This is, in fact, my first fanfiction. While I've done writing before, I haven't tried to do anything like this. I suppose I'll continue if people enjoy it?
If I had one wish it would be that my life was somewhat ordinary and I could be an ordinary child. This had the same likelihood as a turtle out-speeding a rabbit. Impossible, improvable, down-right unlikely. With both the mental conditions I have, and the amount of times I must switch up friends it grows rather hard to keep a consistent pattern.
This has always been a well-known fact of my life, I hadn't even a set group of friends as a child. While I did have some nice friendships here and there, people tended to avoid me. Or at the very least, they would leave after a meager month or two of acquaintanceship. I didn't mind, or, well, I was far too used to it. I suppose they have reason to avoid me, my outbursts often annoyed or frightened others. Though I had little control over this. Whatever.
My fingers lace around the button-up shirt. It was nearly identical to many of the others littering my room, as I liked the texture of this brand. It was soft. Calming.
I liked the feeling.
The buttons were lazily done, though each button was through its correct hole. Unlike when I was younger, I'm now able to put the shirts on correctly. I couldn't honestly be expected not to fix that, as a highschooler it would be quite embarrassing to be incapable of buttoning a simple shirt. I wasn't stupid, even if people choose to believe otherwise.
Slugging my book-bag over my shoulder, I stumble down the stairs of my small house down to the living room. It was clean, really clean. His mother wished for everything to be pristine and perfect. It was overwhelmingly clean, but that also was endearing, somehow. I shuffle into the kitchen before grabbing my favorite thermos, pouring the coffee from the pot that his parents brewed an hour or so ago.
This was routine. I like this part of the day. It was simple, followed an orderly fashion. Not like the rest. The day could have any number of problems, ranging from simple therapist appointments to someone choosing me as their next punching bag. My parents could leave for a few days, they will now and again, after all. I could slip and fall, smashing my head on the side of a rock. Bombs could go off, destroying the entirety of South park. There were too many risks leaving my house. I have to go, nonetheless. I legally have to go to school.
As soon as the coffee was properly mixed with a spoonful of sugar and a tad of milk, I drag myself out the door. Due to the rather small size of the town, school was within walking distance of everyone's house. This was nice, in my opinion. I don't know how other children feel about it. I don't listen.
I always try to arrive at school earlier than needed. This gave me time to relax, drink my coffee, and perhaps finish up any unfinished busy work the teacher chose to give me. Today was a good day, as I had succeeded in this task. I found a seat on a bench near my first period and wasted little time to close my eyes and sip on the sweet nectar of coffee. I was calm, ready for anything life decided to throw at me.
Or so I had originally thought.
It wasn't like I hadn't heard the footsteps approaching me, though I passed them off as the simply someone attempted to walk to the bathroom. Or somewhere other than the bench I currently resided upon. This was a bad assumption, apparently, as a soft thud could be heard and the seat vibrated from the sudden weight being placed upon it. My eyes open wide, and my head jerks to see who it was.
"Agh!" I screech, impulsively. The person whom so casually sat next to me was a particular 6'1 football player. One who happened to wear a dull blue hat at all points in time. This kid was Craig Tucker.
I had once been friends with the stoic boy. We were ten or eleven, back when we had a fight. It was funny, how sharing one hospital room can strengthen ones relationship. In fact, I'd go as far as to say were were best friends as young children, but that was then and this is now.
He didn't speak, just sat there, playing with his smartphone idly. It was strange, having someone sit next to me. That never happened, at least not often. While Butters or Thomas may occasionally stop by and say hello, then tended to great me upon sitting. Craig clearly did not. Perhaps he had no intention of it.
"U-uh, hi Craig!" I squeak out, gently, carefully. Fearfully. I couldn't help but be nervous about the whole thing, and the reasoning for him choosing to sit next to me was much a mystery.
He gave a simple grunt for response. Neither of us speak for the rest of the time. I simply go back to sipping my coffee carefully, and he returned to playing on his phone. Eventually he even goes as far as to put his headphones in, drowning out any outburst I may have.
It was kind of... calming.
