Bunny

It has to be my favorite bit of this entire mess. I adore Bunny. Just wish he were real.

 

My cheek didn’t bruise for a while, and it healed up quickly. I was almost ashamed that I’d let myself get hit so hard. The police loved the drug dealer’s death; you could tell. His demise saved them so many other arrests it wasn’t even funny. Their failure to find any linking evidence to a suspect at the scene, however, discouraged them. I’ve no doubt that every customer of his was interviewed, but no suspect was ever convicted. I was never even looked at.

I’d quit killing for a bit, although I knew I’d start up again later. I spent time with my friends to fill in the holes that quitting my habit left. I was sitting, a little over a month after my last kill, in Bunny’s basement: a cold, damp sort of place where we kept all of his secrets while in the house.

He returned with the box, which he’d moved to his room the previous night because going to the basement at night in the dead of winter, even here, to wear dresses, was unquestionably a request for a cold. We switched shoes. I’d been wearing the only heels I owned; a black pair of really tall, chunky knee-high boots which laced up the front. His feet were shaped differently than mine, but we wore the same exact size. He slipped into one of the three dresses he’d bought; a slim, black ordeal with spaghetti straps and slits on the sides. Even without breasts, he managed to pull it off beautifully. He looked in the mirror and frowned. “My roots are showing. We need to fix them.”

“We can do it later. I really like that dress, though. If I lost about twenty pounds, I could probably fit into it.”

He laughed. “It’s not as small as it looks, trust me.”

I held up two black hats; a fedora and a top hat.

He giggled. “You wear the fedora. It looks awesomely sexy on you.”

“Why thank you.” I curtsied.

He mirrored the motion, but more gracefully.

I slipped into his Vans, which were still warm, and plopped the hat onto my head. “My dearest Bunny,” I joked, “May I have this dance?”

“Certainly, you may.” He grinned, and rested his arms on my shoulders.

“Teach me to waltz again?”

“Sure.”

Suddenly, the steps made sense again, although I’d forgotten them completely after the last time he’d taught me. I was absolutely sure we’d turn heads at prom. “Are you wearing a dress to prom?”

“I haven’t decided yet.” He cringed a little at the thought. “I’m not completely ‘out’, you know?”

“I know. You could change on the way, or just sneak out altogether. Oops, sorry.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, you’re right. What if the school refused me?”

I rolled my eyes. “Hun, you’d be wearing a formal. It’s not like you’d show up in a miniskirt and hooker boots.”

“You mean like these?”

“Yes, like those.”

“I like these boots. They’re easy to move in.”

“Yeah, but you get my point.”

“I do.” He smiled. “Dip me.”

I obeyed. “Yes, master.”

He stuck one of my boots up in the air, toe immaculately pointed. His eyes glittered. “You know I love you Blair.” He didn’t mean the heart-pounding and sweaty-palms kind of love, but a strong brother-sister type bond. We’d been over them several times; our feelings for each other. At first, our bond was so strong we could barely decipher what it really was. Then, he realized that he was gay, and we knew exactly what it was.

“I know, Bunny. I love you too.” I pulled him out of the dip and we kissed each other’s cheeks, as we often did when we were alone. I love you just the way you are.

Reviews

[Brie]

Funny! I could imagine him twirling in a dress and them dancing the whole time! Nice to read another side of her too.
-Brie