Hi! I'm glad you're reading this! It means a lot, really, but there are many things I would like to say first. They are very important, so don't skip through, friend.
I think it's best to start this off with what you need to know most.
First, I am NOT romanticizing suicide, self-harm, or mental disorders such as depression and bipolar. That is not my intention at all.
There is not one scene here where Near kisses Mello's scars or how Mello is in love with Near's depression and thinks it's "tragically beautiful."
Instead, you will see all the characters, suffering, struggling and scared to see loved ones like this, just like ANYONE would in real life. The characters might not be real, but these are real feelings they are experiencing throughout the story. So if you think this is a romance story because Mello hurts himself and Near is overwhelmed with depression and anxieties and pills and whatnot, this is not what you are looking for.
If you are looking for a story like this; I advise you to stop. Suicide and self-harm are not beautiful or romantic. Period. It's pain, it's scary and it's fucking horrible.
Now that you you got that through your head, let's move on to other very important agendas.
Trigger warnings:
Above, I have already stated themes that are mental disorders, suicide, and self-harm.
There is also drug abuse, and use of pills. (Medication.)
Other things you might look out for are:
Potty mouths. Lots of potty mouths. If you hate profanity, I'm sorry; Mello and Matt cuss 24/7 in the story; (Along with a few other characters!)
Fist fights.
Yes, there is sex. No, there is no smut/lemon.
That aside, here are story disclaimers:
I try hard to make Mello and Near in character, and to be honest, in my opinion, they quite are. So it Matt, judging from the few panels we see him in.
Characters that are OOC, that would be mostly Light. But that does not mean there won't be any Easter Eggs. Yeah, there are a lot of Easter Eggs.
Anthony Rester - Yeah, he's pretty OOC, but I can say that he IS Near's father figure and guardian, just like Death Note: How To Read 13 states.
Stephen Gevanni - Yup, OOC! But what can I do? Easter Eggs!
Mikami - He's not that OOC, when you read into him. You'll see so much of Easter Eggs in his part, you won't even notice the difference.
Halle - OOC! She's more fun and loud mouthed here! But, other than that, don't expect any drastic changes.
Rod - Rod is not so much in here, but we can assume he's not that in character considering he is married to our one and only Halle. But two words - Easter Eggs!
Misa - I have no idea why I am putting her in this list, she's pretty in character, but there's one or two parts where she's not so Misa-Misa.
Our wonderful Matsuda - He's still the lovable, cute geek that he is, but there's just a bit of loose OOC screws in there.
There are minor OCs you'll see in here too, but they don't play big parts at all; they're just there.
Story telling: First person. Mello and Near's POVs. Mello gets every odd chapter and Near gets every even chapter. I am using everyone's real names. Mello Mihael Keehl, Near Nate River, Matt Mail.
Onto settings; This takes place in New York City, a year after 9/11.
Last few words:
Well, I hope you already get by now that this is an AU. (Alternate Universe)
I will also be stating the TW in each chapter, because I care about your comfort.
TW in this Chapter would be mention of cutting, and mention of use of medication.
Blah, blah, blah, I don't own Death Note! Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata do.
And most of all - Enjoy!
Thank you!
Much love,
Jihad.
preface
Monday: Boxing. Tuesday: Therapy. Wednesday: Football. Thursday: Piano & Basketball. Friday: Football Saturday: Soccer Sunday: Group Therapy
I sit in the kitchen munching on chocolate Cheerios, staring at my new 2002 school year's calendar. I go over my new schedule. A definite upgrade from last year.
I move my eyes over to the clock hanging beside mom and dad's calendars.
It's currently six thirty five in the morning on September first, Bronx, New York. I take a breath in.
First day of school.
Junior year. The second year of double digits.
Usually this wasn't a big fucking deal for me. I had tons of friends, fans, and dumb girls that drooled over me. No one bullied me. High school was total bullshit, and I could easily handle it.
The reason I was queasy, was because my whole school thought I've gone missing since December of last year. Then, I was in Russia the whole summer, so I hadn't talked to anyone over break.
People thought I was either dead or kidnapped. I wish I was dead or kidnapped, but unfortunately, I had to come back to school.
I was nervous. I was never nervous for school.
What were they going to think? What were they going to say? Were they going to point at me, gasp that I'm actually alive?
I hate being popular.
But hey, I should be proud. I should. I've wanted to go to Whammy Prep since I was a seventh grader. It was the fanciest high school in Manhattan. Just a few years back, I wanted to go to Whammy more than anything. I would've given up anything to go, and not to mention I seriously worked my ass off for their approval.
Now, three years in, I was accepted, and I was going to be in Manhattan in about half an hour to attend the legendary Whammy Prep for the third time in a row, and I was calm as a Hindu Cow. Calm about the fact I'm still going to my dream High School.
Since I was thirteen, I was hoping I'd work hard enough to stay in until I graduate, and now, I really don't give a flying fuck.
It's funny how people can change so fast.
I wouldn't even care if I was going to a Community High School right now. I was bored of Whammy Prep.
If I was still the old me, I would've been jumping around, screaming "Whammy, Whammy, Whammy!"
But I wasn't. Clearly, I've changed.
Yeah, I'm still confused myself, about if this change was good or bad.
"Mihael, You ready? Whammy Prep here we come!" Halle walks into the kitchen, cheerily pumping her fist in the air. She's my adoptive mother.
She doesn't know I don't give a fuck about going to Whammy Prep. Shh, she can't know.
I hide my true complexion. I have always done this since December. I was better now, but yeah, I still mask my feelings.
I don't want Halle to be disappointed. So I plaster that mask of joy onto my face.
"Whammy!" I cheered with my fake smile, my fake pep, my fake laugh. My fake everything.
"Eat up, and brush, we're gonna go soon." she informed, getting an ice cold water bottle out of the fridge.
It's Monday. This means jogging at the YMCA in the morning for Halle. I look at Mom and Dad's schedule and memorize it when I'm eating my bowl of cereal. Instead of everybody else in the world who needs instant reading material when eating their bowl, I ignored the box and read over Halle's, Rod's, and my schedule.
Everyone reads the box, and does the little puzzles they have printed in the back of it. Maybe stare at the colorful images of the cereal's mascot, jumping around in comic strips.
But not me. I sit here reading over Rod's schedule.
Rod's my adoptive father. He has three conferences today.
"Mm, how long's the ride from Bronx to Manhattan again?" I munch.
"Twenty-three minutes." she answered, knocking back the water bottle between her lips.
"You sure there wont be any terrible traffic? Maybe we should wake up at five or exactly six... Maybe I'll motorcycle there... Maybe I could use the metr-"
"I'm sure there won't be that bad of traffic. I mean school starts at eight, it's only almost seven. We'll get there on time even if there's traffic, hun, don't worry." she waved it off, "If you're that excited about getting back to Whammy, then eat." she ordered after.
But I'm not.
Can I stay here, and get home schooled for the rest of my life?
No. says my rational conscience.
Annoyance pulses through me.
"Wow! You haven't seen Whammy in months! No wonder you're so excited! You must miss seeing all your little friends!" she clapped her hands together.
Stay calm as a Hindu Cow. Don't growl out the real emotions.
It'll be a mess. A messy mess, and you'll have to clean it all up afterward.
"Oh, yeah. Definitely miss them." I grumble sarcastically the moment she jogs back up the stairs to her bedroom.
I garble down the rest of the chocolate Cheerios and paraded to the bathroom, brushed my teeth, and fixed my hair up a bit.
I quickly glance in the mirror.
Confidence.
Hindu cow.
Head on my shoulders.
Though, I look away as fast as I can, I still cringe away from my own reflection. I didn't want to look at myself for more than two seconds. I'm tired of looking at my fucking face. I hate my face. It's too... me.
That's my biggest fear.
Me.
I can't look at myself. Not right now.
I walk out of the bathroom, and my phone vibrates a mini stroke in my jean pocket. It's Mail.
No not, e-Mail, Mail. It's Mail the human being. His name looks like Mail, sounds like Mile.
Mail Jeevas is my only best friend. He's the only who's actually always been there for me. The one who gets me. The one who does good favors. The one I can trust. The one I regret abusing. Oh, and the one who plays video games on end. X-box, Playstation, Gameboy, Nintendo and World of War Craft – He's got it all. The one who stays up all night to masturbate to lesbian porn. The one who always eats unhealthy as fuck; drinks soda pop, eats seven bags of chips, a few candy bars, and three cups of ramen each day but still stays skinny. The one who fans over TV shows and video game fan fiction on the Internet until he'd get tears in his eyes.
He was a total fucking nerd.
But I loved him.
If you haven't been around Mail; you haven't lived. He's a blast, not to sound too cheesy.
The text was asking me where he could meet me before school, and when I was going to be there.
I'm too lazy to reply.
I'm always too lazy to reply.
I stride tiredly to the garage door and start to put on chucks.
"Uh-uh-uh!" Halle stops me with her "stop" jerking tone.
"What?" I groan.
"Wrists." she says, an expectant stink eye narrowing at me.
Long story.
I pull up my sleeves and she looks at my bare arms. She closely scans over them for any signs of what she didn't want to see.
The stink eye fades, and instead comes an approving smile that tugged the corners of her mouth with pride.
"Good! Five weeks, honey, five weeks!" she said giddy.
"Yeah, great." I fake smile, which gets everybody. I haven't truly smiled since early December of last year. I don't know why everyone believes my strained smile, but I'm glad. I'm tired of hearing those two damn words, "What's wrong?"
Her happy eyes move over to her personal calendar hanging next to mine and Dad's, gets out her pen, clicks it, crosses out the slanted four from last week, and replaces it with a curvy five.
5 weeks it says.
Halle claps her hands together again.
She's such a dork, I swear to god.
"Honey, it's been more than a month, I'm so, so, so proud!" she pulls me into a tight loving hug. I try to wiggle out from the motherly embracing choke.
No luck.
I pat her back, with the only arm I could really still move. She always lets go earlier if you hug back. If you don't, she chokes you harder until you do.
"Yeah."
Only, it hasn't been five weeks. And it kills me inside that she thinks it has. I still secretly do it.
On my legs.
She never checks my legs. I'm not proud. My stomach always twists with nerves whenever she thinks that its been another week without me pulling a blade to my flesh and self harming.
I feel guilty.
I feel like worthless shit.
Though, I'm still a Hindu Cow.
My forced smile pulls with guilt across my face, while hers reflects with pure happiness. More guilt piles up.
I'm a fake. I'm a fraud.
Phony.
Which then again, drags me to do it in the first place. It's a never ending cycle of the self harm.
"Junior year!" she sings, and places a pill in the middle of my palm.
I have manic depression. I have to take that stupid pill everyday.
I don't want to take it. It doesn't do anything.
I bet it's a fucking placebo, and Halle and Rod are getting ripped off.
I quickly shove the bitter tasting capsule into my mouth and take the glass of water Halle had in her hands, washing it away down my throat.
"Yeah." I say again, giving the empty glass back to her.
Hopefully, this year will be okay.
Right?
Chapter 1: Whammy Prep
The hallways of Whammy Prep was like any other High School's crummy hallway.
Stale green lockers, random bits of trash around the dusty marvel floors, bundles and bundles of annoying kids, couples making out.
Though, this school was bigger than any other school in Manhattan. Four floors. Seven elevators, Five wings. That's pretty classy.
This school was founded by a dude with a huge mustache and tiny glasses named Quilish Whammy in 1847. His dream was to get kids with special talents and abilities to come together and learn and change the world or some shit like that.
I feel so bad for him, he was such a nice guy, died of a heart attack, and his dreams never came true in the end either; since this school is now just full of assholes and fucking idiots.
This school didn't look so classy. I'm sure back in the day it was pretty perfect, but two centuries later, it had gone to shit.
This school didn't even have uniforms. Not that I wanted uniforms, I'm just saying; Fancy Prep schools like this would make you think we have uniforms.
I walk down the hall of the first floor, (The only carpeted floor, actually,) making my way through hundreds of new, old, familiar and unfamiliar faces. All staring right at me.
Of course, at me. I'm me.
Why did I have to be me.
Kids from last year weren't taking their eyes off of me.
"He's alive?!"
"Whoa, look it's Keehl!"
"You're lying, he got hit by a truck!"
"No, he moved!"
"I heard he killed himself!"
"Are you serious?" "No way!"
Oh, god.
The popular guys from last year sup nodded me.
I hate the sup nod, it's so dumb and annoying.
I was so sick of it.
I spot more old faces wide their eyes at me.
"Whoa, hey Mihael! What's up? Good to see you, man!" says another kid named Jack from last year.
We call him Neylon though. He was one of my friends.
Whoa hey Neylon, Everything is up. Everything is terrible. Everything is shit. Bad to see you too, man.
Hindu cow, fake gleaming smile, fake happy voice, 3, 2, 1;
"Hey Neylon! Not much, Good to see you too, dude."
I do this with the rest of my old popular friends as they continued to move throughout the halls, surprised to even notice me here.
Great. I was hoping everyone forgot me, but no, I was still noticeable.
They were coming in rows, and rows. Just greeting me.
Shut up, I thought when the girls greeted me.
I don't care, I thought when the guys greeted me.
Though outside, I performed the same fake act to make the same old world go round.
And then.
It happened. The least thing I wanted to happen. The person I least wanted to see.
That stupid brunette Japanimation haircut and his fancy, expensive clothes that girls longed after.
Light. Fucking. Yagami.
Another long story. Another novel.
I try to turn around, but it's too late.
"Mihael!" he ran up, and tackled me, tight, too. He laughed cheerfully, as we rolled around on the floor hugging. Actually, I didn't dare to hug the bastard back, why did I just say we?
"Hey..." I mumbled dryly, taking in the old whiff of cherry, pricey cologne, and potato chips.
"I missed you so much!" he cried out.
"...Get offa me now..." I told him.
I didn't even bother to put on my fake act. I hated Light Yagami, that much. With every bone in my fucking body.
"Guess what, dude!" he broke out of the unrequited hug, and lifted me back up to my feet.
"What?" I sighed, annoyed. Don't you see that I hate you?
"I lost my virgin Mary man, I lost it while you were in Soviet Russia drinkin' vodka, with your sexy mom!" he laughed.
I twitched when he mentioned my mom. And that he called her sexy. I should have never emailed him the pictures from Russia. He didn't even ask how my trip went, he just emailed back with all these remarks,
"Whoa your mom is SEXYYY."
"Dude, can I do your mom?"
"How much does your mom pay an hour?"
"Dude, so when do I get to do your hot mom?"
"No wonder why you're so sexy, you got it from your hot mom!"
Yeah, I never replied back. I don't even think twice to open Light's emails anymore. Not because I hate him, I just can't handle that kind of feedback towards my mother. My birth mother that is.
"Is that so...?"
Of course. Of course. Of fucking course.
Of course he lost his virginity, and started rub it in my face.
Like I give a fuck what Light's sex life has been going.
"Yeah dude, I fucked Misa Amane." Light nodded in his own approval, a malicious grin crossing his face.
"Wonderful?" I tried to think of a word to describe this little event of his.
I didn't know who to feel more sorry for in this situation, actually, Misa or Light?
I already know that Light's using her for sex and making her buy shit for him with her model money, and Misa Amane gets attached easily so she probably does everything Light says. And then on Light's side; she's completely fucking insane, and unbelievably dumb at times. Not to mention she's going to be hard to get rid of, because she's one of those psycho girlfriends, completely delusional, attached and clingy. Plus, if Light breaks up with her, there is a huge chance her brother Rem will definitely murder him.
And by murder; I mean murder.
"It was in my room." Light said, proud.
How did he even get into this school? Do I even care that it was in his room? What the fuck does it matter?
This kid is an idiot. This must be a scam. There's no way this is the legendary Whammy Prep with Yagami under its roof.
Okay I lied. I know he acts like a complete idiot, but Light is actually a straight A student, ranks the highest in test scores with a high academic IQ. He's also into sports, top of the team with me. I have every goddamn sport I play at Whammy with Light, except for his beloved tennis.
"Great. Your room is the best place to have sex in, considering your poor mother is downstairs the whole day wiping your ass." I said with a sarcastic voice.
I was fuming. OF COURSE he lost his virginity and he was bloating all about it right in front of me. It's not that I'm jealous, sex is something I don't want at all, and Misa Amane creeps me out. It's just that Light's a cunt and he loves pissing people off by bragging; and the bragging isn't pissing me off, the fact that Light's being a cunt on purpose is.
I think Light's fucking special talent is pissing people off, scratch all his high academic ACT scores.
"Whatever dude, everyone's impressed that I fucked the hottest girl here, so consider this as a stoke of good luck hanging with me. We'll be more popular." he patted my back.
Yeah, NO.
All I want to do right now is jump off of the fourth floor of this god forbidden school, someone kill me.
I'm just going to ignore what he just said, and change the subject. I didn't actually want to hurt his feelings. I wasn't going to tell him I didn't want to hang with him, no matter how popular he was. I wasn't going to tell him I didn't like him at all anymore, and that he was on my current blacklist. I didn't want to tell him I had no intention of even being near him.
That would be way too cruel. I'm not that mean. I have some manners.
"And, apparently everyone knows?" I asked, as we started to stride down the hall further.
"Yeah, I mean, Misa's telling everyone, she's totally obsessed with me. You know how cheerleaders gossip." his prideful smile grew bigger.
I sighed.
"Cool, I guess... Hope you used a condom." I gave him a halfhearted thumbs up.
"No biggie dude, even if protection didn't work, she'd love to have my child."
"Uh-huh."
Sarcasm.
No female would ever want to have Light's love child. She'd rather die a horrible death than make another DNA copy of Light Yagami.
"Light! Mihael!" we flew our heads around to see who was calling us over. Another one of my old friends, Zakk, was calling us over to him and his crew, and happily waving to me.
"Mihael! What's up, dude? I thought you we're dead!"
"Oh hey, man! Nope. Perfectly alive this whole time." I grin. It's totally fake, of course.
Light skipped over to Zakk and the rest of the football team.
"C'mon, fuckstick, let's go hang with Zakk!"
Light sometimes calls me fuckstick because every girl at school stated last year that they wanted to fuck me. They made a poll book, put all the hottest guys in there, and asked almost every girl who'd they fuck.
I came first, then came Light, the rest I really honestly forgot.
He came to the conclusion that I was "a stick that everyone wanted to shove in their pussy."
Ewgh.
That's so fucking disgusting.
When Light stole the poll book from the cheerleader's locker room he ran up to me and told me that all the girls wrote I was "drop dead gorgeous" on my poll page. That's when Light began to tell me all this stuff about girl logic and apparently the fact that I was impossible to get made girls more devoted to getting me.
It's not like I give a fuck.
Girls are so weird.
I get a shiver down my neck for a second; I will never have sex with a woman. The fact that girls wanted to have sex with me, scared me.
I don't like dick, either, I just wasn't really attracted to anything. I'm asexual.
"MISH, MISH, MISH!" my favorite voice of phlegm piped up from behind me before I can even make a dreading step over to Zakk and the others.
Excited rush of adrenaline.
I turned around, actually happy, actually smiling, facing my real, best friend. Nothing was fake. Everything was pure, real.
It made me even happier when I acknowledged I wasn't putting on some act.
Pure. Happiness. A true smile crossing my face.
"Hey, Mish!" grinned Mail. His award winning grin's gleaming all around.
In Russia, I went to a special cram school in Moscow to get my grades up to help me stay at Whammy. I was surprised that the kids there didn't call me by my full name 'Mihael', (and for the first time I wasn't the only Mihael in the whole school,) they called me by a shortened nickname that originated from Mihael, it was just, "Mish" or "Mishka."
Which meant bear.
I found this quite interesting and wrote the experience in an daily email I shot out to Mail. Mail really liked the name Mish for some odd reason and just started to call me that. Plus, I have a little part of Russia that lingers on with me now. I get to be called Mish back in New York too. I don't mind it. I really like Mish or Mishka. I think it's neat.
I haven't seen him in a couple of weeks. We hung out the moment I came back, Halle, Rod, and Mail picked me up at the airport, and he slept over and I told him more about my real mom and how cool some of the kids at my cram school were. I also got better at soccer because that's the only sport my Russian buddies would play after school each day.
We couldn't hang out the rest of the remaining summer because he had to work his three jobs and I had to catch up on my Whammy work that was sent through to Rod and Halle's mailbox.
"Hey!" I giggled. It wasn't fake. For once, I felt the difference of a fake and real laugh. The real feeling going up your throat. The flutter in your gut and heart.
"Did you get your schedule yet?" Mail took his hamburger style folded paper out of his sweatshirt pocket, "I wanna see what classes we got together."
"Oh, shit, I forgot to go get it, wanna come with me? I'm not hanging out with Light or Zakk right now, anyway." I waved over to the secretary table I spotted, standing at the end of the hall.
"Sure." Mail declared, and we rushed to the small remaining line in front of the Schedule table. Once we got up to the front of the line, the sixty-year old looking secretary drawled her annoyed, tired voice at me.
"Name?"
"Keehl, Mihael" I told her.
She shuffled through fancy looking file folders in a blue crate that was labeled with a big, bold, 'K.'
"Is it spelled out, K-E-E-H-L?" she groaned back to me, pushing her hot pink rimmed glasses back up.
"Yup." I quickly said.
She took a long three seconds to process which schedule was mine, but eventually the secretary with the name tag that read "Beth" took out my official schedule with her wrinkled, bony fingers.
"Here," she sighed, "Don't lose it, or it'll be another trip to the copy room for me." she laughed dryly. I wasn't sure if it was her aged shaky voice that made her sound so sarcastic or if she actually joking.
"Thank you." I said, and turned back around to Mail.
He put both our schedules up in comparison and we silently read it.
1st Hour: German Mr. Lishe Room 280
2nd Hour: Honers English Mrs. Porter Room 321
3rd Hour: Geography Mr. Cameron Room 256
LUNCH BREAK: SECTION A Floor 1, Commons
4th Hour: Physical Education Mr. Stone GYM 1, Floor 1
5th Hour: Physics Ms. Way Room 129
6th Hour: Pre Calculus Mr. Yates Room 307
"We have German AND Geography together." Mail told.
"Damn, but I'm in lunch Section C, and you're are in A." I said, "Guess this is the first time you and I don't have lunch..."
"It's not like you sat with me anyway, you we're always with Light and Mikami and them." he laughed passively.
My stomach dropped. He was still trying to make the terrible mistakes that I did last year sound like it was cool with him, and not such a big deal, but I knew it wasn't cool. It was a big deal.
I'm still sorry from the bottom of my fucking heart for treating him like that, but he just keeps pretending it was alright.
I wanted to say something but he cuts me off before I can even make a sound, "I'll just play Pokemon then, no biggie." he said thoughtfully.
No Mail, it is a biggie.
"Man, we don't have as much classes as last time..." I said.
"Yeah that's cause Mihael Keehl is too smart and talented for me, look, Pre Calculus, Physics and Honors English, Holy shit, Jimmy Neutron!"
"Oh c'mon," I laughed.
"No. DON'T TALK TO ME. I'M TOO DUMB." Mail started to throw his "I'm so offended!" temper tantrum. Of course he was joking around, but it takes him five minutes to get out of character.
I looked down at the bottom of the page, which contained my locker information.
WING K, SECOND FLOOR,
Locker: 261 Combination: 13-23-33
Last Name division organization:
F1: abcdefghi F2: jklmnopqr F3: stuvwxyz
"Fuck yes! I have it easy this year! My whole comb ends with threes, and goes by tens!" I grinned in success.
Last year mine was 23-46-01, a combination from Satan.
"Lucky," Mail whined.
Karma's a bitch to those who had their combination as 5-5-3 last year.
I guffawed.
"No lunch together, but you and I are on the same floor, same wing for lockers as always" Mail tried to lighten up.
Thank god Mail had the last name of Jeevas, or else our lockers would've never been on the same floor and it would've been hell going throughout each mile flight of stairs to get to each other after school.
I think god gave me a break on this one because Light's a whole floor above me.
Just then the P.A. came on.
It's the principal. Roger Riue, was the guy's name, and I swear, he seriously fucking hates all of us, that fucker is always moping around and changing the school's rules to something either stupid or impossible each fucking month because he has nothing better to do.
Roger's grim voice does the same word for word speech every first day of school, "Students, this is a ten minute warning that classes will begin soon. The five minute bell will ring after, the final bell shall ring at eight, afterward, and you should all be expected to be at your classes. Thank you." the announcement always ended with the same muffled click of the P.A. Speaker's off switch.
"Let's get a move on upstairs, I don't want to be late." Mail groaned.
Even if it was the first day of school, Whammy Prep doesn't care if you're not used to your new classroom locations on the very first day of school, you''ll still get detention if you're late.
"Dude, German's on the second floor, and so are our lockers, you wanna go see how far apart our lockers are?" Mail nudged me as we walked up the staircase, pushing past a few kids.
"Seems reasonable." I commented with a nod.
"What's your number this time?" I asked.
"Two-seventy-nine." Mail goes, glancing back at my sheet and scanning it over.
"Oh, we're not that far away, this time, less freshmen!" I concluded, as I read my locker number again. 261.
Wonder why that is.
Oh wait, I know why, Light, Mikami and I ruined the school's reputation in December.
My stomach lurched.
We entered our assumed wing, thankfully nothing rowdy; there's just only a few kids scattering down it.
Shit, I don't remember this! It looks completely different.
"Is this our wing?" Mail mumbled, looking around rapidly, "It got renovated, didn't it?"
"Wait, are you serious? Did it move onto the other side? What asshole thought that was a brilliant idea?"
"Probably fuckin' Riue's! Look, it's not even fucking labeled!" Mail flabbergasted.
"Hmm..." I stopped in the middle of the unknown wing, leaving Mail to slowly wander ahead of me.
I flipped over the schedule which had the map of the school on the back. It wasn't such a good quality, and since this was a large school, all the floors printed on the map were small and crummy to read correctly. You pretty much needed a magnifying glass to decode it. In the meantime there's Mail; hopelessly turning his head in every direction to look for any signs or indications of what our old locker wing actually was now.
I tried to scan the map, confused what every labeled particle meant. I squinted my eyes.
What?
What does that say?
Fuck you, map! I need to know where my locker is. Do we really have to carefully scan all the goddamn locker numbers?!
"That's funny...I don't think..." I trailed off, trying to tell him the map didn't have the locker wings labeled on it.
"Mm?" Mail didn't turn back to me, he just went further down the hall and awkwardly turned the corner.
"...they... have... it... u-"
I'm cut off by something.
Then.
The most confusing thing in the whole wide world happened.
Something caught my eye.
Caught it and then fully directed all its attention toward it.
All of it.
Where is my pretentious Hindu Cow?
I'm afraid, It's not there, sir. says my brain.
Knock? Knock? Who's there?
My heart.
My heart who?
My heart is the one who is knocking.
I don't get the joke. I know it's knocking, but what does it want?
Tell me what do you want, heart?
It's not saying anything. It's ignoring me. It's still doing IT.
Pounding. Thumping.
I'm not physically active right now.
Thump thump thump. Knock knock knock.
What is this feeling?
Is this how fondness feels like?
It was like one of those perfect movie moments, when the guy first notices the beautiful girl, who becomes his love interest, that coincidentally is standing near him, in his view, and she catches his eye once he notices she is standing near him, looking breathtakingly beautiful.
Then he catches his breath.
Though he doesn't know what to say. And then they part.
Cut. Scene.
It's not a girl.
It's a boy.
He's so beautiful.
I'm infatuated. I think. I feel fondness. I think.
I've never really felt either one, so how am I supposed to know how it really feels like? Is this it?
He is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my life.
Everything is paused. My whole world is paused. I don't see anything but him.
Who are you? Why am I attracted to you?
My heart is beating like a drum, and my face has this rush, that I haven't felt for anyone. I'm ignited.
I have never felt this. I'm Mihael Keehl. I'm not attracted to anyone. I don't usually like anyone. Why?
I don't have crushes.
And then. I got one. For the first time in my life, I was attracted. I wanted to come up to him, and kiss him all around. And it was a he.
Him. I'm not gay. But everything about him just...
He was opening his locker. Turning the nob with long bony delicate fingers. His skin looked soft, touchable. Smooth. He looked like a china doll, to be more exact. His skin was pale, but shining. He had white hair. White. Snowy white hair. Big onyx eyes. They were also beautiful. He was gaunty and short. Cute as hell. And enough about his gleaming toned arms and face, his legs are really cute and small too.
I wanted to touch everything.
Shit. Does that sound creepy?!
But, he looks so interesting.
How come I've never seen him around before? Is he a new kid? Is he a freshmen? What's going on?
He looked so quiet, so elegant, so petite, so delicate. As if I'd touch him, he'd break into one million pieces.
He was like an interesting museum artifact. You want to touch it, because it's so amazing, but off limits to even breathe on.
I don't even know your name.
But my heart. What is it doing.
He was boy. I'm so confused. I'm...
Confused.
"Mihael? Dude, c'mon, fuck it, lets go, this place is confusing. We're gonna be super late if we try any harder." Mail came back around the corner.
It was only a few seconds in reality, but in my world it took a millennium.
"Uh? Uh-huh..." was the only thing that I can struggle back out. I was still turning all my attention to this boy. I was mesmerized.
I started to walk forward, very slowly, my eyes still at gaze all over him, checking if this boy would actually look at me.
I wanted him to look at me. Notice me. More than anything.
"Yeah, um, let's go..." I said a little intended. Pretty fucking loud as well. Mail narrowed his eyes in confusion.
Nope. No attention.
He didn't even move.
But I was always the center of attention.
Everyone always looked at me.
Why didn't he?
This isn't fair. I actually like someone for the first time, and they're not looking at me. Why isn't he looking at me? Everyone looks at me!
Now I'm all angry and disappointed and confused and dead inside.
It's funny how one person can change someone's mind and feelings in one tiny, simple, little action.
Because of him, everything was now about him.
The whole hour through German, all I did was think how perfect, how beautiful, how cute he was.
How he didn't look at me. How much it saddened me.
I wondered who he was. I hadn't ever seen him around before.
Is he a freshman?
Who was that? He's so beautiful... Who? God, he was the most beautiful thing I have seen in my entire life.
"Mihael, did you pick out your German name?" Mr. Lishe snapped me out of my zoned dimension, and back into his dull class.
"Adalfreddo." I told him. He jolts it down on the chart.
"Dude, what is with you?" Mail's voice was below a whisper as soon as Lishe turned away to the board.
"I-I-I don't know..." I lightly scribbled my pencil in deep thought on my blank note page below me.
Then it was back to the beautiful boy. Thinking everything about him.
What his name was.
What grade he was in.
How old he was.
Where he was from.
I even wondered how his parents looked like. They made something so angelic. Were they both pretty as well?
Thinking, thinking, thinking.
Everything. Everything possible about him. Me, zoning out. The whole hour.
The only thing that crossed my mind?
Him.
Not German. Not anything else. I was a flushed Hindu Cow in the back row. Thinking. Finally, for the first time in my life, falling for someone.
I couldn't believe it.
I needed him. Now.
But. Of course, I was still living my life, so I had a terrible outcome;
I didn't get to see him through the rest of September.
For the rest of the month, the boy who I suddenly fell for, disappeared. Nowhere to be be seen.
Poof. Just like that.
I didn't see him for a long time.
But I didn't forget about him.