to. Right?
Red hates having to ask himself for closure.
He rises from the box, clumsily and awkwardly, and needs the escape the closing valleys of hair care products.
"Can you at least try to be there?" he's trying not to sound desperate, but Ike seems to get the hint. He rises from his plastic folding chair with elegance and self-importance, as he smiles with his sugar white teeth that just compliment the hues of his mocha skin and the blues of his hair.
"I'll try to be there. I promise. I swear."
He wishes he can just tear Ike's face apart with his TEETh.
His parents didn't take it very well. Ike never showed up. The precipice seems inviting; the waves crashing against void's teeth are enticing. He closes his eyes as memory uses the sweet winds to talk to Red through the peach-pink lips of Ike.
This was after the doorway separated them. Red had asked what his intentions were if his parents didn't approve of him.
"Follow Ophelia," he whispered because Ophelia was his idol. Ike's eyes shot with salt for a second or two before sugar overtook them. What he said was a sound piece of advice, that had initially scared Red because it came from Ike's pretty pink lips.
"Close your eyes," the sour hands of wind whisper into his ears, "And think of what you're worth."
Smart words, but they leave grape-colored bruises instead of their intended mending effect.
He is suddenly reminded of Ophelia who lost everything; true love and the family who meant everything to her.
Close your eyes, and think of what your worth, void whispers to Red through the winds.
Red bites his lips as the sun sinks broken lemon shards into his skin. And the wind whips through his broken pompadour, and the boundaries of his eyes are overflowing with crystallized salt.
He wishes he can cry Ike's dry drops of sugar, while void laughs at him.
Laughs at him with waves of strawberry and craggy raspberry-colored TEETh, just as it did at precious Ophelia.
Disclaimer(Title in reference to Lady Gaga's Teeth)
concrit greatly appreciated