no thank you please

A/N: I'm so sorry for this.

I begin my travel up the stairs hastily, taking long strides and gripping the hand rail like I'm being faced with ten million Daddy Long Legs. I feel myself going weak in the knees at the thought, but before I can fall down the stairs while blanching at the thought of such a horrendous fate, I pull myself up again and manage to make it all the way up the stairs and into the hallway that suddenly seems at least a few miles long.

Oh, God, I'm starting to freak out. I only realize this when I look into the mirror that Serena's mom hung in the hallway and see Calem staring back- not the tan hunk that Serena last dated. I really feel bad about myself now.

… Cue self-loathing. I guess that Mom is right about me being a lot like Serena, with my pickiness for how I look. Was I always this pale? My hair looks weird; I should've brought my hat. I can't believe I left it at home. Are those dark circles? Now I don't feel like I can stand up to doing this. Actually, I probably couldn't, anyway.

I start back down the stairs, happy that I've reached the conclusion that my best friend is seriously way too attractive for a guy who worries about not looking like said best friend's last boyfriend.

But you know what?

That doesn't matter, because I'm never, ever, ever going to tell Serena how I feel about her anyway, because movies are a bunch of bull. It's so obvious that a modern-day romance is totally not happening between the two of us, because I'm both a coward and meek in comparison to every other guy that probably lives on the face of the planet. My best friends both seem like they would be able to hook up with Serena, no problem, and easily get a second date.

Sure, Trevor's not exactly Green Oak, but he's got the cute vibe going for him. Also, he's really smart. Apparently, chicks dig the 'intelligent' vibe; I wouldn't actually know. I'm scraping past Advanced Algebra with a C plus. I mean, if I were a girl, I'd probably be staring at Trevor in class. Admittedly, I do have a guy-crush on him (it's not like that; otherwise I wouldn't be here. It's like those weird girl crushes that girls get sometimes.), if only because he's probably the cutest male specimen to walk the earth.

Tierno's big, but he's cool, and he always has some awesome form of transportation. He's super nice, too. I'm not exactly mean, but I'm no Good-Guy Tierno. He offers people rides constantly, whether it be on his motorbike or in his rad car. Gas is expensive, too. He comes from a wealthy family, though, so I guess that it's no big hit on his family's funds. His hats look awesome, too. Also, what girl doesn't like a guy with sweet moves? He has a left foot and a right foot metaphorically, for sure.

I have no good dance moves, my hat looks like it belongs in some Obliva woman fashion's line, and I don't even have a car, despite me working at just above minimum wage six days a week for three years. I'm eighteen.

I realize that I've been drifting on and off in my focus of where I'm going when I feel that there's nothing under my feet, and just before my face slams into the ground because I've tripped down the stairs, I catch myself on the railing with both hands and do a cool swing-around. I land in a pretty awesome Bruce Lee pose in the kitchen, which is right across from the main stairway landing, and nod at Serena's mom.

"Good morning, Calem." She's chipper, as usual, and flipping chocolate chip pancakes with her Mama don't take no sass apron on. She offers one to me, but I decline before heading for the door. I open it, laughing a bit at the markings on the inner edge of it since I remember making those marks to show Shauna that yes, I was indeed taller than her in third grade. I begin my descent from the porch, my foot just about to land on the third step. I'm almost out; no more worrying about doing something stupid in front of Serena!

I run into Serena's dad on the way out, and before I can get out, he grabs the back of my jacket and literally shoves me back inside, slamming the door shut. I'm happy that Serena's a heavy sleeper, because otherwise I would be dealing with a whiny Serena, a matchmaker father, and a mother who I'm not really sure does anything but make pancakes.

Briefly, before shooing me into the living room, the tall, broad-shouldered man gives his wife a greeting wave. He's just gotten back from a business trip, as far as I know, in Rustboro City in the Hoenn region. I've heard that it's hot there, which sounds horrible, so I wonder if that's why he smells like heat and dead plants. I figure that that's what he always smells like, though, so I just move on with my life and don't question it.

"So, Calem, what are you doing here this lovely Saturday morning?"

"I wanted to tell Serena about my undying love for her."

Serena's dad just nods his head, his gaze turning scrutinizing, and I feel really uncomfortable by now. I lean a bit toward Serena's usual spot on the couch, as though she's there, and when I don't feel my head pressing against the top of hers with her own head awkwardly placed between the couch cushion and my shoulder, I feel like I'm about to fall over. I quickly correct that and sit up straight again.

"Calem, this is the third time this week. How many times has Shauna bribed you with McDonald's?"

"Far too many, sir," I answer gravely, feeling the remains of the sixteen-ounce hot chocolate residing in my stomach from four-thirty this morning weigh heavily for a few moments. I lean back into the couch cushions and think about how wonderful it would be if I weren't a complete coward, who also happened to love McDonald's.

"This is getting to be an issue."

"Indeed."

We're both just sitting here now, staring at our laps wearily.

"Well, then, my boy, get up there and get it over with."

It only takes me a moment to realize that he's basically allowing me access to his sleeping daughter's room while he's not there. I think that he knows that I know that he'll beat me up and ship my mangled remains to my mother if I try anything, though, so that's probably why he's not insisting that he tag along.

"Okay."

XXX

I don't quite feel as insecure anymore, but I still feel incredibly awkward when I walk into Serena's room and see her under her standard pink duvet, perfect head resting on a light pink pillow with her perfect hair splayed across her face and around her neck like it's trying to strangle her. I take a moment to stare at her totally angelic snot-and-drool covered face, basking in the glory of being bestowed the great honor to gaze upon my best friend in a sleeping state. I'm tempted to take pictures on my phone.

(I actually do end up taking one, or possibly twenty, before realizing that this is getting borderline stalkerish and I need to stop taking pictures or I won't have any more memory for other pictures.)

I suddenly feel my hand reaching out for her face, and before I even know what's happening, I'm poking her cheek and rubbing her forehead, exploring her face with my hands even though I've literally seen it one billion times before (that's a rough estimate).

I feel my face heating up at just being around her, and being able to touch her so casually. I know that I touch her every time that I see her- whether it be a greeting hug or an awesome high-five for doing something cool, like paying for the McDonald's orders or for taking her home on my bike from school- but it's still exhilarating for a guy like me (basically, a guy who has four people he hangs out with and otherwise exists to no one) to actually get to be around my life-long crush. I've probably loved her since we were toddlers, if not longer; I'm actually surprised that she hasn't noticed. It seems that everybody else does, including her boyfriends, which makes it incredibly awkward when I'm around them.

I start hyperventilating, because I think that I'm about to have a heart attack from the amount of sudden pressure I feel, like the feeling that Serena's dad is right outside the carefully-shut door in case of sudden embarrassing moments.

Calm down, Calem. It's no big deal; so, you're in your best friend-slash-crush's room, and you're touching her face while she sleeps. It's no big deal, right? You're not going to die or anything.

Right?

When I notice that she's awake, still a bit sleep-ridden but still awake nonetheless, I meet her eyes. I feel like she's staring into my soul.

"Good morning, sunshine," I greet her, and I'm literally sweating bullets because I know that now I'm just being stupid. I slap her cheek a little bit and watch for her reaction; when she doesn't respond, just lies there in a daze, I keep going, quite idiotically. "The day is gorgeous, kind of like your face, and the sky is bright like your, um, bedroom walls. How'd you sleep?"

Serena suddenly sits up, and I step back, retracting my hand from where it is on her cheek as quickly as I can like I just touched fire. It kind of burns like that, so the reference actually makes sense, sort of. When she starts to open her mouth I turn tail and bolt down the stairs, because I just realize how stupid I must have sounded. I arrive in the kitchen moments later and dive under the table, shaking my head hastily at Serena's mom before accepting a perfectly-cooked chocolate chip pancake and nibbling it, anxiously awaiting Serena's descent from upstairs. In an awkward squatting position, I try to think of McDonald's and other sacred things as I repeatedly slam my head into the underside of the marble tabletop while cursing my horrible ways with words.

"Serena normally takes ten minutes to wake up, right?" I ask Serena's mom, graciously accepting one chocolate chip pancake after the other, cramming them into my mouth as soon as I can feel their fluffy, delicious forms grace my fingertips with the freshly-cooked heat that can only emanate from pancakes.

"That's right." I ignore Serena's mom's slightly disturbed look at the fact that I should probably be choking to death while writing on the floor since I've eaten more than five pancakes in under two minutes with no drink, but I ignore it. I've had practice with plenty of McDonald's pancake orders when they had no more syrup or butter and I only had enough money for the pancakes alone.

"Good." I have a little while to come up with an explanation that doesn't make me sound like a freak or an abductor to Serena, which will be difficult, but also extremely worth it, if I can manage to pull it off.

I enjoy the next few minutes squatting under the dining table in Serena's home, mouth filled with chocolate chip pancakes and listening with pleasure to the heavenly sound of pancakes sizzling on a pan, trying to forget about the fact that this is Serena's house and I'll have to face her within the next ten minutes, if I can't get away with hiding for that long.

XXX

Ten minutes later, Serena does, indeed, come down from upstairs, still in her pajamas and with her hair still wild from sleep. There's a spot of drool on her cheek that I notice immediately, and she wipes it away as she starts towards the dining table after nodding at her dad.

"Mom, where's Calem?"

I silently pray that Serena's mom isn't so focused on her pancakes that she doesn't sense my inner turmoil at what happened, while marveling at the fact that she kept that Bless this mess embroidery cloth that I totally did not make, and actually hung it up next to the fridge. I actually feel myself tearing up with manly tears at the thought of the polite gesture, even though we all know that I'm horrible at embroidery.

Forget I said that.

"He's at his house, darling, most likely sleeping." Thank you, Serena's mom. You've never been so kind.

"Oh. Okay." She sounds doubtful, but accepts her mom's statement without further question.

Serena then proceeds to take a seat, right next to where I'm hiding, and I can't move because otherwise she'll notice that I'm under here. I thank her mother for not being completely evil this time (she had no mercy last time; I spent an entire hour explaining to Serena that I was most definitely not raiding her closet for my next fashion show, and that only happened once and went onto YouTube because of Shauna because Shauna, I swear, is absolute Hellspawn and nothing else.) and scuttle over a bit so that Serena won't feel my jacket when she wiggles her toes while digging into her pancakes enthusiastically while I'm holding my breath. I think my face is turning blue, and I'm actually starting to feel lightheaded.

With a loud clatter that makes about the same sound as my high-pitched wails due to heart failure that should be approaching any moment, Serena's fork lands on the floor right in front of me, and when Serena leans down in her chair to pick up the utensil, ending up looking me right in the eyes, I actually can justify that my heart did, indeed, have a moment of failure, despite the lack of womanly shrieks that would regularly follow for me.

She leans back up, sits straight and replaces her fork on her plate, and leans back down to meet my eyes. I sit there, with my knees pulled up to my chest in possibly the most uncomfortable position known to man, while meeting my life-long crush's confused gaze.

"How long have you been here?" She asks me, eyes narrowing slightly in her confusion. Her lip juts out slightly in a pout that I recognize immediately, and I know that if I don't answer soon then she'll get upset that I'm not giving her answers; she's relatively impatient.

"Since seven this morning," I answer quickly, keeping my eyes trained on hers. Sure, that might be a little bit later than I actually came (six-thirty; Shauna is very good at bribing people), but hey; I got some free breakfast out of it, which totally rocks.

I scowl when I hear Serena's mom chuckle in the background, and I know that if Serena asks, then her mom totally doesn't have my back. Thanks a lot, Serena's mom.

"Why are you here, Calem? I thought that you said, quite clearly amidst your womanly shrieks last time this happened, 'never again.' What's up?" Serena's obviously trying to hold in her giggles, placing a hand at her lips, lips pinched and the corners of her eyes crinkling merrily. I feel impending doom approaching; I can avoid the question, but it'll only work for so long.

So, I decide that it's the right moment to shove the rest of my chocolate chip pancake in my mouth while standing hastily, banging my head on the inner corner of the table and one of its heavy legs in the process, quickly crawling out from under the table and sprinting to the door, clutching my head in one of my hands because it really hurts and I think I'm bleeding. Serena looks on, confused as ever while attempting to comb out her unruly locks of ash-blonde hair.

Her dad offers me a "Nice try, son" before opening the door for me, stepping out of the way when I turn around, panting heavily, panicked eyes meeting her own sleepy ones. Gripping the door handle in my quaking hand, I stand there in the doorframe for a few minutes, holding Serena's gaze easily, and finally take a step back.

"I regret nothing," I bellow, and slam the door behind me.

I spend the rest of the morning in my room on my bed with an ice pack over the left side of my head, staring at a picture of my best friend-slash-crush's sleeping face, and thinking about how I'm a complete idiot, all the while assigning myself a wonderful new screensaver.

A/N: Posted because my best friend has a horrid sense of humor (which is probably why we get along), and insisted that I post this. I really do apologize to everyone who's read this, you poor souls.

The only thing that I don't completely regret about writing this is that I got to make Calem such a neurotic little stupid and gained the ability to advertise Trevor and his wonderful little self. He is possibly the most precious video game character in my eyes since Silver or Green Oak (or Serena. I totally have a girl crush on her).

But really, guys, I seriously am sorry for this. I apologize from the bottom of my heart to everyone who read this and didn't like it, because to be honest, I literally just proofread it and burst out laughing and crying from both how hilariously stupid it was and how upset I was that I happened to be the author of this.