Warning::sigh:: you know what's coming, it's in the bloody summary: SLASH, people, PURE AND SIMPLE. That MEANS: boys lovin' boys, kay? Oh, and also: LANGUAGE, ALLUSIONS TO EW! POP CULTURE! And a marked lack of sensibility, reason or realisticness.

Rating: T for now. Will probably go up later.

Summary: SLASH To Val, being Cupid means he gets to torture lots of pathetic little mortals. His mother, Goddess of Love, decides to teach him the TRUE nature of love…the hard way.

A/N: Kay, guys, sorry for the lateness! I should have updated Broken Umbrella first, I know, but I have to finish editing it a bit. Hang in there, though, because next chappie is coming soon. I gotta dash because I have incredible amount of work to do so this author's note is going to be reeeally short! Thank you all for the reviews they matter so much you'll ever realise how much! Kisses and hugs to all those of you who reviewed. You're my STARS!

Enjoy the randomness and emoness to come:)

The Loveheart as a Symbol of Hatred

3-To be or not to be, that is the question (gay, that is.)

Tuesday evening. Hailey's bedroom.

Hailey's bedroom is flipping ugly. And random. Its all pink, the walls are covered with posters of Bob Marley, there are butterfly stickers all over the furniture, stinky 'scented' candles are scattered everywhere, heart-shaped cushions thrown on the huge bed, on which Hailey's is currently standing, drawling theatrically:

"My parents think I'm gay 'cuz they saw me kissing some guy…"

"Shut up, Hailey! Don't you have any heart? I'm in state of shock, here!" I snarl.

"In state of shock? Looks more like you're playing video games with Broom to me."

"Hailey, you saw it! This time it really wasn't a figment of my imagination!"

"Yeah—emo boy is gay and wants to get in your panties. So what? It's not the end of the world. There are loads of gay people in the world. Take Broom, for example…"

We both look at Broom, who carries on watching Squall and Riona plan a revolution on the screen.

Hailey gets off the bed and kicks Broom.

"You could at least bother to deny it!" she snaps.

Broom shrugs and reaches for the packet of marshmallows, his eyes never leaving the screen.

"You are full of crap, Broom," Hailey says hostilely.

"Aren't we all?" Broom shrugs.

"Guys! Stop arguing like an old married couple and give me the wise counsel and advice friends are supposed to give each other!" I call, waving my arms to get their attention.

"I don't know, Mic. Do you like him?"


"No, mother Teresa's imaginary friend. Jerk."

"No I don't like him! He's weird and crazy and emo and gay!"

"Unless you hadn't noticed, you pretty much fit that description too, Mic."

"What? I'm not emo!"

"You wear tight pants."

"Yeah, but that's only because I like feeling…encased."

"Ugh, that sounds so incredibly nasty," Hailey winces. "You write depressing poetry."

"Only when I'm actually depressed."

"Excuse me: I was there when you wrote 'Stabbing Into My Heart With Rusty Nails' and you were giggling while writing it!"

"I was experimenting with new techniques!"

"You wear stripes!"

"Chavs wear stripes!"

"Chavs don't wear orange and black arm-warmers over fishnet sleeves!"

"That's personal style, not emo!"

"Your hair covers one eye!"

"It so doesn't! It covers both of them whenever they grow too long, but I always end up by cutting them again or tying them back!"

"Fine then, you stupid closet-emo! You're not emo, but you're definitely gay, weird and crazy!"

"I'm not crazy!"

"You are crazy! You speak without realising it and you make up melodramatic scenarios in your head and start believing in them and you do and say weird stuff all the time and even though I've just said several times in a row that you're gay you still haven't denied it!"

Broom actually pauses his game and looks at me.

"Are you gay?" he asks.

I shrug.

"I dunno. I can't really say, can I? I mean, technically, we're all straight by default. Since I haven't tried anything with a girl or with a guy, I think it's safe to say that I'm currently between sexualities."

"Basically, you're gay," Hailey sneers.

"Maybe I am. Obviously that'll prove to be a huge disappointment for you, eh, Hailey?" I wink at her.

"I have the worst two best friends in the world: one is full of crap and the other is full of himself, which is basically the same as being full of crap."

"Whatever, Hailey," I roll my eyes.

"You know you love us," Broom says matter-of-factly.

"We still haven't decided what we're going to do about the gay emo-kid," Hailey says quickly, undoing her braid and combing her hair with a vengeance.

"Hey, can I do your hair?" I ask, standing up.

She hands me the hairbrush and I begin combing her long, silky hair.

"I don't know what we're going to do about him."

"Maybe you should give him a chance?" Broom says.

"What, the emo-kid? I don't think he actually likes me," I say. "I mean, it wasn't exactly a kiss. It was more like a bite."

"Hey! Maybe he gave you his rabies!" Hailey exclaims, laughing.

I hit her with the back of the brush.

"Whatever. I think I'll just pretend he doesn't exist. I don't think he'll bother us again if we leave him alone."

"Are you saying we're not allowed to tease him in Art?" Hailey whines.

"You do whatever you want. Just count me out."

"God, you're so tight, Hailey grumbles.

Broom looks up from his game, eyes wide.


"What?" Hailey frowns, confused.

"Bad word choice, Hailey you dork."

Wednesday lunch-time. Art studio.

Hailey's finishing off her painting for her final outcome that we should all have finished weeks ago and that I haven't even started and I'm sitting with my feet on the paint-splattered table, eating Skips and listening to Kaiser Chiefs on Hailey's iPod.

"We've got Art next," Hailey says.

"Yeah, I know."

"That means we're seeing our little emo-kid next."

I sit up abruptly.

"Oh my God. You're right! What do I do?"

"Go shave your head and wear white makeup and put on the piece of orange fabric in the textiles storeroom and pretend you're a Buddhist monk who got lost on his way to Tibet."

"Should I do that?" I wonder.

"There's only ten minutes of lunchtime left. You won't have enough time. Idiot."

"Twinkle twinkle little star, what you say is what you are," I sing.

"You're such a child. The emo-kid probably only fancies you because he has a Lolita-complex."

"Shut up, Hailey."

"Ooh, great comeback."

I ignore her and…what if she's right, though? What if…what if the emo-kid is actually a pervert with a thing for young boys, and he knows he can't do nasty stuff to little boys so he picked the closest thing to a little boy…but wait, I don't look like a little boy…much. I mean, my friend Nick looks much more like a little boy than me: he even needs his ID to get into 12 certificate films…maybe the emo-kid doesn't hit on Nick because they're not in the same class and if I introduced them maybe he'd start doing nasty stuff to Nick instead and oh my God maybe the emo-kid has an SM fetish thing, because, I mean, he bit hard and oh my God what if I introduced him to Nick and then he kidnaps Nick and ties him up in an armchair in his basement and then he gets out all kinds of whips and chains and knives and he starts cutting up Nick but them something goes wrong and Nick dies of a haemorrhage and then it'll be all my fault, since I'm the one who introduced them—

"Introduced who?" Hailey asks.

"Nick and the emo-kid."

"Nick and the emo-kid? Seven-year-old lookalike Nick and the shota-tendencies emo-kid?"

"Yeah, I think the emo kid has SM fetishes and he is going to do something really nasty to Nick if we let them and oh my God what if he kidnaps Nick and—"

"The emo kid knows Nick?"

"Didn't I introduce them?"

"You introduced Nick to the emo-kid? When? Mic, are you sure you're not daydreaming again?"

Oh yeah. Oh, alright., Phew, I got really scared.

"I wasn't daydreaming, I was just theorizing."

"Whatever. I think you should get with the emo-kid, especially if he has SM tendencies."

"Huh? What the hell? Are you crazy?"

"Nope. I think you'd really enjoy being tied up and participate in twisted roleplay and be touched inappropriate places with inappropriate things…"

"You think so?"

"Yeah…you have this thing about you…people just want to tie you up and make you beg and do kinky stuff to you."


"Yea. Definitely. You have the whole irresistibly rapeable thing going on for you."

"You're lying, right?"


"Have you ever wanted to rape me?"

"Me? Maybe a bit at the beginning. First time I met you, here in Art, I came in late, remember? And you were drawing this pinecone and you were really concentrating and you kept poking your tongue out and biting it and your hair was all over your face and you were wearing this goddamn girly Jack Skellington top and I just felt like tying you to the easel and raping you. And then, of course, we became friends and I realised you weren't my style at all."

"Oh my God…this is sick, Hailey…being raped by you…ugh…the mental imagery flooding my mind is so disgusting…ew…"

"So you find it disgusting to be raped by me but you wouldn't mind being tied up by the emo-kid?"

I think about it. Try to picture it in my mind. I can't.

"I…dunno. I think I'd have to try it before I can judge."

"You are such a pervert, Mic. Seriously. The day he rapes you, don't come crying to me. You're practically begging for it."

"Begging for what?"

Andy, who sits at our table, just came in, bringing us both to the realisation of the fact that lunchtime is over and there are now people coming in. The classroom gradually fills up, and every time the door opens I start a little for fear it might be the emo-kid. Val. Right, I should stop calling him the emo kid in my head. Val…somehow it kind of fits him. Like an emo tribute to the emo kind (Vincent Valentine, get it?)…he he, that's funny.

"What's funny?" Andy asks.

"Nothing," I say. God, I really must learn to think in my head instead of out loud.

"Yeah you should," Hailey says, making me wince. "Hiya emokid!"

Oh my God no! The emo-kid, that is, Val, just came in. He's all pink-streaked hair and 'fuck off'-cheeked and stormy-eyed and snarly-faced and…I'm kind of wondering what it would feel like being tied up and violated by him. Painful, for one. I mean: my mouth still hurts from where he bit me yesterday…maybe he really did give me the rabies.

"Don't talk to me, stupid cow," Val snarls at Hailey.

He dumps his bag beside his chair and sits heavily down, glaring around in what he undoubtedly expects to be an intimidating way.

"So, you're gay then?" Hailey asks casually, ignoring what he said.

Val starts so violently we all jump slightly.

"Gay?" he chokes.

We all stare.

"You kissed Mic, didn't you?" Hailey asks, thrusting her chin in my direction.

"Mic?" Val glances at me, eyes wide. "How the fuck does that make me gay?"

We all gape.

"Well…kissing a boy…kind of makes you gay, doesn't it?" Hailey says, delicately.

"What—she…" Val looks from me to Hailey in quick successions. "She…you're telling me she—" he points at me "is a boy?"

"Um…yeah?" Hailey says, sounding slightly puzzled.

"She's a fucking boy?" Val shrieks, jumping to his feet so abruptly his chair flies off and hits the next table.

"Yeah, I'm a boy. Duh. Deal with it, dude," I say, trying not to giggle, because, oh my God, this is hilarious.

"She's a fucking boy!" Val wails. "You fucking bitch!" he yells to the ceiling.

We all look to see if there's someone on the ceiling, but obviously there isn't. Val carries on regardless.

"You fucking bitch! I'll kill you!"

And he runs out of the classroom.

Someone is going to have a very bad time but I laugh nonetheless, because this is flipping hilarious.


I stop laughing.

He thought I was a girl? That little bastard!

A/N: sorry this was so short! More coming soon!

Love you all infinitely…now….please review? Pretty please::puppyeyesofUTTERdoom::