"That's fuckin' stupid, though. You can't look at it and go cross and why would your tongue get stuck to your mouth? They've got nothin' to do with your fuckin' tongue."
"Dunno, but it's what she said, and I believe her."
"Your mum's pullin' ya leg, mate."
"Then stare at it if you want. See if your eyes go cross! You'll be sorry when they do."
"No! It's your stupid mum---"
"Don't call me mum stupid!"
The little boy -- age six, his name had been Bryan -- had looked at Rian with hate in his eyes for speaking ill of his mother. If they had been in another universe as alien creatures (something that, often, Rian would dream about when he was alone in his room at night or during his day classes), it would have been quite possible that the shorter boy would have had glowing red eyes, a skin color to match the anger that radiated from him.
"Well, if she isn't stupid, then you stare at the fuckin' thing and then we'll know who's right and who's wrong."
Despite being just a year older than the boy, who had been a neighbor of his, Rian often found himself having the boy attached to his every movement. His own flesh and blood brothers didn't attach themselves to Rian as much as this little kid did. Maybe it was an admiration, maybe it was just the mere fact that Rian, although he could be a little crass and rude to the child, not once threatened to give him a split lip.
"And, if ya eyes go cross and tongue sticks to your mouth, then we'll know that she's right."
"And I'll be a monster. I wouldn't be able to even do nothin'."
"More people might like you if you did"
Rian had done everything he could to keep a straight face as he sat there on the green grass of their connecting yards, cards in his hands, but he'd soon looked up at the little boy who was sitting there, ball between his small hands with a look on his face that went from anger to hurt as Rian had spoken. It almost made him feel bad.
Almost.
With a shrug of his shoulder, Rian's eyes had gone back down to what he had been doing, playing mindlessly with the cards that were sprawled out in front of him at that very moment in time. Part of him couldn't care less about how he was making the boy feel, even at seven years old, he seemingly felt very little to no remorse for what he was saying. This would be something that would occur much within his life, saying and doing things that he knew he shouldn't be doing or saying, but often did and said them anyway for the pure pleasure of it all.
"You'd have plenty of friends you could piss off every day."
The entire time he spoke, Rian not once looked up at the boy that he was speaking to, for fear that he would see more hurt in his eyes. It would never bother him or make him feel bad, but there were times when Rian had known, even at just seven years old, that he could be a harsh person. He would say things that were meant to be painful and to hurt whomever they were being said, but it didn't mean that he wanted to see the look in their eye when he said it.
He had soon felt that he was, again, alone... and that day would end up being the very last time Bryan would bother Rian.