The bus was nearly full as I stepped inside, as colorless and nonreactive as neon, destined to be an invisible noble gas. I quickly study every detail, being the analytical thinker I am.
Seats made of iron, windows made of potassium and sodium and people made of a molecule I couldn't quite understand. Quantum physics came as easily as breathing, but I could not figure out humans to save my life.
My people skills were severely lacking, which proved to be fatal as the bus lurched and I was thrown into the uranium seat next to one of the most attractive men I'd ever seen. His smirk was studded with a lip piercing and his copper hair was untidy but lovely all the same. I felt a strong and unfamiliar urge to run my fingers through it. He has looks like liquid Mercury, extremely dangerous yet so lovely and rich.
"Um, what are you doing?" He asked, his eyes the violet color of rubidium burning as they shook me from my thoughts.
I looked up to see that my hand had betrayed me as I daydreamed and was stroking his head without my permission. I ripped it away hastily, color rising to my dark cheeks.
"Oh--uh, I'm sorry. That was an accident. It just looked really smooth and--and did you know hair is made up of carbon, oxygen, nitrogen and sulfur?" I did a mental face-palm at my attempt to save the awkward situation. As usual, I only made things worse.
I cut him off before as he opened his mouth to speak. "I'm sorry, I'm better at science than people."
Thoughtfulness melts his face in an adorable way that reminds me of lead softening under heat. "But wouldn't that also make you good with people?"
He elaborates on this and I could listen to him talk all day, his voice like the oxygen I crave for. "We're all made up of molecules, and easily broken down into the simplest life forms. Everyone is walking and talking proof of the simplicity, yet complication, of science."
I drink this is in as he laughs, the quick and tinkling sound of test tubes chiming together. "So you're pretty good at chemistry?"
I nodded. "Then let's conduct a science experiment," He says, scooting closer. "What kind of reaction would we have if we went out for dinner later?"
"I think positive feedback would occur, but I would definitely need to test this theory at once," I say with mock seriousness before smiling.
"Let's head to the lab straight away." He grinned widely. "Can I test one more theory?" I nod and he takes my hand, and we combine like lithium and fluorine.
To anyone else, we'd be two boys holding hands. But we see ourselves as we truly are. We're simply made of molecules, only not bouncing around in space because we've found something to latch onto.
A dark room.
A chair with a girl sitting on it, her hands and feet bound with rope.
A college aged man sat across from her. A pen tapped on a rickety table, the other hand resting on the gun the girl brought.
The girl smirked, knowing the man wanted answers. Answers she had, but would never admit to having. This emo-wannabe was too...normal for her tastes.
In frustration, the emo ran a hand through his styled hair. He tried to get answers for hours, but to no avail. The girl wouldn't break.
"You know what you did," he mumbled into his hand. "Let's make this simpler for the both of us."
She laughed. "Oh, Sammy. What would be simple would be letting me go. I don't have what you want."
'You have answers,' a voice in her head sang.
'Shut up, Andy." Another voice said.
Sam interrupted with, "You getting away involves killing me."
Killing him. He knew that once upon a time, he had been on her hit list. His girlfriend had been, too.
Now, things were different.
"I don't want to kill you," she chirped. "I can't live without you. You're the Batman to my Joker. We keep one another in line."
"You're insane, Ace." Sam stated.
"I prefer the term 'mad'." Ace laughed.
"Insane is insulting, madness is a compliment."
"How did you kill my girlfriend and all those innocents?" Sam muttered.
"Multiple different ways. I never used guns. Torture...brought me the most joy," she chirped again.
'We like the throwing stars and the ripping of throats," Andy said.
"Why did you bring that?" Sam questioned, pointing at the gun.
"Because," she said, her hands inching towards the gun. "If worse came to worse, I wanted to go out with a bang."
In the blink of an eye, Ace grabbed the gun with her bound hands. Sam did nothing as she brang the gun to her right temple.
She shot him a Joker-like smile.
"I'm insane. I'm mad. I'm....PSYCHO." Ace screamed at the top of her lungs.
A loud bang echoed in the dark room.
Sam stood on weak legs. Before Ace had pulled the trigger, he had noticed something on her right hand. Walking over to her limp body, Sam examined her right hand. In elegant cursive, there was one word on her hand.
True to her word, Ace was truly PSYCHO.
"We don't want to work with you anymore." I said casually and slid the contract over at our producer- Raphael Herondale, owner of one of the most influential record company in the country and our manager. Dressed in a crisp grey suit, and hair neatly combed, his lips pursed in a tight smile.
I looked at my left and saw Brian- totally only my bandmate and nothing more that. Calmness evident in his eyes and dark hair unkempt. He caught my eyes and smiled a bit. I smiled and turned to look at our manager.
"Just accept our resignation, and it'll be all over." Tori said and Astoria- her twin nodded in agreement.
Raphael ignored Tori and turned his attention to Brian as he smiled "When." He said "Did you last hear from your sister?" He cocked his eyebrows.
Brian didn't reply. His silence was the answer.
"Called her ten times atleast?" Raphael said, his voice calm, yet so deadly.
"What have you done to her?" Brian said, his voice trembling slightly.
"Nothing." Raphael chuckled. "Yet."
Brian slumped back in his chair and I took a deep breath. Raphael then turned to gaze lazily at the twins. "And what about you, Victoria and Astoria? Heard from your parents since a week?"
Tori blinked her eyes, while Astoria looked at her feet and didn't say a word.
"After you cancelled the tour in Minneapolis, I knew you'd do something like that." He grinned. "I decided to strike back and held something you love as a bait"
He then scanned all our grim faces and smirked. "I'm a busy man." He grabbed our resignation paper and crumbled it into a ball. "So I think this is your cue to leave and practice for the concert in Dallas." He threw the paper ball, and it fell right in the bin. A perfect shot. Something as perfect as everything he does.
All of us silently stood up, defeated. We made our way to the door.
Suddenly I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned back. A familiar pair of blue eyes bore into mine.
"I know your secret." He breathed in my ear, his tone calmly menacing. "And it would only take me a minute to spread it in the media."
"W-what do you mean?" I gulped.
"Oh you know very well what I mean." He smelt of roses and cigarettes.
So he knew.