absolute silent pandemonium

100 years –five for fighting


"Love," Professor Adams posed. He let his statement hang in the air for all of the students to ponder.

"Miss Block, what's your view on love?" He asked, carefully watching her confident expression.

"It doesn't exist, Sir." She replied sternly while tapping her pen.

"Are you sure about that?" He countered, still watching her face for any emotions other than surety.

"Yes, Sir,"

"—Coral, what do you think?"

The brunette sighed, feeling the strong urge to roll her eyes. She was late to class thanks to Mr. Pighead and she had to write an essay giving the reasons why a college student as 'responsible' as herself should not be tardy.

Damn him to hell.


A brunette giggled and he had the strong urge to cover his ears. This girl would not stop laughing loudly with her obnoxiously annoying nasally voice.

The amber eyed girl had a nice laugh, though it was not a ringing bell sound, but it wasn't bad either; just nice…pleasant.

What is this girl's name?

She's such a stranger; he doesn't even know her first name. He's such a creeper. All he knows is that she had brown hair with long curls and freaky amber eyes that are somewhat cool yet somewhat intimidating. Oh, and she's a spontaneously good kisser, (Though he would never admit that to her if he met her again.)


She felt ridiculously childish for thinking about some boy. She's twenty, young, beautiful, confident, and successful—why in the world would she be wasting her time pondering about some stranger with blond hair, brown eyes and whom she shared one stinkin' kiss with.

"Hello, Massie." Her friend Claire called.

"Oh! Sorry."

"Where have you been these past few days? I feel like you're never actually listening to me." The blonde whined, a curious smile elating. "Are you thinking about somebody? Because I read in Seventeen that Valentine's Day is when you usually think about your exes or encounters with someone that was special and—"

"Claire…It's nothing. Chill," The brunette interrupted with a smile.

"I think you're thinking about someone," The blonde confidently admitted. "I'll figure out who exactly though."

Massie grinned, "Good luck with that one…" I don't even know why I'm thinking about him.

"Mass," she begun, "You know you can trust me, right?"

Massie rolled her eyes, "Of course Claire."

"Then why won't you tell me who you're thinking about!" She begged.

Massie took a sip of her coffee, relishing the taste. "Because it's no one,"

"I don't believe you." The blue-eyed girl slammed her hand on the table, "Is he attractive?"

"Claire it's no one!"

"I bet he has beautiful blue eyes,"

"Claire…"

"Oh!" The blonde excitedly bounced in her seat, "I bet he has brown hair."

"—Blond," Massie replied without thought.

"Got you," Claire jumped up from her seat, ignoring the looks she got. "There is someone."

Massie groaned, "It won't ever happen, Claire. I don't even know him. He's a complete and utter stranger. Plus, he's a cocky pig headed weirdo."

Claire's smile grew, "You like him."

"What, Claire?" She asked incredulously.

"You like him." The blonde repeated.

"I don't know him," Massie insisted.

"So? You can like any stranger you meet on the road. It doesn't make a difference."

"Changing the subject now…" Massie sipped again, glancing around the café. "Oh look, is that Cam Fisher?"

Claire's big blue eyes darted around the room with alarm, "Where?"

"There." Massie pointed, breathing a sigh of relief when her blonde friend began ranting about how she didn't know what to get her boyfriend of three months.

"It has to be a perfect gift, Mass."

"Nothing's perfect, Claire," Massie replied knowledgably.

Claire shook her head, swallowing her chi drink, "That's not true," she said, "Things are perfect in their own way."

Massie scoffed, looking around the café once again.


"Dude I can't get her off my mind," he exclaimed, rubbing his temples soothingly.

Alicia Rivera smiled, "You like her a lot, huh?"

The blond shook his head rapidly towards his sister, "No…I don't. She's just—different, in like, a way I don't know how to explain. She's just…"

His sister chuckled, "You're naïve."

"Don't I know it," he agreed hastily, tossing a soccer ball up towards the ceiling of his room.

"Did you try looking for her?"

"No," he sighed impatiently, "I doubt that would ever work, Leesh."

The raven-haired beauty shrugged indifferently, "Maybe or maybe not."

He thought for a moment. She had a really funny sense of humor, and she had pretty eyes, and she had a nice smile, which she didn't seem to do a lot at first. He liked her dry humor and the way she didn't fall under his gaze right away, and that she made things a game. He liked their banter.

He barely knew her.

"I don't even know her name," he said.

"So? You remember what she looks like right?" Alicia questioned, flicking a piece of lint of her cardigan.

He thought again. She had those random amber irises, she was thin but not in an anorexic way, she had a yellow dress on; a short yellow dress and sandals.

She was perfectly intoxicating.

"Yeah, I remember." He admitted.

"Then start trying to look for her; I bet she's thinking of you too right now."

The thought of that brought weird tingles to his stomach; was that fluttering he felt in the pit of his stomach? Was he hungry?

"Hey Leesh, why do I feel this stupid fluttering sensation in my stomach?"

"You like her," She cooed then widened her doe-like eyes for a moment. "Wait, you like girls? I thought you just used them? Or played them?"

He chucked a pillow at her head as she swiftly dodged it.

"Hey don't get nasty with me, brother. I'm just pointing out facts. And this fact is: you like a stranger, you can't stop thinking about her, you have butterflies in your tummy," she crowed. "And you actually like someone genuinely enough to respect them. Wow."

"Hop off," he grumbled into his pillow.

She laughed again and strode out.


*R&R*

-another moment gone-