Author's Note: I found a picture that says, "It's so nice when toxic people stop talking to you. It's like the trash took itself out." I sent it to delightisadream and said, "Demma scenario. Go." She then came up with the following. I decided to write it into a fic. This took about half an hour. Enjoy.

Notice: This is OT3-verse. Daniel is not creepy; he is funny-douchey. He and Emma don't get along. Mention of weed usage. Some stuff might confuse you since only delightisadream and I know everything about this verse. If any of those things are not for you, that's fine; please just move along and refrain from being rude in the reviews.

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Takin' Out the Trash by lovethatignites

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It was approximately 7:04 pm when Emma Alonso stepped outside to take out her family's trash.

It was approximately three seconds past 7:04 pm when Daniel Miller also stepped outside to take out his family's trash.

Emma braced herself for the verbal sparring that was sure to ensue. For the past three nights, her ex-boyfriend had been making it a point to come outside at the exact same time as her, only to call out insults or other bizarre commentary just to irritate her.

However, as Emma dropped the garbage bag topped off with left-over slightly-burnt spaghetti (made by her dad, pushed around atop her plate by Emma, barely touched by Jax... who was still under her coffee table...) into her family's trash can, it became crystal clear tonight's encounter with Daniel would not follow the script. Her ex was flailing down his family's walkway, stumbling over his own two feet. It appeared his eyes were closed, yet he somehow found his way to the trash can. Rather than drop the bag of garbage inside, however, he lifted his long leg and threw it in instead. Emma's eyes narrowed and her jaw dropped halfway in disgust.

Raising her voice to carry across the street, Emma complained, "Daniel, if you have to take the trash out at the same time as me, can you at least not turn your high-eyes on?"

Daniel looked up from where his leg was now stuck in his family's garbage and snorted. "Wait," he called out. He worked to pull his leg from the bin, urging once again, "Wait." Once he finally got his leg out (why had he thrown it in in the first place?!), he began to stumble his way across the street. "Hold on," he said, dropping his family's bag of garbage right in the middle of the road and instead using his hand to rummage around in his pocket for his phone.

This far into senior year, Emma really should've been used to her ex's strange behavior, but somehow, he still managed to surprise her. And not in the good way. There were enough stoners at IHS for her to know weed did not have this insane of an effect on one's mental state. Therefore, she got the impression most of what Daniel was currently doing was just him being his weird self.

He arrived at her trash can, standing way too close for comfort, and thrust his phone into her face. She exaggeratedly leaned back and took a look at the screen.

It was a picture with some words on it, white lettering, black background. It read: It's so nice when toxic people stop talking to you. It's like the trash took itself out.

Emma's jaw really dropped this time. The anger didn't flood her in waves; it very slowly crept up her spine.

"I—I can't even—tenth-grade you—" She spluttered, unable to find the right words. He was calling her trash?! Had he seen pictures of his hair from tenth grade?! And he had always been the one to break up with her! How—how dare he—

Suddenly, Emma ripped the phone out of her ex's hand, wound her arm back, and released it on the forward throw. The phone soared through the air until it made contact with the concrete several meters down the road. A loud crack! echoed through the still Miami air as the phone split right in half.

Daniel looked on and snorted.

Now Emma was furious. Who reacted like that?! He was so odd! "Daniel, that was your phone breaking!" she informed him. Given his current state—given him—he really might not have known what just happened despite watching it happen with his own two high-eyes.

Daniel snorted again and told her easily, "That was your phone."

Emma, feeling the solid outline of her phone pressing against the front of her thigh, securely tucked away in the front pocket of her sweats, was seriously beginning to contemplate asking her dad to order this boy a psychiatric evaluation. "Daniel...," she began, reaching into her pocket, intending on showing him her phone was still clearly right here.

But before she could, Daniel cut her off. "Listen, I gotta go, Emma, so if you could just—" He flipped open the lid of the Alonsos' trash can and motioned inside. "—climb right in then my work here will be done."

Emma couldn't say how long she blinked up at him, tongue touching the corner of her lips, deep in thought while simultaneously thinking nothing at all. What she did know was when she finally turned around and walked herself back inside her family's house, her ex's phone was still laying broken in half on the side of the road, her ex was still holding open her trash can, and her boyfriend was still lying underneath her coffee table, groaning.

Of all the lives in Miami, Emma strongly wished she had any one but hers.