AN: I am not dead, I've simply been completely uninspired/lazy/busy. But this Valentine's Day (at 3:56 PM), as I sat staring out at the snow and ice and reveled in my sadness of being unable to write anything worth the effort (plus the fact that I haven't done anything all day, on a snow day, and it's a holiday!), this idea came to me! Well, not really . . . I've had it for a long time, stored in the recesses of my mind; I just figured it would never go anywhere. But then I wondered, "hey, why not write it as a short story, just for the fun of it? Or even better, a fanfic, so that perhaps someone will actually read it?" And so I begin it now! Even though I should probably be practicing my violin/playing in the snow/doing whatever homework my mind conjures/actually reading a book/practicing for the SAT. Yet somehow those things just aren't all that much fun.

Life in Moderation

In the darkness of his bedroom, the light from his laptop glared like a beacon, casting deathly shadows over his smirking face. Only the sound of his fingers hitting the keyboard could be heard, as the rest of the house slept, at half past midnight. Yet he hated the constant clicking of typing, and thus plugged his ears with the headphones of his iPod, dully noting the sounds of Fall Out Boy's latest music.

Fall Out Boy no longer amused him, however; although their album had come out but two weeks ago, he'd already listened to all their new songs upwards of fifty times each, and the radio, as it did with most of his favorite songs, was plainly killing "This Ain't a Scene, It's an Arms Race." Sure, he still liked their "old" songs (because who couldn't love "Sugar, We're Goin' Down"?), but those were so two years ago. Thus he frequented all the BitTorrent sites he knew, searching for and instantly finding and downloading a slew of new songs from several mediocre artists that, to a point, all sounded the same.

Blue tabs blinked at the bottom of the computer screen, as several of his friends, all nocturnal, continued to send him messages about everything and nothing at all. The neon pink and light blue fonts of his female friends coupled with the dark combinations of colors used by his male friends at times made his eyes hurt; but he decided that he would rather go blind than turn on a light. Besides, if his vision ever really became that poor, well, that's what contacts and laser eye surgery were for.

DreaminOfU2: wut do u thnk of tht new grl?

He squinted at the screen, not because he couldn't read the gaudy writing, but because he was annoyed that Yukari, one of his best friends since childhood, would even mention "tht new grl."

KingVanPwnzU: i dunno, i didnt tlk 2 her

And that was exactly the problem, in his mind: that he hadn't talked to her, except for a hello and an exchange of names, and after that, she had seemed completely uninterested in him. Normally he made friends or staunch enemies, or at least casual acquaintances, out of just about every person he met at once, for at least all three, whether good or bad, expressed an interest in him. Yet this girl, this new, naïve girl, shrugged him off as though he were a small speck of dirt and nothing more. He found it extremely alarming that a girl would find him so uninteresting.

DreaminOfU2: i thnk sum1s mad

DreaminOfU2: cuz she didnt tlk 2 u

Sometimes he really hated Yukari.

Deciding that, since tomorrow was a school day, it was time to go; he "said" his farewells to all his other friends, before typing into Yukari's text-box a quick "g2g" and signing off.

OoO

Friday, perhaps, was his favorite day of the week; no, not the day of Fri, he reminded himself, but the night, knowing that there would be no school the next day, and therefore he and his friends could stay up and out until the early hours of the morning. Yes, he loved Frinight, usually movie night, and so he smiled as he walked into homeroom that Friday, his schoolbag slung over one shoulder, trying to capture the essence of "cool."

As usual, his two best friends in homeroom, Merle and Dilandau, were already there. He found it somewhat odd and somewhat charming that such polar opposites as them had developed a romantic interest in each other. Just looking at the pair sitting on top of a desk, each with one earphone, listening to Dilandau's iPod, seemed out of place while remaining picturesque; Merle, a total tomboy, had tan skin, flamboyantly pink hair, and generally wore dark, baggy pants with tight-fitting shirts, while Dilandau, an albino, had pale skin, hair of silver, red eyes purer than the color of blood, and tended to wear ill-fitting jeans with punky shirts, to show off his lanky body.

Without any salutation, he dropped his schoolbag at his seat and stole Merle's earphone, eliciting a surprised "Hey!" from her.

I want to fuck you like an animal

"Nine Inch Nails is so a decade ago," he said, placing the earphone unsparingly back into Merle's ear.

"And yet it's still a good song," Merle growled.

"I hope you and Dilly don't fuck each other too hard," Van jabbed, using Merle's pet-name for Dilandau, which she used sparsely, fearing it would make her seem too much like a "girlie" girl.

"I swear I hate you, Van Fanel," Merle retorted, turning her face away to hide the blush that reddened her cheeks.

"What's up, Vanny boy?" Dilandau greeted, impassive to Van's ridicule and Merle's anger.

"Same old, same old," Van replied, sitting on his desk while trying to ignore the fact that the new girl had just walked in.

"Mr. Fanel, Mr. Albatou, what have I told you about sitting on the desks? And put that electronic device away before I confiscate it!" cried Mr. Bonanno. "You'd think as juniors you would know this by now."

"Sorry, Mr. Banana," Dilandau apologized. Merle and Van, too, complied with orders, although hiding their faces, afraid of getting detentions for merely laughing at Dilandau's disrespectful joke.

"Funny, Mr. Albatou," Mr. Bonanno said scornfully. "I've most certainly never heard that one before."

Dilandau simply rolled his eyes. "How come he yelled at you and me but not Merle?"

"Because he's probably a pedophile who likes to feel up teenage girls," Merle snorted.

But Van never answered Dilandau's question, for he was too busy watching the new girl who had seemingly paid no attention, as the rest of the class had, to the banter he and his friends had shared or the belittlement they had received from the teacher. Instead, she appeared thoroughly engrossed in a book, which Van noticed was Ethan Frome, the book they had been assigned to read for English, the book Van found wholeheartedly boring; it was simply full of sexual tension and nothing else to him (not that he liked reading much to begin with, since it took so much time and brain power for him). And yet this girl perused it as if it were actually interesting, her eyes (which Van had noted yesterday were a unique sea-green) scanning the page vivaciously, her shoulder length, chestnut brown hair practically spilling into the pages. Without any pretext at all, Van simply strode over and plopped himself in the empty desk in front of her, intruding upon the fictional world the girl had been sucked into.

"Hey," he said casually.

She looked up at him, a skeptical and confused look on her face. "Hello."

Van waited, erect in his chair, for something more, some substance, something to talk about, some quick conversation, and yet nothing came. Awkwardly, he drummed his fingers against the back of the chair, searching for anything to say, and only coming up with, "Hitomi Kanzaki, right?"

"Right," she said, a small smile crossing her pale pink lips, obviously entertained by his lack of eloquence. Another pause passed before she went on, trying to save him from drowning in his own lack of conversation. "I forget your name."

"Van Fanel," he growled, peeved that she had dismissed him more easily than he had previously believed.

"Right," she said, that smile still on her face and with her book still open. "Sorry."

"It's okay," Van mumbled, struggling with the fact that Hitomi was not interested in him; but he wouldn't quit that easily. "So, how do you like Fanelia High?" he asked, as cheerfully as he could.

"It's okay," she replied, using his exact words in almost the same exact tone, mocking him, just when he felt a presence, a presence he so hated, fall over him.

"I believe you're in my seat, Fanel," said a tall, pale boy, with sky blue eyes and disgustingly long blond hair.

"I'm not sorry, Schezar," Van growled, hastily retreating to his own seat, hands stuffed in his pockets, as the bell marking the beginning of first period rang. Seething, Van looked over at Hitomi and pretty-boy Allen Schezar as the two engaged in light intercourse, Hitomi finally putting away her book. How Van despised Allen Schezar! And how Van hated himself for despising Allen so, for this meant that Van cared, that he paid attention to Allen's affairs. Yet he had to, for the Fanelia high school juniors were such divided between "Allenites" and "Vanites," and some in between, who fell in the chasm labeled "social oblivion." Van knew he had a slight advantage over Allen overall, and yet his blood boiled, to think that this Hitomi Kanzaki preferred Allen.

And so for the rest of the period he watched them; Hitomi never turned his way once.

OoO

"Dude, put the fucking yo-yo away!" Dilandau cried, catching the yo-yo in midair and yanking it, dragging its user with it and evoking a cry of pain.

"I do not appreciate your language or your uncalled for violence!" Dryden Fassa exclaimed indignantly, rapidly winding up the yo-yo, lest Dilandau yank it again. Van watched with moderate interest, leaning on the lunch table, scrutinizing the cafeteria from his perch. Dryden, the "geek" of Van's immediate groupie (with the glasses and nerdy math and Star Wars clothes to match), and Dilandau, the brash one, were almost always at odds with one another; grinning to himself, Van supposed that the proverb "opposites attract" only definitively applied to romantic relationships.

"Yo-yos are so a century ago," Van murmured, loud enough for Dryden and Dilandau to hear.

"Yeah, what he said," Dilandau quipped, snatching the yo-yo out of Dryden's hands.

"Oh, stop it," mourned Millerna Aston, Dryden's girlfriend and the "girlie girl" that Merle wasn't, with golden, slightly curly locks and an up-to-date, sexy and stylish fashion sense. Millerna gave Dryden a butterfly kiss as they engaged in a happy hug, to which Van merely shifted his sidelong glance the other way, his eyes resting on the solitary figure of Hitomi (for Allen did not have the same lunch period, Van dryly noted).

It wasn't often that Van didn't have a girlfriend; no, on the contrary, it used to be that he would always have a girlfriend, for lengths of time a different one every week. His most steady relationship had lasted a good three months, much to the surprise of his peers; yet he, as always, lost interest in the girl, and pursued another, someone new, someone more fascinating than the last; but he never found that someone for very long. So even now, he thought ironically, after he had decided to go on a "relationship hiatus," he was still chasing girls, or at least one girl in particular, intent on getting her to notice his existence.

"What movie are we going to see?" Merle asked Yukari and Millerna, her voice cutting into Van's thoughts.

"Music and Lyrics!" Yukari and Millerna exclaimed simultaneously, giggling like the lovesick schoolgirls that they were. Van and Dilandau groaned.

"Sure," Merle agreed with a shrug, for she always had to pretend that she was apathetic to the chick flicks Yukari and Millerna picked, yet deep down inside, Van knew the feminine side of Merle loved such movies.

"I hate it when the girls get to decide," Dilandau mumbled.

"It's only fair," Van said with a laugh; then, coyly, "What do you say to inviting the new girl?"

Yukari gave him a malicious smile, surely reveling in the fact that (much) earlier in the morning she had touched the "new girl" sore spot. "Sure," was all she said.

Rubbing the back of his neck as he walked, trying to look "cool and casual," Van sat across from Hitomi, a placid smile on his face. "Hey."

She looked up from whatever artery-clogging, heart-stopping slop the cafeteria was serving that day. "Hello again," she said, amiably enough to satisfy and quell Van's nerves.

Again, silence.

"So . . ." Van began feebly, "what are you doing tonight?" It sounded like a horrible pick up line in his mind.

"Unpacking."

"Right . . ." was all Van could reply, drawing circles on the dirty lunch table with his index finger.

"Why?" she asked after a moment.

"Just wondering . . . if you wanted to go to the movies with my friends and I?" he asked hopefully. This sounds so fucking cliché, he thought bitterly.

Hitomi stared at him, as if seeing him for the first time, pondering why he would make such an offer. Her eyes made Van uncomfortable, and he withered under their gaze. "It's 'me and my friends'," she corrected.

Van stared at her dumbly. "What?"

"You said 'my friends and I' when it should be 'me and my friends'."

"Right . . ." Van repeated himself, annoyed that she had the audacity to correct his grammar. And that he'd been wrong when he'd been trying to sound all smart by even saying 'my friends and I.'

"And yes."

"Yes what?" he asked, forgetting the point of the entire (lack) of conversation.

"I want to go to the movies with you," she said, letting the words linger. "And your friends."

An unexplainable chill ran down Van's spine, yet to Hitomi he merely smiled, a smile that said "checkmate," as he replied with an enthusiastic, "Great!" And, in the back of his mind, he really did find it a great, great thing.

OoO

AN: Argh, this was supposed to be a short story, and now it's turned into something so much bigger! Wah! But not too much . . . I don't want to go over a few chapters! And hey wow, I actually finished a chapter in one day (it only took . . . six hours, haha). And yeah yeah, I know, I know, I haven't updated my other stories in FOREVER, but I've been really, really uninspired. This was a nice break from the nothingness that has been plaguing me; so please, don't be mad at me! I can tell you this: the next chapter of LS is halfway done, and if everything goes as planned this weekend (which it never does), I will have the chapter out by Monday night. Isn't that tantalizing? (It is for me!)

And this story seems like my cynical view on the American teenager, now that I reflect upon it XX. But that's not the main point! (Although it is definitely there.) And I luff Fall Out Boy! Haha.

"Our teenage vow in a parking lot,

'Till tonight do us part'"

Yeah man, I dig those lyrics of theirs.

-Spirit0