Hello again! Second part of my first ever EVER fic. If you're reading this far then that must be a good thing?
Anyway, your reviews and comments are welcome. I hope you enjoy this. At least somewhat.
The door to the roof was unlocked so here I am, ditching class again. A quick ciggy before the lunch period; when my fellow students will venture up for a well-deserved break.
Being class time, I'm surely guaranteed to have the place to myself. Saves me the indignity of battling that barbed-wire fence to win a peaceful spot.
I lean out against the chain-link and survey the scholastic scenery below. It's pretty. It's another fuzzy autumn day, and I'm skipping yet another PE lesson. I'm lost in my own stupid daydreams. And I love PE. So why am I ditching? Baka. Shikkari shite!
Get it together!
Arrgh I'm so deflated, so unmotivated. Assignments overdue, grades slipping. Bakayaro.
I take a long pull and exhale mightily; a truly overly-dramatic sigh. Oh well.
I'm the star of my own melodrama. Flouncing away from the fence, I pirouette and chassé my way theatrically towards the stairwell door. Nobody can see me up here; I can be as flair as I like.
I've always wanted to be a dancer. A ballet dancer even. Or at least see a proper, live ballet production. Am I too old for lessons? What is the meaning of life? Tra la la la laa…
I falter mid-step. I'm suddenly, painfully, cognisant of an audience.
Near the stairwell stands a dark, solidly imposing figure with studs and chains.
Ugh! Kujo. Broke my lighter.
The inconvenient Kujo is obviously up here on a ciggy break too. Leaning against the wall OH-SO-nonchalantly, with his on-trend loafers and obnoxious abdominals. Tch!
I'm going to have to walk right past him if I'm to leave. The embarrassment.
The brim of his sketchy cap is pulled low over his face. Talk to the hand konoyaro! He probably didn't notice, so probably doesn't care, so why should you? Who cares! Just be swag…erm… unnoticeable, as is your wont.
Pep-talk done, I recover (smoothly of course) and flounce my way to the door, holding my chin in the air as high as I can. Even though it keeps wanting to bury itself under my shirt.
I clench my teeth, steel my gaze and go to swagger past him. But!
There's something strange stretching across, blocking my path.
A huge, muscular arm. With a pink, plastic lighter perched deftly on a tough-looking man-hand. What the…?
I'm quite slow at processing sometimes; while gawping at the seemingly disembodied hand, I actually catch myself scratching at my head in puzzlement. I think I'm supposed to take this offering?
The arm agitates impatiently, causing a cacophony of creaking. I jump.
Ye gods, just kill me now. He fully noticed the whole damn display.
Whatever 'swag' I had just totally evaporated. Resignedly, I pluck the lighter from the hand. I don't dare turn to face him, God no.
The brawny arm drops, permitting me on my way again.
Something to the effect of "thank you" fumbles itself out of my trap. I dip my head in respect and appreciation. Yeah right, mostly in embarrassment.
Gah! He didn't have to do that. Replace my lighter that is. I was just playing around that time, being a dozy dickhead as usual, and Kujo…well, he's whatever he is. Either way, it was a thoughtful gesture, and completely unexpected.
Tch. What a cool guy.
I slouch down the stairs. "Uuuuwoo, fuck my life" I whinge to the collective universe.
Somebody out there must have heard, because just ever-so-audibly, I hear a chuckle.
"Yare yare…"
On my way home from school, hooded sweatshirt covering the obvious bits of my school uniform. I fish in my pocket for a lighter for my last ciggy of the day. I really, like REALLY need to get my shit together…and quit this unproductive habit.
My newly acquired pink disposable has a smudge of red on one side
Ack! Is that blood?! Is this thing a MURDER weapon?
I gingerly hold it up for a closer look, squinting out of one eye. Dramatic as usual.
It's a cute motif. Red cherries.
