DISCLAIMER: The song used in this fic is not mine. It belongs to The Academy Is. The song is called 'About A Girl,' in case you're curious.
Clique isn't mine as well, unfortunately. I would make it so much better than the crap Lisi Harrison offers, don't you think? :]

WARNINGS: Death. Insane jealousy. Insanity, even. Desperation. Obsession. Love. Infatuation. Forgotten.

COUPLINGS: Dylan Marvil & Chris Plovert.

A/N: Enjoy, (:

One song about a girl
Can't breathe when I'm around her
I wait here everyday
In case she'll scratch the surface
She'll never notice...

I watch as she walks. I hear the laugh in her throat, I crave the smile on her lips, the sparkle in her eye… When is she not happy? When is she not smiling? My breath hitches as she walks past me, hoping… Praying that just once, she'd look my way. I don't even need a smile, just one glance.

It doesn't happen.

I shove my hands into my pockets and walk away. I feel the weight of the burden that comes with unrequited love on my shoulders, my head bent at the neck. I'm used to the frown on my lips, my slouch of depression.

I'm not in love
This is not my heart
I'm not gonna waste these words
About a girl

I watch him out of the corner of me eye. God, he's gorgeous. It's a part of my daily ritual, walking past him… Staring at him so slyly no one notices. Why doesn't he ever talk to me? Smile at me? He barely looks at me. He's staring at the magic of the Pretty Committee, not me.

At least, that's what I tell myself, because nothing's worse than having your hopes rise to the peak, and then having them dropped so easily.

I need to get over this guy. It should be easy. You know why?

It's nothing. I don't care about him. It's not even close to love, it's just an explosion of colors when I see him, a warm feeling everywhere when I hear his voice…

That isn't love, is it?

Last night, I knew what to say
But you weren't there to hear it
These lines, so well rehearsed
Tongue-tied and overloaded
You never notice

I watch the two stare at each other. Jealousy fills all of me. What's so great about her? Why not me? I'm much prettier than she is, more feminine than she is, such a better dancer than she is. I don't burp all the time, I don't make weird jokes and fart in public. I never eat in front of guys, either. So what's so great about her? What about me?

Did everyone forget about Alicia Rivera?

I get out a piece of paper and start writing a letter. I'm going to send it.

To Dylan, the girl who stole my admirer.

To Chris Plovert, the guy who forgot just how great I am and how much better I am.

Because Alicia River does not like being forgotten.

I'm not in love
This is not my heart
I'm not gonna waste these words
About a girl

I find a note in my locker.

I open it.

Chris Plovert, it begins. I read the rest, and my mouth drops.

Dylan Marvil sent me a letter. I push up my glasses and re-read the note. Hurry hurry hurry!

I know. I know of your feelings. And the truth is, I don't return them. A crush doesn't always lead to something more, something like… Love. My crush for you was a pastime, and I'm sorry you took it to mean something more than that. Let's just go back to the way we were before this whole mess. Not talking to each other. Not caring. Not knowing.

Not staring.

-Dylan Marvil

Oh… This wasn't what I'd hoped it to be. I shove it back into my locker and try not to cry. So it was all a lie. Her feelings for me... And what's worse, she knew how I'd felt about her.

She knew I had loved her. This was humiliating.

I had to stop it before word got out. Because even if she didn't care for me and I didn't care about her anymore, I had to save my pride. That was the only reason I was going to do this, right? Not because I couldn't stand loving her and not having that love returned. Not because of that.

I run home and grab a gun. The weight of it is heavy in my hands. But that's alright.

It'll keep me distracted when I kill Dylan Marvil.

To be loved, to be loved
What more could you ask for?
To be loved, to be loved
Everyone wants to be loved, to be loved
What more could you ask for?
To be loved, to be loved
Everyone

I find a note in my locker.

I open it.

Dylan Marvil, it starts. I run my eyes over the rest of the note and whimper softly.

Chris Plovert sent me a letter. I shove my curls away from my eyes and re-read the note. Faster, faster, faster!

Look, Dylan. I've seen you staring at me. It's kind of… creepy. I know you have a crush on me, and maybe your feelings have gotten stronger since then. But after the whole burping and farting and monkey fart jokes… I don't see a girl who can be liked in that way. You're more of a friend. A buddy. A brother, even, with girl parts and a girl face and a girl voice.

A boy who has everything a girl has. Except for manners, that is.

Sorry if this hurts. But can we just stay brothers? I'll be a good brother, I promise.

-Chris Plovert

Oh, my God… He couldn't be serious. A brother? Except for manners? I felt tears well up in my eyes, and ran to the bathroom. I cried for a long period. All of third period, actually. And eventually, when the tears stopped and my face looked normal again, and I waltzed into the classroom and blamed my absence on bad sushi (why did everyone fall for that? Wasn't it getting old now?), I knew what I had to do.

To save my pride. To stop this from getting out of hand and spreading all over the schools. Rumors could be painful. I knew that from experience.

That was all I was doing, really. That's the only reason why I'm going to do this. Not because I couldn't stand loving him and not having that love returned. Not because of that. I'm just trying to save my reputation to stay in the Pretty Committee. Without the Pretty Committee, what else did I have?

I run home and grab a gun. The weight of it is heavy in my hands. But that's alright.

It'll keep me distracted when I kill Chris Plovert.

I'm not in love (To be loved, to be loved, what more could you ask for?)
This is not your song (To be loved, to be loved, everyone)
I'm not gonna waste these words (wants to be loved, to be loved)
About a girl

I'm at the funeral.

A double-funeral.

How… sad. Ironic.

But as I listen to that fat pastor drone on and on and people around me sobbing and crying and wailing, I couldn't help it. I couldn't stop the slow smile that crept over my lips.

Alicia Rivera would never again be forgotten.

Review.