the moment he felt a hand lay on his shoulder, the redhead teen turned his head to face him, his eyes -- dead at the moment -- burning through the other’s skull. in times like this, in which he didn’t want anyone to bother him, and he allowed his obscure thoughts to consume him, he didn’t wish for anyone to say anything to him, and now that he was being touched he was about to lose it. “what do you think you’re doing?” he growled, and in one swift move he grasped the other by the shoulder, his grip tight, and possibly painful.










