Disclaimer: I don't own Degrassi, its characters, or Listening by The Used.
The thudding grew faster and faster, hurrying to match the pace of his heartbeat. It was during his time alone in the gym after hours that Fitz really let his mind wander to the places he tried his hardest to suppress. Whenever he let go, his thoughts didn't wander so much as linger on one particular person. One particular girl, to be exact. Clare Edwards.
I don't see anything now so just say what you want to say, it's kind of funny how I'm not listening anyway.
His favorite pastime was pretending that the punching bag was that little fucker Goldsworthy. The only reason Fitz had started the war was because of the curly haired angel who predominantly featured in his thoughts and fantasies. Every hit of the gloves was a resentful blow to Eli's gut or jaw. Fitz thought back to his freshman year, back when he had hung out with Johnny Dimarco and his brutish sidekick Bruce. He remembered how much Johnny changed once he started dating Alli; Johnny was whipped. As a niner Fitz had promised himself that he'd never let a girl take over his head and make him go crazy. With every punch, every imaginary shattered rib, every cracked nose, he tried to crush any hope of being the object of Clare's affection. She was the only reason he picked on emo boy.
If your heart's still beating it must be the blood
If your lungs are still working it must be the mud
If it's still light out then a kick in the ribs
Suddenly, he was transported back to the alley way. His hands curled up balls of pure rage, ready to beat the living shit out of Eli. Nothing was more satisfying than being the cause of Eli's split lip, making him pay, making him bleed for holding Clare, touching her, kissing his Clare Edwards. Fitz kept hitting, releasing his fury, until he was stopped by the police…
This time it wasn't law enforcement that interrupted him; simply Owen. He pulled the ear bud blasting The Used out of his ear to hear, "You coming, Fitzy boy? I thought we were meeting the guys at The Dot."
"In a minute," Fitz grunted back to Owen, shoving his music back into his ear. He needed the pounding guitar to clear his thoughts before facing a group of high school boys who could only piss him off more. He couldn't show up preoccupied with Clare. He refused to be whipped over a girl that would never be his. All because of Eli Dickwad Goldsworthy. He hated him so fucking much.
Your skin attached is a fragile cliché of my broken heart attack.