Hyeonverse Cheers For Smiley

This story was inspired by Sting's song "Everybody Laughed But You":

Thank you to LittleBitOfEverythingReally for the edits.

PROLOGUE: MERCURIAL

Gather closer, my slumbering cohorts

For tonight's tale and a lesson of sorts

In the very spirit of our eves of grief

The fate of a cinder belle who was struck by a thief

No love as pure and splendid

Had this school ever attended

As the passionate little affair

Of Frank Hart and Molly O'hare

At Marlon Merlo Brooklyn High

Hand in hand, they would stroll by

Inseparable, the two were soulmates

Their union ordained by the fates

Molly was silly, sassy, and sweet

Frank was suave and snappy, a real treat

He would have taken a bullet for you

And that's what set their love askew.

The boy was too gentle, his heart was too big

And it caught the greedy eye of a certified pig

Into their lives Katie Osmond barged in

And their love she threw in the trash bin

Every girl hated the red headed sow

There was no guy she couldn't chow

She'd steal your boyfriend just to show

That no one was safe from the little ho

Why did she do it? Nobody knew

She hated Math, sucked at Chem, and at Sports, ew

No, Seduction was her one unique skill

And stealing nice things gave her

such

a thrill

At one point she had not one, not even two

But

three

whole beaus waiting on cue

All three eventually got their arses expelled

Thanks to a ferocious fist fight they held

From ninth to twelfth grade, every year there was drama

Like clockwork, Katie always delivered a fresh new trauma

Usually a brawl that ended with a black eyed quarterback

Or a suspended linebacker moping at home doing jack

Her senior year promised more of the same

When Molly marched in to meet her flame

On her seat at the cafeteria giggled Katie

Learning about sines and cosines from Molly's matey

Molly knew she was in for a fight

As Katie was nothing short of a blight

She played hard to seduce Molly's boy

But he would not fall for her wicked ploy

Her lurid advances were easily foiled

Frankie's love could not be soiled

This was the one boy Kate could not possess

And such resistance brought her great distress

Unable to dent Big Frankie's devotion

Katie put a grand new plan into motion

She trained her sights on poor oblivious Molly

Hoping to sink her soul into folly

As Molly walked on her merry way to class

Katie's words would shatter her like glass

"The bitch doesn't deserve Frankie, just look at her,"

She'd whisper with bile, the little saboteur

Molly's ears were bombarded, her poor heart rendered sore

"Junkies and thugs, her whole family's rotten to the core"

Yes, her Dad was on the take and her Mom was a whore

The O'hares were far from exactly top drawer

Her attendance was dismal, her grades were abyssal

And her notion of fashion would make anyone bristle

The zingers kept coming and she got fed up

Molly's pot boiled over and she finally blew up

It went down in October and it still haunts her, I swear

The falling leaves were the same color as Katie's hair

Cheerleader practice had finished, so Molly took a detour

through the back of the gym to go meet her

amour

Students hanged back there, all talking and smoking

Among them, Katie started poking and joking

"By

God

, just look at her ass, that thing is

titanic

!"

Indeed, Molly's butt width was roughly oceanic

"What did you just say to me?" Molly spun on her heels

"There's a famine in Ireland, O'hare. Save them

some

meals."

The students saw murder flash in Molly's flaming eyes

and quickly made a hole in shock and surprise

"Bitch, who the

fuck

told you you could speak to me?!"

Mad Molly growled with rage like a crazed Banshee

All the bottled up anger inside her chest erupted

"You

whore!

" Molly's vision blurred, her wits were corrupted

She saw red and her fists flew

As she punched Katie's nose into a goo

It was liberating, she was actually grinning

Sweet justice filled her with glee and it sent her head spinning

Every girl there was secretly cheering and clapping

As the pompous redhead endured a royal slapping

Nobody really knew how long the slaughter went on

As justice was handed by Vengeance's Paragon

"Molly..." A voice finally woke her from her murderous rage

And found her beaming triumphant, standing on a morbid stage

The horror in his tone made the girl freeze

"Molly, c'mon," Frankie whimpered. "Stop... please..."

In her hand, a bloodsoaked fistful of Katie's hair

Had been viciously used to wage open warfare

To bash the girl's head against the wall

Again and again in the ruthless brawl

The clapping had stopped, the smiles had faded

Katie had been crushed, her smirk castrated

Molly took a look at her ghoulish masterpiece

And hoped to God nobody had called the police

(They

did

show up, but my wife was the lunch lady

With the key to a room in a motel most shady

She rode them for days and made it all go away

But I'll leave those details for another day)

"I scraa..." Katie Osmond whimpered on the floor

Bloodied and shaken to her very core

Softly, she mumbled; "I scraped my knee..."

Her mind was gone, surely you'll agree

Frankie covered her with his Varsity jacket tenderly

Worried the red headed girl's mental health was in jeopardy

He lifted Katie in his arms with formidable energy

And quickly carried her to the nurse's office commendably

"Look, Frankie... I scraped my little knee..." Katie mumbled

"Mommy's gonna be so mad..." In his arms she crumbled.

Totally appalled by what she was viewing

Molly called him: "Frankie?

What

are you

doing

?"

Eyes of a stranger glared back in disgust

Frankie's love for her crumpled into dust

She was suspended for a month and when she got back

Things had gone bizarre, reality all out of whack

Frank walked around with his arm on Katie's shoulders,

Puzzling even the most casual beholders

Molly's eyes met hers and Katie smirked, victorious

Frank was hers at last and the feeling was glorious

She had changed her image, rebranded herself and repacked

And he had fallen for her defenseless victim act

Katie wore a bandage on her head for much of the school year

And milked the boy's compassion in a manner most cavalier

In time, his pity bloomed into love

As he grew sure they fit like a glove

Everybody laughed or whispered: "What a sad display"

Then set their watches and waited for her to stray

To her credit she never did, far from it

Maybe she grew up and shifted her wit

Glued she was to her Big Frankie on the playground

Blinded to any of the other boys around

I like to think it was irony that brought her her defeat

'Cause the

symmetry

of it would be just plain sweet

In the effort to bow Frank to her selfish whim

She

was the one who fell in love with him

Molly meanwhile vanished, she went underground, full quiet

The rest of her school year was spent on a strict dim diet

Of depression, amfebutamone, and Linda Ronstadt

Hey, don't you judge! It was 94 and it '

Hurt So Bad'

She tried everything to reconnect with him

But the mere sight of her made Frank's face turn grim

Over the Summer, she finally caught him alone

"Go away, Molly," he grunted. "It's over, we are

done!"

"Please come back to me, Frankie," Molly pleaded in despair

"She's going to

destroy

you," she cried, her heart laid bare

"Like you did?" His cold tone materialized her worst fears

His love for her was truly dead and it brought her to tears

She couldn't get through to him, and it cut her like a knife

"You're making the single biggest mistake of your

life!

"

"You

were the biggest mistake of my life, Molly!"

Frank roared, remembering her all giddy and jolly

The cruel, sadistic delight in her expression

And her vicious explosion of boundless aggression

"I saw you, the

real

you." He glared at the girl

"You're

sick

, Molly, you made me wanna

hurl!

"

"You were going to

murder

her," Frankie said

"Doc says you came

this

close to crushing her head!"

"And you know the worst part?" He remembered with dread

"You were

grinning

while she was lying there half dead."

"I love you, Frankie." Tears rolled down Molly's face

Their once epic love gone without a trace

She had lost it all, she had fallen from grace

"Get therapy." Frankie grunted, exiting the place

Devastated, she moved out the following year

To Bed-Stuy, Crown Heights, or so I hear

But she never forgot the 'lesson' she learned at school

To this day, she abides by this most horrible rule:

'From the gutters you came and trash is your claim

You don't get Prince Charming, you're not that dame

You're the

villain

here and pain is your game

So bow down your head and lay with your shame'

'Anger

ALWAYS

comes back to bite you in the ass

Behave, control that hot temper, be kind, first class

Count from one to ten, breathe in, breathe out, use your

fucking

brain

And

never resort to violence ever again!

'

NIGHTMARE ROOM#1: THE NEEDLE DEMON

­ OOW! My whole neck hurts!

Dead. I am dead, right? No, the dead don't feel pain. Do they? Shit, forget the pain, ignore it. Focus on something else, yes? Yes...

Where am I? It's too dark to see, it feels like a hospital room.

Yup, that's definitely an IV drip on the corner of my eye. And there's a machine somewhere to my left beeping away a heartbeat. My heartbeat?

The faint glow from its LED lights paints everything in tones of seaweed green, it's like I'm in an underwater tomb.

Beep. One one thousand, two one thousand, three one thousand. Beep.

I wonder what color this place really is when the lights are on. Pearl? No, pearl is whimsical. Pearl is for playful Moms and nerdy Dads who read bedtime stories to their sleepy child. This one is probably frost or porcelain white: cold and clinical.

Final.

Our master bedroom was alabaster, warm and refined. A well dressed couple helped me pick that shade on my first week in New York. Later, the husband watched us with glee while his wife rode my cock again and again on the backseat of their car, calling me the cutest boy she had ever fucked.

Why did I think about them after all these years? Were they the ones who put me here?

Someone tried to kill me, yes? Yeah, I remember there was a rope around my neck and a child was crying and screaming-

¡Oh, mierda! Did I do this to myself? Why? And how the hell did I end up here, wherever this is? Where the hell AM I? I can't... move. I can't even fucking blink, what IS this?

Angry boots stomp away down a hall just outside the room, startling someone by my bedside. Clothes rustle, I am not alone.

I don't hear breathing, but there's a scent of jasmine and strawberry candy. I think it's a girl.

The weight shifts when she climbs up on the bed, light as a puppy. A knee digs into my stomach. A hand claws at my chest. Yep, that's a girl. An Asian eight year old child who stares down at me in disgust.

Do I know her? I think I do, that pout is unforgettable. Yes, I've met her before. She's an ugly soul trying to be a good person by doing bad things.

There's a strange speech impediment in her voice when she whispers:

"Welcowme back, yow mowron."

A needle flashes between her fingers and mischief twinkles in her eyes. She pricks my arm with it, OW! Puta madre, that HURTS!

"Wake up, yow coward, let's GOW," she hisses. "Yow down't get to check owt, yowr kids need yow. Get! UP!"

Kids? Do I have kids? Yes, I think I did have kids once. And a wife with fiery hazel eyes who cuddled with me every night in our alabaster room. Her skin was always so warm it felt like her whole body was on fire, but I could never let gOOW! Carajo, stop that!

"Wake up, yow PRICK! I KNOW yow can hear me, yow deadbeat piece owf shit!"

Deadbeat? Me?

The door bursts open, flooding the room with searing light.

"HYEON! Cyka blyat, get OFFa him, you little monster," a woman shouts. "Fucking NOW!"

Frowning, the child closes my eyelids and exits the room with a veiled threat:

"To be cowntinued!"

What a horrible child, Jesus! And my neck is still KILLING me, OOW! I don't wanna be here no more, there's so much pain in this world. Rest. Hide. Yes, crawl back into sleep where it's peaceful and safe.

Embrace my sweet, sweet oblivion, yes? Yees...

1. I DREAM OF MOLLY

Oh, I

like

this shindig.

Everybody's partying like it's 1999. That glorious Summer of 99, when we were so hopeful and scared of the new millennium.

The future dangled in front of us fears of the Y2K computer bug and dystopian horrors to come, while whispering sweet lies about a bright new world with cities powered by the sun, wheels in space, and spandex jackets, one for everyone.

This is a

memory

from almost nine years ago, I am reliving the night I first met

her.

I'm at the

Swingin' Sappho Dance Club

, and Christina Aguilera's "

Genie in a bottle"

is blaring on the loudspeakers.

'You want

out

of that bottle,

mi corazón

?' I grin to myself in a drunken stupor, tripping the light fantastic. 'Then

reveal

yourself to me, my sexy magic Genie.'

From the dance floor, a purple haired amazon

goddess

locks her delirious hazel eyes with mine and her dance moves turn erotic.

Jesus!

Her hips sway in an enticing invitation as her fingers glide up and down her sweaty cleavage.

"Who? Is.

That?

" Twenty years young me gawks in awe.

Adrian glances at her and winces:

"Oh, fuck. Yo, Portley, the

cum dumpster

is here."

My neighbor Portley groans:

"Fuckety

fuck

me! Who let that

ghastly

cow in?"

"You guys

know

her?" I ask, surprised. Every woman they ever spoke to, I was the one who introduced them.

"Yeah, that's

Molly

, they say she's a crane operator over at the shipyard," Portley shrugs. "We walked in on the filthy hoe getting spitroasted in a public toilet last week."

"Man, the

way

she

mewled

, drunk up to her gills," Adrian chortles. "

Dees-gusting!

"

My eyes can't escape hers, she's a

panther

torching up the dance floor. Feral, primeval.

Perfect.

Flames burn from within those absolutely

gorgeous

hazels that glare at me with lust. Skittish and dilated by alcohol (and probably

Mephedrone

), they are giant pools of

Ambrosia

tempting us mortals to come drown in them.

A sexy plum dress wraps the steaming package, advertising her sizzling curves, tits to die for, an absolutely

magnificent

ass that just won't quit, and a teasing smirk that could ignite any cock into Defcon One. Dear

God

, no wonder there are no stars over New York. They cower with envy at the sight of her.

"Babe seems pretty okay to me." I smile at her, mirroring her luscious dance moves with some of my own and she winks at me, amused.

"Nah, the skank is

shameless.

" Portley chuckles with derision. "There's nothing she won't do. Lick cum off the floor, drink pee..."

"She

likes

it when they spit in her mouth." Adrian laughs. "

Foul!"

Geez. The way these two talk about women always makes me ill, do they even

like

them? Why do I hang with these creeps, do I

want

to be the

perineum

to this obnoxious little

merde à trois

? Have I officially become a vapid fuckboy like my old man?

The guy was a deadbeat loser who never a mound to anything. He left us when I was six to go chase tourists in

Cocoa Beach

, and I became practically homeless two years ago, after

Mom

-

I had been riding in her rusty Chevy Vega and freeloading at my

abuela's

(Grandma) when a P.I. tracked me down with news of a dead relative. Overnight, three hundred grand from my maternal Grandma Roxie, her trusty Ford Windstar, and her New York brownstone home landed on my lap.

My original plan was to come here, sell the place, close her flower shop, and fly back home with enough money to buy back

twice

our old blue house with the twin pear trees in the backyard.

Well laid plans. One whiff of them Brooklyn babes and I was instantly

hooked

to the Big Apple.

It's where I met my neighbor Portley. He comes from old money and his family thinks he's studying to become a doctor. In reality, the only thing he cares to study is pussy, which he sucks at getting. Which is why he's always glued to me and my pick up tips. I'm his

Cyrano.

His buddy Adrian came as an extra, the prick codes for an upstart company and he absolutely

worships

his Camaro. He calls it his pussy amulet. Sometimes I suspect that without it he'd still be a virgin. Somehow, his pick up game is even

worse

than Portley's.

Both live vicariously through my conquests, drooling at my cursory reports of steamy one night stands.

"Smiley, my Chilean

amigo

, are you a

raccoon

now?" Portley laughs. "

Why

are you even looking at trash, man?"

"

Of course

the skinny twink would fall for a bitch built like

Xena

." Adrian joins in on the roasting. "Beauty has found his

Beast.

"

Dick.

What-ever. I'm too drunk and horny to pay them any mind. Too entranced by Molly's voluptuous moves.

It only lasts a fraction of a second, blink and I would have missed it. Someone pushes me in the crowd and I break eye contact with her.

When I look back, there is such a desperate loneliness in her expression it hurts to watch. Tipsy and high as a kite, she's a haunted soul trapped in this neon paradise. A lost puppy nobody wanted. A broken doll, used and thrown away.

She catches herself and, flashing a teasing smirk, quickly buries her infinite sadness under the panther facade. No crying at the discotheque for

this

lady.

Undulating her hips side to side in a sensual belly dance, Molly stares at me, licking her lips. She is positively

beaming

under the disco lights, begging for someone to come and fuck her.

Portley puts his hand around my shoulder:

"Smiley, you silly git, have you forgotten your own

golden rule? Never

stick your dick in crazy, man; you're not

Gomez

and that STD magnet over there sure as hell ain't

Morticia

."

"Maybe..."

My neighbor glances at his henchman and finally sighs in defeat:

"

Fine!

It's time we changed hunting grounds anyway, this pussy pool has dried up. You go pound that nasty

scag

, and we'll regroup at

Rickety Rico's

in twenty."

"You don't mind me banging your

girlfriend?

"

"

That filthy

whore

is nobody's girlfriend," Portley hisses, then composes himself, fixing his tie. "C'mon, my munificent minion, let's cavitate outta here."

"Make way for Fuckus Maximus!"

Adrian shouts and the two choosing beggars peace out. Good luck finding a girl who'll give you the time of day, boys.

Molly cranes her neck tracking them over the crowd, and then shifts her focus back to me.

Hopping into the dance floor, I sally forth to seek my prey, vain as a peacock, thrusting my hips back and forth and sideways.