Authors note: Hey there, I'm writing a new story. I never thought I would, but this just came to me out of boredom and I have no clue where it will lead, or what it'll be about. I'll probably take forever to update as usual, just a warning up hand.

So well, it's a highschool story, because I love them. The characters will probably not be them selves, and there will be shonen ai among others things. The grammar and spelling will probably suck badly, because my English is what it is. Anyway, here it is:

Oh right, one more thing, the hippie part, I'm not really sure when the hippie-era actually was, and so yeah, I guess I got the timeline pretty screwed up. But hopefully it'll all work out in the end. Right, Shikas dads name, what is it? I can't remember, I'm pretty sure I got it wrong, though. Chapter title belongs to Fall Out Boy, I owe nothing.

Pop Songs For Us Rejects

Chapter 1: A Little Less Sixteen Candles, A Little More "Touch Me".

I've been thinkin', maybe I've been partly cloudy

Maybe I'm the chance of rain

And maybe I'm overcast and maybe

All my luck's washed down the drain

Stars - Switchfoot

Kibas POV:

The base vibrates trough the floor and I know I have the music on too loud; I'll probably get those beeping noises in my ears if I don't turn it down. But I love to have it this way, the pulse trough my body and the way it paints pictures of my dreams. I close my eyes and the white stained ceiling stops taunting me, now I can be where the hell or who the hell I want. I'm no longer some white trash suburban kid with fucked up parents and no money in my pockets. I'm cool with a million friends and a flashy car, chicks dig me and my guitar isn't broken anymore. I've got groovy speakers and a sound-system to die for, everyone wants to be me and I don't want to be them.

I'm so far away into my sunglass covered daydreams I don't notice the violent knocks on my door, instead I get scared shitless when the door bursts open revealing my once so beautiful mother. Now brought down by the harshness ever everyday life and too many cigarettes. She looks tired with dark bangs underneath her eyes and unwashed hair hanging in stripes around her shoulders. I'm ashamed to say it, but it looks like she hasn't showered in a week or so. It might have to do with our hot water getting turned off because we didn't pay the bill, but even so I force myself into the water, cold or not. I may be low-life but I don't want to show it, I still got some pride left in my body. I guess this rundown trailer aint much to be proud of, neither is my mother and her non existent work, my dad's an ass, my sisters living down the street in a similar trailer, and my grades suck, so honestly there's nothing. But one has to cling to the small things, or else I'd given up a long time ago. Mom tells me I've got beautiful eyes though, that I could make anyone fall with them. Haven't succeeded with that yet but it must count for something, right? But then again, she only says that when she's a little tipsy, so there's probably not much truth in those words.

This is a daily ritual for us, mom comes into my room and tries to act motherly, she wants to talk about my day, ask about how I'm doing, how my friends are, and if I got a girl yet. Which friends, and what girl I ask inwardly but grin on the outside. I'm all smiles and tell her lies, not big ones, simple twists of reality. She doesn't need to know that there doesn't exist beach-parties and girlfriends. She still lives in her little fantasy world, where the trailer is a real house, where dad will come home at four and she'll have the dinner ready, her kids are still good at school and we all live wonderful lives. To bad it isn't like that…

But, hey there's more to life then that, at least that's what I try and convince myself. Shrugging of my mothers' feeble attempts of striking up a conversation I walk out the door. I've got to much nervous energy to stay inside, I got to do something or I'll go crazy. Mom waves after me, but I don't bother with waving back. She was more then annoying today. I think she's getting lovesick, dad's been gone for a month now, probably touring around, drinking like there's no tomorrow and forgetting about us at home. I don't mind, I don't like him, he's an asshole always leaving us behind like that. He must be retarded not realising we need support here at home. That money can't be picked of the trees, that my jeans has been ripped for a month now and I desperately need a new pair, but there's no fucking money for that. I know clothes aren't the most important thing in the world, but it still sucks not being able to buy a new shirt once in a while. My hoodie's nearly thread thin and doesn't warm at all anymore but it's all I got so I pull it tighter around myself as I walk up the street towards Shikas place.

Together with him I can kill sometime and discuss the outcome of tomorrow, it's our first day in the newly built high school. Some dude who rules the city, I can never remember his name, decided that instead of two high schools there should only be one. Therefore he rebuilded our old one to fit all students in town and tomorrow's the big day. Our time to be heroes as I told Shika yesterday when I rambled about how I wanted to be cool this time, that this school could be the chance we needed, the one I've been waiting for. He just nodded at me and continued playing his playstation, ignoring my ramblings with style. Shika's the most laidback kid I know, he manages to take everything so god damn cool. Does he bother with being un-popular? No. Does he care he's out of style? No.

Secretly Shika is one of my heroes, I wish I could be so un-bothered with everything too, and I really don't know what I'd do with out him. We've been friends forever. The most unlike couple ever, Kiba that's me, the bouncing hyper-active bundle of energy and him Shikamaru, a lazy ass who sleep trough all classes. Of course we got labelled some strange, it would have been against nature if not. It's no that I get pushed around or so, it's more the ignoration from the popular kids that bothers me. Luckily as said it doesn't bother Shika, or else we would have been the biggest losers ever. He always saves my ass in the last second when I'm about to make a gigantic fool out of myself. I owe him big time for all those times, and I have no clue about how to make it up to him.

Shikas house is old, and really big. The paint is chipping, everything looks askew, and there's a gigantic peace sign spray painted on the front door, but god damn it, it's a real house, not a fucking trailer and I adore it. It has like a million rooms, creepy corridors and secret pass ways. The windows are in odd shapes and every doorframe is painted in different colours, blue, purple, yellow, green you name it. Shika so used to it, I don't even think he notice the people staring at it, or walking up knocking the door, simply to see what kind of weird people live in such a house.

Sometimes when I'm over there, I walk around exploring for hours. When we were small hide and seek was the ultimate game, we played it all day, usually until Shika fell asleep somewhere and wouldn't come out when I called him. Then I walked home again, feeling lonely to my own messy place. Not to say Shikas place is extremely clean, there are things everywhere but in that cosy way that fits old houses, not in the dirty fashion that rules my place.

I walk straight in; his parents are used to me coming 'round all the time and they don't mind. They're survivors from the 60s hippie era and true believers of the free spirit, for example they never lock the door behind them. His dad still keeps his hair long, holding it back with a tie dyed band and his mother has this flashy flower printed wide dresses. With parents like that it's a wonder Shika didn't turn out weirder then what he is. There's music blaring from one of the living rooms and I recognise it as one of the live samples from a Woodstock concert. I can't count how many times Shikas dad made us listen to it, pointing out the awesome guitar parts and so on. Basically we know every song by heart. It isn't really my type music or Shikas music style, but what doesn't one do to keep parents happy? I slant in there, stopping in the doorframe and leaning against it, putting my hands down my front pockets, trying to strike a cool guy pose. Shika looks up and greats me over the book he's reading and his dad gives me the biggest smile ever and starts playing air guitar along with the rhythm of the music, motioning for me to do the same. For a brief second I contemplate if his been smoking grass again, but then again no. Shika told me he stopped, and I think I remember being told a million times before that this is his favourite song. –"Dad, please…" Shika yawns and rises himself from his place sprawled out on the floor. Shikato, that's his dad stops playing but instead he starts singing, closing his eyes and giving himself away totally. His voice's raspy and somebody would have to beat me to get me to admit it out loud, cool. Obviously that's the last drop for Shika who rushes from his place leaving his book on the carpet; on his way out he grabs my hand and drags me upstairs to the attic where he has his room. Rushing up the stairs in a pace that's un-normally fast for Shika I notice some new pictures being put up on the walls. Last years school photo of Shika for example, the one I know he secretly hates. The photographer somehow got him to smile on it; Shika's not the one that's keen on smiling. He laughs when something's fun, he grins sometimes, he smirks most often, but the smiles are more random, I guess with risk for sounding girly, they're special. A tug at my arms makes me speed up and soon we tumble inside his room and Shika kicks the door shut behind him. A few seconds pass and I notice Shika's still holding on to my hand, -"Uhm" I say, shaking my hand a little and smiling –"I'm not going anywhere, you know…" I trail of, amused to see a small blush creep over his cheeks. –"Oh, sorry" he replies and lets go, and I'm surprised he sounds so startled. What's this, Shika jumpy? Maybe he's nervous about tomorrow too, and what's up with running from his dad like that? It's the first time in an eternity I've seen Shika show temper, normally he goes along with everything, his dad singing, playing, forcing us to do things. I remember when we first started school, back when I still lived in a real house. The first day of school Shika came with his long hair flowing free down his back and a t-shirt that more resembled a dress then anything else, his khaki shorts barely peaked behind the edge of it. Some kid tried to poke fun at him because of that attire, and there's when I came in the picture. I was fascinated by the strange boy and his odd apparel so much unlike my own, and I didn't like the kid bullying him. So I literally beat the shit out of him, and helped Shika back on his feet, and that's when we became best friends. The point being, his parents made him dress like that, he had no clue about what the outside world was like. So the whole school thing was really new to him, luckily the bastard's smart, if he just paid a tad bit of attention on the lessons his grades would sky-rocket.

Shika has cut his hair since then, and changed most of his clothes. But it was years before he did that, years of verbal and psychical abuse in school. And truth to tell I don't really think he went unaffected trough all those years of bullying. It's kind of weird now, how our tables have turned. I used to be the one defending him, but now it's the other way around. I think the kids got tired of picking on Shika, since he barely ever cried or bothered with them, and then we turned twelve and other things then whose parents are weird got interesting. That's when I and Shika started walking the nerd path trough school; it's an easy way of avoiding conflicts and to hide away from attention. There's few at school that actually knows I live in a trailer, most of them still thinks I live in that nice house down on Orange Road. I miss that house badly, but dad took it away with his constant gambling on the road and mom started drinking. My sister got knocked up at fifteen and moved in with her boyfriend and that left me alone at the age of thirteen. For a few months I almost lived at Shikas, avoiding my new "home" as much as possible. Shame can burn, oh so badly.

Said lazy teenager breaks my circle of thoughts by slumping down on his king sized bed, and for not being that big he takes up an awful lot of place. I wonder where I'm going to fit in. Tossing himself on the bed like that, he made his shirt ride high practically exposing more of his stomach then what I have seen all summer. Tearing my eyes from him, what the hell am I doing ogling him up and down either way, I make my way over to the cd player, curious about what star watching music there's playing this time. Yeah, the kid's psycho. He actually stays up late to sit in his window and look at the stars. When I asked him about it back in the days, he mumbled something about 'that's the only time when it's calm'. There's a lot more to Shika then what he lets know, and sometimes I think I've only seen the half of him. I've watched the night skies together with him a few times, but I've always managed to fall asleep or get bored in the middle of it and wander of doing something else. Standing there in front of his wooden bookshelf with all his cds and books I suddenly wonder if he's disappointed with me for not understanding his affection with the space, for not being able to share that with him. When I turn around to ask him about it, I notice he already has his nose in another book so I leave him be. Instead I force my attention back to the stereo and press play, immediately the music surrounds us, but not in my usual ear deafening volume, instead it's soft, typical background music. Shika barely ever listen loud, and when he does you know something's wrong. It's too much to call Shikas sound system groovy, but it's awesome all right. There's speakers placed all around the room, so when you stand in the middle you're completely surrounded by sounds.

-"Oh, Switchfoot?.. how come?" I ask when I finally recognise the tune playing. I think the song is called Stars or something; it fits pretty good you know, for star watching… see Stars, and star watching that kind of thing. God, sometimes I'm so stupid it almost hurts. Shika just spares me a glance from over neat his book, he's probably thinking the same thing as I am, what a retard´. –"Sweetheart, stop being so bitchy" I say laughing and tackle him in the bed, trying to engage him in something else then reading, something like worrying about our future at this new high school, and I kind of wanted to ask if I could borrow a shirt of him. Mine are all so old and worn, they practically looks like rags. I'm exaggerating a little, but I think Shika knows how ashamed I am over always looking second-hand. Not saying I want to follow the latest trends, but the purple t-shirt with bananas on I'm wearing right now, it can't even be concerned as grungy cool, it's just ridiculous. But it was the only clean one left; I have to remember to do some laundry when I get home if I don't get that shirt from Shika. If I do get it, laundry can wait. It's not that fun to make the washing machine work, besides it'll be no wonder if we're out of washing powder.

But whatever, my clothes are still not improving my image. This year I want someone else then Shika, and a few other shallow friends to like me. Someone like, eh, a girl… yeah a girl, or well simply someone, romantically, kisses and stuff. I start blabbering about all this with Shika, accidentally slipping in if I could borrow his red t-shirt tomorrow. As usually he listens more then he talks but I'm content with that, it's enough that he stays my friend trough the good times and the bad. And besides it's a nice thing he doesn't talk as much as me, if he did we'd fight all the time over who's turn it is to speak.

The cd goes on repeat as the afternoon passes by. Of Shikas odd behaviour earlier there's not a trace, nothing but the slight flinch when I called him sweetheart. After a while I start walking around the room, moving over to where his drums are, noticing the thick layer of dust on them. –"Forgot to clean this?" I ask, not really asking about his cleaning skills, more wondering if he gave up drumming without telling me. We used to talk about starting a band, back when my guitar still worked that is. –"Nope, they're resting" he replies, barely even looking at the drums. His double meanings are always a lot harder to understand then what mine is. What exactly did he mean with that? It most probably was some hint for me, to fix my own instrument up. I know Shika loves music too, usually that's one of the few things he isn't lazy about.

–"Hey Shika, I was thinking" I say, sitting down again beside him on the bed. Something in my voice makes him put the book down for real and glance up at me with a worried look in his face, he knows I want something more then just borrowing a shirt this time. –"You know…" I continue, looking down, avoiding his eyes and tracing circles on his plaid blanket, -"we're almost sixteen now, and, um…", I get quiet. Damn it's hard to get the words out. I've been thinking about this for a while, so it shouldn't be hard, usually I'm to straight forward and blurt everything out directly, act before I think so to say. But this has been circling my mind for a month now, and I've finally decided I need to ask, or else I won't get any sleep. –"What Kiba?" he asks, his voice indifferent, but I know he's curious since he asked, normally he'd wait for me to continue, even it would mean waiting forever. I breath in, it's now or never, hell if he says no, we could laugh about it later. –"Yeah, well, I know for fact you haven't kissed anyone yet, and see, eh, neither have I, and that's kind of embarrassing…", I trail of and by now Shika's staring wide eyed at me, looking more then afraid and I continue –"So, I figured we need to practise. The girls won't think it's cool if we don't know how to kiss, you know…" I grin and await his reaction. –" So… by that you mean?" he says, his voice insecure and his eyes flickering between the two of us. Hell, Shika, you're open minded, you should know where I'm going with this, I curse him mentally. He's making me do all the dirty work. –"Can I kiss you?" I ask quickly, hoping he'll catch the words any way. Apparently he did, because for a brief second he looks like I've burned him. What's up with him today?

I mean, this is almost normal, it's not like we're turning gay or anything by kissing, it's just good practice for the future, for the ladies… I tell him this, and he stares at me, a lot paler then usual. It's kind of funny, that I manage to get underneath his skin like this. It's not often Shika is lost for words. –"Come on, I promise I won't bite" I say, my voice sounding more serious then what I wanted it to be. When he backs away a little from me and sits up, I realise exactly how weird this must be for him. –"Ugh, Shika I'm sorry, forget it…" I look away, scratching my neck, trying to think of a way to make all this undone. A few small sounds are heard from Shika, like he has to struggle to get the words out, and I can't help but to look at him. And now what, the kid's blushing. A few strands of his hair have escaped his ponytail, and if I squint my eyes he almost, note the words almost, looks like a cute girl. –"It's okay" he whispers and look up, apparently he collected himself and now he's the calm himself again. Against my will my heart starts to race, my first real kiss. I bite my lip while inching closer, when I'm two centimetres from his face, Shika closes his eyes, and in the late afternoon sun his eyelashes castes unrealistically long shadows across his cheeks. Gently I brush some of his bangs aside, amazed that his skin is so soft. Amazingly Shika doesn't flinch at my touch; I don't even think he's breathing. He might be calm on the outside, but his whole body screams tense and I know I'm scaring him badly right now. He agreed on this because he's my friend, because I wanted it. Not because it was his idea, and not because he likes it. Real friends are the best I conclude as I let my lips graze his; a sudden breath from him makes the both of us jump and the space between us grow. His brown-green eyes flutters open, and for the first time I notice how strange they really are. We stare at each others a few seconds, both letting the feelings sink in; we're still so close that I know he can feel my breath across his cheeks, and I wonder why he doesn't move away. It's too close for best friends, and too far away for lovers. I still want the kiss though, but everything is really screwed up now. I don't really know where we stand, or what to do?

It probably was a really bad idea from the beginning. I don't know what I was thinking about, correction: I did know: my future. I mean what if I met this really kick-ass girl tomorrow or some other day in our new school, and we start dating or whatever, and then I can't kiss her. That must be like the ultimate embarrassment ever. I already got loser painted across my forehead, I don't want it to be more obvious then what it really is. A small movement form Shika, makes me look up. He's inching away a little, still looking at me, but I can't read anything in his face. The hair I tried to tuck away has fallen back again, and out of instinct I reach out and brush it back behind his ears. Shikas eyes widen visible as I do this, but it's too late, I already done the damage, so I decide to continue all the way. Fumbling I reach forward and grab his hand, pressing my lips against his again. He pulls back, but I follow, all senses gone out the window. His breathing is rapid and I wonder why I stay so calm, maybe my brain shut down or something, not being able to cope with the crazy stuff I put it trough. Shikas mouth tastes of those mint apple sweets he's always chewing on and what to do now? And then he grabs my shoulder with his free hand and shows me away. He sits back up, glaring at me, with red tainting his face. –"Don't ever kiss a girl like that…" he hisses and breaks out in one of those rare smiles of his. I'm dumbfounded, what the fuck! Was I that bad? Insecurely I grin back, he isn't mad at me?