BRUTALLY DIVINE LOVE

[1]

The McWood's sons loved playing a role as edgy teenagers and invite their friends under darkened living room with only two (candy scented) candles placed in the middle then talk about ghosts, monsters, unexplained events, and conspiracies ritually.

Jimmy Stevenson was one of the five out of approximately 39 million people living in California that was unfortunate enough to be forced into this cult.

His friends might deny his statement regarding their unofficial club status (one that brought doubts from Han's and Jerome's parents. McWood's parents and his own, though, would just let their children be happy as long as they didn't bother the neighbors) however, who spent their time every Saturday, at times whenever Friday the thirteenth happened? Who huddled and talked about ridiculous stuffs Jimmy could barely recall? Of course, only cult members did that. 

Or some obsessed, single teenagers.

So, there was Jimmy, hugging an animal plushie that one of the McWood's sons—Nate—owned. While he listened to his friends discussing what Jimmy caught as summoning spirits rituals. Every week someone would submit new ideas they discussed exactly seven days later, Jimmy usually put some half-assed ideas so he could go home faster or sleep early if they were having a sleep over. It worked most of the time.

Last week, their youngest member, Jerome submitted an idea. He said he had been curious regarding spirit rituals. He wanted a boring ass discussion instead of something real that could get them possessed, maybe get exorcised, cleansed.

But everyone excluding Jimmy, as always, loved it. Any of them could just ask about 'what is ghost' and five of them would find a way to talk about it at least for an hour.

Jimmy rolled onto his stomach. He put one hand to support his chin before he looked around. His movement must bothered Nate because his friend pushed his shoulder, Jimmy glared at Nate under dimmed light.

"Why did you push me?" Jimmy harshly whispered into Nate's left ear, making the guy flinched. The movement sent his black-rimmed glasses onto the floor. Nate moved away from Jimmy subtly, hands frantically searching his glasses without looking down.

"Please don't whisper into my hear, they're fucking sensitive man," Nate whispered back, his tone was tamer than Jimmy's, "I did it because you're disturbing us. This is an important meeting, I'd appreciate it if you concentrate too. It's the least you could do."

"Important meeting my ass, Nate, we've been doing this since years ago yet not once it brings my grade up," Jimmy nudged Nate's ribs with a small force using his elbow. Jimmy looked at another McWood—Trevor, the younger one, loudest, brightest—brother, a red bowl pressed against his chest, "Hey, could you bring the popcorn bowl to me?"

Nate fixed Jimmy a quick confused look, pursing his lips in a pensive manner, "What popcorn bowl?"

Jimmy sighed, "The red bowl, Nate. One that filled with bunch tiny red popcorns inside it. Come on, please? I'm hungry, bored, tired. I finished my soccer club later than usual, I'm tired and hungry."

Nate clicked his tongue, looking away from Jimmy. He took the red bowl out of Trevor's embrace. It emitted a loud protests that immediately being hushed by the rest of them excluding Jimmy. Nate put it gently between them, taking a huge amount into his hand. Jimmy rolled his eyes when Nate's expression turned into one akin to playful, devilish even. He pushed the bowl away each time Jimmy's hand got near it. Annoyed, Jimmy purposefully knocked Nate's glasses off his face, accidentally grazing his fingers against his friend's eyes.

"Jim, that fucking stings," His friend's hissed under his breath, putting a palm on his injured eyes. Jimmy felt rather guilty but not enough to apologize so he just stuck his tongue out.