useduser (usedusername) wrote in straight_askew,

Just snippets. **** indicates (short period) time change.

They had two choices: Kill Randal’s mother or get an apartment.

Randal said he’d knew a guy he could buy a untraceable gun from.

But, according to Elias, shooting thy mother got you a one-way ticket to Hell.

So they got an apartment.

Quickly, actually, because Elias’ estranged uncle had connections. At least as many connections it takes to get someone into a drafty, leaky apartment.

“So, why’s he ‘estranged’?” Randal had asked as they climbed the steps of their new apartment, somehow expecting death, lawyers, and court trials.

“Because he’s Catholic.”

Randal paused. “I see.”

He didn’t.


Randal liked sleeping with Elias.

Except Elias talked when he slept.

And he never was pressed up against Randal a few seconds after they’d been entangled.

And even a week after being dropped from Mooby’s, Randal could smell the French fries and grease when his nose was pressed up against Elias’ skin.

Elias mumbled something and woke him up.

“Shut the fuck up, Elias.” Randal muttered.

Elias didn’t.

Randal decided he didn’t mind that much and pulled Elias’ mumbling, squirming, French-fry smelling body closer.


Randal liked lying in bed not-sleeping with Elias.

Even though Elias complained about the water dripping on him on his side of the bed when it rained.

“We could still kill my mom and take her house.” Randal offered, still beneath the sheets.

Elias got up and stood, pouting, in front of him.

Randal opened one eye and looked at him, “Jesus….C‘mere.” he lifted the blanket in welcoming, “But if you push me onto the wet side of the bed, I’m gonna fucking kill you.”

He somehow always did get pushed under that leak, his own body acting as an umbrella for Elias’.

Randal never could bring himself to kill him.

Randal hated it when Elias talked about Bible Camp.

Hands flailing, mouth wide and smiling, eyes sparkling, absolutely thrilled about God.

“It’s ironic you’re going to Bible Camp, what with living a life of sin, debauchery, and faggotry and all.” Randal said.

He said it just to knock that damn smile off of Elias’ face.

He succeeded.

And was sorry he did.


“I’m leaving.” Elias said.

“So what? Want me to stop you?”

Elias shuffled his feet. “Well…no.”

But Elias just stood there with his duffel bag and sad face. Randal sighed, got up, and hugged him. “Tell me if a priest makes you blow him.”


Randal smirked and let Elias go.

Randal thought he’d have a lot to do while Elias was off playing counselor to a bunch of little Jesus freaks.

Five minutes after Elias left, he started leafing through magazines.

Fifteen after Elias left, he was counting the minutes until Elias was back.


Elias hated Bible Camp.

He wasn’t sure when he outgrew it, but suddenly God, who’d meant so much to him, was a boring, sub-par replacement for life.

It worried him.

He wished he could have the God and the Bible Camp he loved back.

Then he wished he could just go home.


Elias came home a few weeks later.

“How was Bible Camp?” Randal asked while doing a crossword puzzle.

Elias sat down next to him. “It was all right… you know. We talked about God.”

“Hmm.” Randal didn’t look up, “Just so you know, you can’t go next year.”

Elias almost let out an instinctive, loud objection. Then he fell back onto the bed. “Thanks.”
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