Party Poison

You couldn't decide whether you hated it or not. Drowning yourself in hazy cigarette smoke and shitty gas station beer, laughing and getting drunk with none other than Party Poison, leader of the Fabulous Killjoys.

You cared about them. A lot. But did they care about you? God, you didn't know, and that fact was driving you fucking crazy. Sure, they flirted with you- almost all the time- spouting dirty comments that either made you laugh, or your ears turn red- but that could mean nothing. Or so you thought.

Cliché, but they did care, although they refused to admit it. Liked you beyond simply blowing off steam by smoking or making out. They were just shit with feelings, unfortunately.

Hence, today. They sat with their feet kicked up on one of the many tables in the abandoned Diner they lived in with the other Killjoys, who were out doing god knows what. They were looking across the table at you, eyes glossy from nicotine and whatever else they'd been consuming, a stupid grin decorating their face.

They cracked a dirty joke. You laughed, as per usual. They stared longingly at you, like a fucking idiot. God, they needed to switch up this conversation- but inappropriate jokes were so much easier than talking about their feelings.