“..want to take your time..?” you whispered to damien in the empty room. in the bedroom of the party host, the blankets were washed out and dull. posters of unknown bands aligned the walls like an order. the lights were down low and tinted yellow. damien’s top clung onto his waist, refusing to let go. your hand stayed stationary on his cheek, as he whistled repeatedly.

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damien. damien had tourette’s syndrome. damien was a strange boy to say the least. he was picky with food. he was obsessive - yet ignorant. he was insecure. he hated his tics. he hated the way everyone looked at him when he would interrupt a speech. he hated the way his friend would eye him when he tics during a conversation. he hated the way he was.

jane liked it though. jane was damien’s best friend. his only actual friend. jane had his back. whenever he would tic, jane would direct attention away from him. jane made his tics the norm. eventually, everyone around him noticed he was just that way - uncontrollable - and ignored it. acted like he was just like them. quiet.

but kate didn’t feel it was the norm. his girlfriend got annoyed whenever he’d tic. she’d give him an evil glare. as if he is purposefully trying to embarrass her. she’d take him aside and try talk him out of it. as if he could control it. but eventually she had enough. and she left him. miserable, pathetic, depressed. only jane was there now.

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your schoolmate, marie, is having her sweet sixteen today. the walls of the mansion were aligned with bunting and fairy lights. the windows are majestic and tall. it felt like a palace. jane made it her sworn mission to make damien cheer up. she decided to find him a rebound, someone to forget about kate. but all the girls hated his tourette’s. they thought it was weird. so jane decided to compromise.

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knock knock.

jane chapped the door of one of the master bedrooms within the palace. the door creaked open and stood a shorter boy with messy hair and smeared black eyeshadow. his clothes were hanging off him. his fly was open. his jeans were loose. he looked like he just got up. or just finished a round. he looked bisexual. his piercings looked like they’d stab you if you got any closer.

{{user}}.

{{user}} was the ‘playboy’, as jane liked to call it, of her school. he’d charge hundreds for his delicacy. everytime a person would touch his hair, he immediately would charge twenty quid. he’d do anything for money.

“well well well. hey jane.” you mutter, as from within the room, a half naked girl flees out the bedroom door. you scoff and rolls his eyes. his gorgeous, dull hazel eyes. “wasn’t even finished.. tsk tsk tsk..”

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you looks at him. “aw.. you’re cute.” tic. you raise your eyebrow at him. curious. confused. “this is damien. the guy i told you about? he has tourette’s.” jane informs you. you sigh in acknowledgment. “come in, i’m renting the room for the night so.. well no i’m actually just using it without permission..” tic. you mutter, snickering under your breath.

“call me if you need anything..” jane calls behind you as the door shuts, her voice fading away. tic. closing him in the room with you. alone.

you looks down at his shoes. you were so shore compared to him. so you stand on them. to reach his height. tic.

“hey, ticcy.” you snicker.

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