Wherefore Art Thou Romeo? ✓

twelve

Winter 2017 / twelve

TW: mentions of violence, drug usage, somewhat sexually explicit content

RODNEY, NOT FOR the first time, tasted like blood. The wall of the cramped bathroom was pressing hard and cold against Romeo's flexed shoulder blades, and one of the bulbs in the ceiling light was broken, casting dim shadows over the black tiles, but he kept kissing Rodney anyway- even if it was all tongue and teeth, rough biting and desperately grabbing each other. His fingers were twisting into Rodney's dark, wild hair and the crown of his skull was pushed against the wall as Rodney bit his neck and drew his quick, eager tongue over his throat, gripping his waist; nails digging into his hip bones until they were pressed with half-moons.

It was only when Rodney's left hand tightened and his right hand wandered to Romeo's jeans, brushing his hands over the zipper and then unfastening the button, that Romeo held a hand to the back of his head, kissed him hard for a long second and then shoved him away.

He looked beautiful. His dark hair was tousled and his dark eyes, the thin irises swallowed by his blown-out pupils, were glittering, too bright and burning for the dull light, with lust and violence which, for Rodney, were almost the same thing. His breath was fast and harsh, his chest rising and falling like waves crashing and dying. His jaw was locked with impatient confusion and that terrible bruise on his face had faded to a sickly combination of dark, waxen yellow and murky green; a shadow stamped as a reminder of the once deep, bursting fusion of red and purple, its pulse beating itself to death.

"There's blood on your neck," he declared, drawing his hand over his own throat while he stared at Romeo with a kind of hunger that was not lost on either of them.

"Fucking vampire," Romeo murmured, licking the tips of his forefinger and middle finger and rubbing them over the fresh blood he found above his collarbone. His voice sounded drowned and faint, the party pulsing against the other side of the door; all of the chaos hazing together. "It's from your teeth."

Rodney's teeth were still red from when he'd been punched in the face either thirty seconds or thirty lifetimes ago. With time dragging and skipping, pulling and pushing and morphing around them in the thick air, it was hard to tell. At once, everything felt sharp and real, then heavy and vague with the ambience of a dream.

Either way, Rodney's teeth were still red. He almost looked as if he'd murdered someone with them, gory pearls gleaming red. "You're welcome."

"Wash the blood out of your mouth," he frowned, sitting on the closed toilet lid next to the sink. He lifted his hand and turned the tap on, a constrained waterfall rushing out and bulleting into the basin. "It makes you look like a wild animal."

He grinned and leaned over the sink, cupping the water in his palms and lifting it to his lips. Romeo watched the movements of his face; the water shooting from side to side, his eyes dancing towards Romeo and then back to the sink, his eyebrows darting up and down.

When he spat, Romeo peered into the basin and grimaced. The water was murky, the red so dark that it almost looked like dirt, but it was instantly washed out into the drain by the water still streaming through the tap. Once more, the basin was white and the blood was swiftly forgotten.

Rodney switched off the sink and stood up, sniffing and catching the loose droplets on his lips and chin. He dried his palm against the dark, loose jeans that rested low on his hips, revealing the white strip of his underwear waistband and the Calvin Klein label across it.

Romeo's eyes lingered and Rodney, as he always did, caught him. "See something you like?" He teased, winking and pulling a baggie out of his pocket.

His gaze drifted towards the powder in the baggie. "No."