whyyy are u so cruel

lacetrees8536 — Tue, 10 Jun 2014 04:05:43 GMT

Title: ???
Chapter: 1/?
Rating: R
Pairing: Zaylor
POV: Zac
Word Count: 1,120
Summary: idk I'm too defeated rn
A/N: LJ kicked my butt tonight I'm a changed woman a little piece of my soul died the once promising luster of this antiquated, recently revamped blogging site has become tarnished the glow has faded and become spoiled by broken hearts being mistaken as rogue html code but I will not be defeated this is my night I will rise and be victorious so here's the first chapter of an actual story I'm currently working on

um, apparently, that prologue story I just posted, this is part of that. I'm pretty much sticking to the original plot, except, after months of not having a plot/not knowing where it was going/not really knowing my characters, I've finally found some substance for it, filling in the character backgrounds a little more and having somewhere for the plot to go. the only difference is I don't think there will be anymore "sam" chapters. that part always gave me trouble - how was i going to incorporate her pov? it was supposed to be an integral part of the story/plot bc there were going to be parallels drawn between her and taylor by zac. yeah you don't care I'm just trying to stall cus my chapters are so short. but yeah, same sam. yup.

Chapter 1

Ugh. It was too bright in my room. The sunlight was blazing through my closed blinds like white hot flames making my room glow. I couldn’t go back to sleep now. I would feel too damn guilty with the sun already high in the sky and my blinds apparently not enough to shroud me in darkness. The body next to me was wrapped up in my fluffy white comforter. Blanket hog. He was only wearing his boxers – maybe he got cold during the night – but I only wore my boxers too! Crouching down next to him, I poised myself on my elbows, grooming his eyebrows delicately with the tip of my finger.

“Mm, Zac. C’mere. Cuddle with me,” he mumbled as he pulled me down on top of him.

“No, I’m bored. Let’s go out.” I pushed myself up on my arms and looked down at him. His skin somehow always looked fresher in the morning – before he would wash his face and his pink lips looked puffy with how swollen they were. His lips were normally pouty, but not really puffy. It’s just a weird morning quirk of his, I guess. While I was distracted staring at him, his arm shot out and sucker punched me right in the gut, and I collapsed on top of him.

“Cuddle,” he insisted, wrapping his long arms and legs around me, making escape a struggle. I, of course, could fight my way out of his entangled limbs if I wanted to. He has two or three inches on me, but he’s a waif. He would kill me if I ever called him that to his face, but, I swear, I could encircle his waist with both of my hands if he sucked in a little.

“C’mon, man. I think it’s already like two or something,” I urged him. “Let’s get up before my mom finds out we’ve been in bed all morning.” Nothing. Not even to crack a dirty joke that I so graciously served to him on a silver platter. “You might want to get a change of clothes from your house too. Unless you want to go out half naked.” Still nothing. “I mean, I’d lend you some of mine, but I don’t think your girly body could fill out my pants.” A sharp flick to my forehead. “Seriously, Tay! We wanna get outta here before my parents come home. Ever since Sam, they’re not letting me out of their sight. I’m not even allowed to lock my door anymore, so sorry, no hanky panky during our sleepovers.” His lips twitched at that last comment, but his eyes remained closed. I placed my fingers over his mouth. “Get. Up. It’s 2:36.” His eyes shot open and he bolted up into a sitting position, bringing me up with him. Okay, so he is kinda strong.

“What?!” he scrambled off the bed, falling to his knees because his legs were still all twisted in the sheets. “Holy shit! My dad’s gonna be home in 25 minutes!” he squeaked as he crawled around on the floor, grabbing his jeans and grasping for his other sneaker that was somehow halfway under my bed. In thirty seconds, he was pulling on his t-shirt and grabbing my hand, pulling me towards the door as he flew down the stairs. I think he only bothered to use the first step before he jumped the other six into the living room. Neither of us had a car, so he was sprinting the one and a half miles it took to get from my house to his. He was all arms and legs as he took off down the street. I meandered down the empty driveway after him.

Ten minutes later, I was in front of his house, leaning against the garage door. It was hot outside, and I was starting to sweat, but I didn’t bother following him inside. I had been waiting about two minutes, when I saw his dad’s car turn onto their street. The pale yellow vintage mustang convertible pulled up till it was less than a foot away from me. His dad eyed me as he got out of the car.

“Hey Mr. Howell,” I smiled, taking my hand out of my pocket to wave and sliding my foot down from the white door behind me.

“Zachary,” he said slowly, pronouncing every syllable, like he didn’t know me.

Just then, Taylor swung open the front door, a dark green duffle bag stuffed like a sausage hung over his shoulder. He stopped short when he saw his dad, and I glanced back and forth between them, trying to gauge just how much trouble he was in. It was deadly silent and my heart rate picked up, pounding against my constricting chest. His dad seemed to forget I was still there as he walked over to Taylor, but I knew he hadn’t because he gripped Taylor’s shoulder tightly while whispering in his ear before disappearing through the open door into the dark house. Taylor stood rooted to the spot for a moment before moving. He came over to me with his bag, plopped it down at my feet, and told me in a breathy voice, “Uh, take this. Wait here.”

I knew it was going to be bad. I wished I would have woken up sooner this afternoon. I wished we hadn’t stayed up till three the night before. If only we had gotten here ten minutes earlier.

Twenty minutes later, Taylor came out. He was looking down at the ground and his hair was in his face, but I could still see the bruising on his cheekbone and the ugly cut marring his bottom lip. He didn’t say anything when he got to me. He just picked up his duffle bag and started off down the street. I guess back to my house.

The only sound heard was the gravelly scraping of our sneakers as they shuffled along the street. We didn’t talk. I knew he wouldn’t want to. When we were almost to my house, I turned to him and asked, “Hey, um… wanna go somewhere? We could go… catch a movie or um, hang out by the tennis courts. I hear the skate park’s almost finished. We could go check it out.” I didn’t want to tell him that if my parents saw his face I wouldn’t be allowed to hang out with him anymore. They knew Taylor had a penchant for trouble. He just looked at me with blank eyes, and then turned and headed towards my backyard, concealing his bag behind the large maple that stood off to the side, before standing in front of me. “Where to?”

idk what to put here

whyyy are u so cruel