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      You remember meeting him for the first time,
it is a memory loud and clear that echoes back in your head every once in a while. He was wearing the same bright orange jumpsuit as you, not as bright as his skin of course, but still enough to make you wonder how he could possibly be against burning it off. Especially since he had the possibility to use a very obvious excuse if it ended up being against the rules.

He looked you up and down, or at least that's what you got from the way his head tilted, he didn't have a pair of eyes to confirm it. He didn't even had lips, but to you it felt like he was smirking. It sent something to your heart, you couldn't decipher if it was good or bad. You crossed your arms over you chest, trying to stop him from doing whatever it was that he had being doing. Not knowing that he was more clueless than you. You stared blankly at him and at all the other monsters in front of you, daring them to say something.

Two guards stood, one on each of your sides. One of them used their gun to push you forward, even thought there wasn't much that guns could have done against you. "New friend, be nice" spoke the other, hint of amusement in his tone. It made you roll your eyes.

They left the room, closing the door behind them, leaving you alone with the others. As soon as the guards where out of sight all the monsters turned around, going back to focus on their things and opting to ignore you in the meanwhile. All but one. You were all but against that, actually happy to not be stared at nor drowned in questions. You let your arms fall at your sides as you walked forward toward your cell, the skull head turned to follow you with his gaze.

You didn't see each other for the following three weeks.

      You remember the first time you two talked.
You were sitting down at a table, head laying on your palm as you tapped your fingers on your chin. During your stay you had exchanged words with some half-fish girl, who was far too concentrated on making friends to realize that it actually wasn't the place where you could find them. A robot had dared to ask you more then one time a day if there were any nazis that he could have killed, but (Sadly) you had to told him no. The only one who had stuck around, following like a shadow, was a strange animal that looked like a dog with the skeleton of a man.

In that moment, it was laying down on the bench, right near you. It was huffing in its sleep, letting out small growls and moving its paws around as it kept its eyes closed. It didn't look as if it was resting, your hand went to path its head, fingers combing through its fur. It let out a shaky breath before it finally relaxed.

"So, you can speak to animals like a fucking disney princess? That's what they define monstrous these days?" His voice came from behind you. You were unfazed by the sudden noise, eyes moving to the side to stare at the 'man' as you remained in your comfortable position.

You made it a show to look him up and down. The corner of your mouth turned upward as the answer came up to your mind, your words aimed to tease him. "Jack Skalligton! How many experiments you had to fail to end up like this?" you questioned out loud.

He set down, his hands sliding on the greyish-blue surface of the table. He turned to look at you — Again, you couldn't be too sure but the way his head had moved you figured it was just that — and your blankly stared back. He copied your position, laying his skull on his skeleton's fingers. He pointed with his chin to the creature at your side. "You know he's just a dog right?" He tilted his head over his palms, his skull was at mere centimeters from yours "Neither of you will be able to do much if someone decides that they got enough of your staring"

You tilted your head to the side, just like he had done before, and your smirk grew more evident on your face. "I can held my own" you answered sharply. There was something about him that made you want to play safe, but there was another part of him that begged you to push his buttons. For this time, you settled on the first option. Inside his head, he fought the same battle.

You tilted your head to the side, just like he had done before, you hummed unbothered before your smirk grew more evident on your face. "Did you?" you stared forward as you asked.

"Uh?"

You straightened your back, turning your head fully so you could easily look at his face. "You got enough of my staring?" your question was sincere, curiosity lacing your words. There was something more, something that came natural to push out of your lips, even if you knew that you shouldn't have.

There was a small moment of silence where he kept your gazes locked. Where you thought that you had done too much. But instead his face broke into a smirk (That's what you got from his chuckle) and he leaned forward. "Not even close" He pushed himself back up on his feet. He forced his head around before he walked away. Leaving you with a smile on your face.

      You remember the first time you fucked.
It was hard and slow. Foreheads touching as groans spilled from both your mouths. He held your hands in his, burning your skin, making you feel the pain. He was intoxicating, really, there was something about him that made you addicted. Was it his strong smell, the chemicals emitted from his body, or the pain that he kept causing you, you didn't know. But you were there, under him, and it felt like something had finally clicked in place.

In that moment it didn't matter that it was happening inside a prison. It didn't matter that you had always been known as the dark end of the alley, nor that your past was a tangle of unanswered questions. It didn't matter that your body was feeling far hotter than it should have if you had been having sex with a normal person. It didn't matter that the pain was a nice sensation that kept you anchored, nor that the burn marks on your skin were quick to disappear.

He was there, breathing sharply against your mouth. He was hitting deep inside you with something that, until that moment, you didn't even know he had. "My organs are all here, they are just transparent"—He had explained once. Now he was staring right into your eyes, telling you to keep your focus on him every time he noticed you getting lost inside that 'pretty fucked-out brain of yours'.

"Am I losing you sweetheart?" You could clearly hear the smirk through his teasing, but there was some sweetness behind that. Something that you hadn't heard in a while, something that you had forgotten. Something that begged you to tighten your grip on his hands. Something that was worth remembering.

You shook your head, forcing your eyes open as you moaned. You answered back with one simple word that, unknown to you both, would have had much more significance in the future. "Never"

      You remember the first time he spoke about his past. It was right before the guards came to drag you to your room, forcing you to go to bed. You were sitting on the ground, one near the other, backs against the wall. The other creatures had never tried anything with you, you didn't know if it was him that you should have thanked but you knew that you would have never done so anyway. You had already told him more then once, you could held your own. He had find out your power, and he didn't fully believed what you had said. You took offense in that, he knew.

But he believed in you, he believed in the way you looked at him. The way you cradled him in your arms, letting your body engulf him. The way you kept him against your chest, ignoring the smell of burnt. Ignoring the way the more he was near, the less your powers worked —You knew you didn't need them with him. You let him spill out everything against your stupid bright-orange shirt, hands cupping his head and back as you kissed the top of his skull.

He had killed his wife and kid, that's what he had told you. The guilt, the cracking in his voice. He felt responsabile for what had happened. You didn't know how things had really went but you knew that his wife wouldn't have wanted him to think of himself like that. You told it to him, but you quickly figured that, in that moment, all that you wanted to say was pointless.

He didn't need reassurance, he didn't need someone to assolve him from his sins. The dog that weeps after it kills is no better than the dog that doesn't. His guilt will not purify him. That's what it meant being a monster. That's why you kept your mouth shut as you listened.

Between your arms, he felt safe enough to confess what he had done, figuring that you would have understood him more than anyone else. You did. You had grown accustomed to his body language, to what he said and what he really meant, to what he was doing and what he wanted you to think he was doing. You had figured him out, completely.

Monsters aren't born, they are made— You had whispered it against his green, translucent skin, words flying easily out of your mouth. It wasn't your first time saying those words, he could hear it in your tone. Because he too had fully figured you out.

Or at least that's what you both thought.

You remember your last fight. The one that crumbled all your moments together to pieces, turning them into pointless memories. The one that still hurts, like a fresh injury and not a closed scar. A scar that won't ever fade.

It was the day you really understood him, where you saw right through him for the first time. Where you understood that all that you had done together didn't held that much value, because it was all built over a lie. Actually, more than one: He didn't know you, not like he thought he did. The same was for you, who for once couldn't say what he was doing or where he was looking at. His feelings for you had never been there, he had used you like a pawn in his game, because he had actually, always put himself first. He had the guts to accuse you of playing mind tricks on him, which maybe you had done, but it didn't change the fact that he was in the wrong.

"You manipulated me!" he shouted in your face.

You opened your arms, trying to show him the reality of things. "And what were you doing? Uh?" You stepped forward, finger pointing at his chest. "All because you can't grow a pair of balls and look at yourself!"

"Me?" his opened hand landed on his chest, the green flames grew all around his body. "You did all this just so you could keep your stupid power at bay" he accused back, hate spreading from his mouth.

You huffed, arms crossed.

He shrugged, speaking again. Happy with the fact that you hadn't found the words to answer him. "News flash sweetheart—"

The use of the nickname stinging far more then you had expected. "Dont." you warned through gritted teeth. 

He pretended to not care about what you wanted, but the truth was that it still mattered a lot to him. "You are a crazy bitch either way" he finished. Sour words piercing your heart. He knew your past, he knew the real weight of those words. He had chosen them carefully, so you did too.

"Not much insulting from the one that believed fucking child killers over his own wife"

So, insults where thrown, mean things where said, old scars where reopened. Promises to never speak again and to never be happily in the same room were shouted out loud. Promises that all that there was between you had just been instincts, being denied touch for years and all that. In the end, the guards had to separate you. None of you was against the idea.

You remember the story. How it all went to shit because you two were monsters and your nature would have always been to lie and betray. Because your secrets were too big to confess and the pain was too much to see through. Because the truth is always in the middle but you are standing on one end and he's looking at you from the other. Because they would have needed a lot more than one skeleton to keep you from being a menace. Because you remember the story, but not all of it.