I wanted to kill this orange headed kid, but then something hit me like a shit ton of bricks. For some unexplainable reason I just couldn't shoot him, even though I mostly felt aversion when he was standing in front of me, it was mixed with an indecipherable affinity at the same time.
As we're shooting stares at each other, we hear a squealing shriek from outside the room. Mr. Ranks walks in and looks owlishly back and forth from my gun to Mail's gun that we are still holding, pointing at each other threateningly. How effeminate! Only girls squeal and shriek. I quickly glance at Mr. Ranks and catch a glimpse of the clear fear in his eyes, and then I fix my eyes back on Mail making sure he doesn't pull his trigger before I pull mine.
"What is real and what you perceive to be real are two completely different things." Mail tells Mr. Ranks. I see Mr. Ranks giving Mail the weirdest of looks, so I interfere.
"You didn't see that. You didn't see anything." I tell Mr. Ranks and raise an eyebrow to indicate he should better cooperate with me, or things were going to turn out badly. He nods mutely. Mail and I store our magical fucking pistols away in our pockets.
"Ahem!" Mr. Ranks clears his throat. "Places everyone! Quiet on the set!" Did he really just say that? Me and Mail give each other a look, trying not to burst out in laughter.
"He is an odd character." I tell Mail from across the room, not caring that Mr. Ranks was standing next to me.
"Indeed, he is interesting." Mail replies, giggling.
"I think that's fucking bullshit." Mr. Ranks says out of nowhere. Are teachers even allowed to curse at school?
"Hey now, this isn't fair." Mail crosses his arms in front of his chest.
"What's not fair?" Mr. Ranks asks Mail.
"I'm here to serve detention for cursing, yet you just cursed yourself on school grounds. I think that's highly hypocritical." Hate to say this, but I had to agree with this red-head.
"Just take a seat, Mail." The teacher sighed exhaustingly. "You too, Mello."
"Like hell I will." I scoff.
"Hip hip hooray! Mello starts a strike!" Mail laughs.
"Get lost, you shitty brat." I roll my eyes at Mail's enthusiasm.
"Mello, what is your last name? I need to speak to your parents. You are truly lawless. No morals. No rules. Nothing. " Mr. Ranks shakes his head at me, but I perceive what he just told me as a mega compliment.
I smirk at his question. "My name is please. Bitch please."
"Ooooh scandalous!" Mail says childishly, probably just for the shits and giggles.
"Really?! You're an annoying fuck!" I tell him.
"Well, that's just not nice." He replies. Was this dude even taking me seriously?! I killed his father just yesterday, and now, he is acting like nothing ever happened.
"Stick it up your ass!" I yell at him, showing him my middle finger as I'm walking out the door.
"Ooooooooh!" Mail lets out a loud, long moan. "Can you stick it up for me though? Please?" When I hear him say this, I turn around and look at him, my mouth hanging open. Did I just hear him right, or are my ears playing tricks on me? Is this girly guy gay? Hmm, let's play along though for a bit and tease his fucked up fantasies.
"I like the whimpering." I lick my lips and start walking towards him. I place my face millimeters away from his, pretending that I'm about to kiss him. "Huh, I'm not going to kiss you." I pull away, shortly, before reaching his lips. He stares at me lovingly, and I see pure lust in his eyes. Then I look at his crotch. Dude got a full blown out boner. This guy is so gay, he cannot even drive straight.
"Well, that was just a whole lot of pointless." Mail complains.
I swear, I heard Mr. Ranks mumble "Faggots" under his breath and I nearly lost it.
"What'd you say, you bloody bastard?!" I reach for my gun in my pocket out of instinct, but realized I cannot just shoot a teacher on school property. I let out a frustrated and annoyed sigh and left the room. I about had it for today. I'm going home.
Just as I'm about to open my car door I hear someone calling my name. I turn around. Mail is standing right in front of me.
"There ya have it! Take it!" Mail hands me an Iphone that looks identical to mine. I look up at him confused. "By the way, nice nudes you got on there." He winks at me and turns around to leave. I reach for my back pocket, checking to see if he really stole my phone. And it's empty. This motherfucker seriously stole my phone!
"You vile piece of filth! How dare you?!" I yell after him as he walks away. He turns around, looking at me with a sly smile spread across his face. I really wanted to punch him so badly, but he surprised me with what he asked next.
"Where are you from?"
"America!" I exclaim. I cannot have him find out where I'm really from. That is extremely personal, top secret information that just me and my family know and will ever know.
"Stop lying." He says calmly.
"Stop prying." I spit back.
"Say the word 'water'" And so I say it with my best American accent possible. He looks at me as if a light bulb just went off in his head.
"England. You're from England. And there is a mix of another slight accent. Hmm…something Eastern European?" He asks me.
"But..how..did..you..know?" I asked mind blown. This guy was good! Nobody else ever caught on to my slight accent, because it was so mild and barely even noticeable. Almost, nearly non-existent. And I always tried so very hard to suppress it when I was talking to anyone besides my parents. I cannot afford anyone to find out about my Russian roots.
"I already knew you were English. Nobody uses the word 'bloody' in America. I made you say the word 'water' because that is the only word that no matter how hard you try to suppress an accent if you have one, it gives your real accent away anyway.
"So, which Eastern European country are you originally from? I'm guessing that whichever one it is, that is your native language." Pushy, pushy. This American, English-speaking individual.
All of a sudden, we hear sirens coming, closer and closer towards our location. Mail and I look at each other. He looks at me, and those mixed emotions flickering in his eyes seem all too familiar to my own.
"Shit! Police!" We say simultaneously. I go ahead and unlock the doors and notice Mail is still just standing there.
"What are you waiting for?! Get in the car!" I order him and I don't need to tell him twice, but I still saw that weird look he gave me.
What am I doing? Why am I helping out my enemy? I should just let him die…but for an inexplicable reason, I cannot do that. What the fuck is wrong with me?!
"Is that a fucking police bus?!" Mail yells loudly, breaking my train of thoughts.
"What the devil are you talking about?' He points in front of me mutely, to explain.
"Shit, they're blocking the way out!" My voice shows more panic in it than I would've liked it to.
"Give me the wheel! Quick!" He demands. Was he joking?! I don't trust this bloke, how am I supposed to give him control over the car?
He gives me the most sincere look I've ever seen somebody give me so I give in. Besides, I'm not about to die in here, not finding a way out of this place. That would be a truly embarrassing death.
"Close your eyes." Mail is taking complete charge of this situation, and all I do is comply by closing my eyes and conform to everything he says. I just don't understand myself; needless to say Mail is impossible to figure out to me. Why isn't he being vindictive towards me? He is supposed to hate me and I am supposed to hate him, but here we are saving each other's life.
After a few minutes he breaks the silence.
"Do you think my ears are cute? I think so. I really think they are, don't you?"
I open my eyes, only to find him staring vainly at his own reflection in the sun visor mirror. Are you serious? He's talking about his fucking ears when we were almost just caught by the police?
"How did you elude the police so easily as if it was just child's play for you?" I asked him, still trying to figure out what actually happened.
He shakes his head and laughs as if it was the most obvious thing ever. "You can't be a dumb criminal because you'll get caught. You gotta be smart."
"Where are we?" I look around, but I do not recognize this area at all.
"This is where I live."
"Oh…" I didn't know what else to say, and all of a sudden there was this really awkward silence filling the air. Wait! Shouldn't I kick him out of my car and tell him to piss off before I kill him?!
We stared at each other for an uncomfortably long moment.
"Heyy, you wanna come in?" He offered.
"What makes you think I would ever hang out with my enemy at his house?" I sneered at his offer. This guy obviously does not understand the nature of our relationship. "Look, we're not friends. We will never be." I made it clear to him.
"Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer." He said. And once again, I hate to admit he's right, but he was. And I hate admitting this even more, but I kind of liked him. His easy-going personality and his bubbly nature felt good to be around. Not even worth mentioning, but he was smart as a whip too.
"So are you coming?" He asks me as he opens the car door.
"Da." I say and he gives me a funny look. "What?" I demand when he won't stop staring at me.
"You said 'da'" He points out. Oh shit! I still think in Russian, considering it's my native language. 'Da' means 'yes' in Russian. I have to be more careful around him, I cannot slip up again.
"No, I did not!" I lie.
"Stop lying." He says calmly again, and this turn of conversation sounds familiar.
"You need a hearing aid, you're obviously deaf." He completely ignores my hostile comment and types in a code on the security system of his house. The door opens.
"Niiiice." I say.
"Thanks." He grins. As we enter through the front door Mail looks around as if trying to find something.
"Privyet Mama!" He yells loudly. Ho-ly Shit! Privyet means 'hello' in Russian. I think my ears just deceived me. How can Mail be speaking my language?
"Privyet Mail! Kak dela?" (Hello Mail! How are you?) A woman's voice responds from another room.
"Harasho, spasiba. A tih?" (I'm good, what about you?) Mail responds in perfect Russian. No trace of even the slightest American accent whatsoever. I have just been officially mind-fucked. What the shit?
"Harasho." (Good) The woman comes in the room me and Mail are in. She looks at me for a second and then stretches out her hand for a friendly handshake.
"Kak tebya zovut?" (What's your name?) She asks me in Russian. I am stuck now. Should I answer her back in Russian, or should I just pretend I don't speak the language? Thank god Mail interferes just in time.
"On ne govorit parooski. Yevo zovut Mello. " (He doesn't speak Russian. His name is Mello.) And then I realized something. Today, in class I was cursing in Russian under my breath. I wonder if Mail made out the words I said. Was he just pretending that he didn't know that I speak Russian, or did he actually really not catch on to what I said in class?
"Sorry, she doesn't really speak English." Mail apologized.
"It's okay. Tell her it was nice to meet her." Mail nodded and turned to his mother.
"Skazal on 'oh chen pree yat nah'" (He said 'nice to meet you') It was so funny seeing Mail play the role of a translator when I knew the language myself.
"Spasiba. Oo menya idtsi. Paka!"
Mail turns to me and says "She said thank you and she has to go now." I nod my head. I already knew what she said. It's actually quite difficult to play stupid. He leads me upstairs with him and stops in front of a door. He types in another code and the door magically opens. Is everything secured with freaking codes in this house?!
"My room is messy; as is my life." He says as we enter through the door.
"Soo, what language was that, that you just spoke to your mother?" I ask playing dumb.
"I won't teeeell." He giggles as he says this.
"Psh, and you expect me to tell you what Eastern European language I speak."
"I don't expect you to tell me. I already know you speak Russian." He says this indifferently. I was speechless.
"Am I right?" He asks after a long pause of silence coming from me.
"Then why did you still translate what your mother said to me?" I asked, not understanding his thinking.
"It makes things easier that way. She does not have to know you speak Russian. Now stop asking questions."
Then I randomly notice how skinny he is.
"Why are you so freaking skinny?!" I voice my thoughts.
Mail shrugs and answers "Lousy Cuisine."
"Mail, I don't understand you. Yesterday, I almost killed you by slitting your throat. I killed your father. And now I'm hanging out with you at your house. Why did you invite me here?" I asked baffled.
"You really want to know why?" He plumps down on his chair.
"Else I wouldn't have asked, you idiot!" I snap.
He sighs loudly and takes in a deep breath "Because-"
Author's Note: Hey guys. I decided not to use the Cyrillic alphabet in the part where they speak Russian because I wanted my non-Russian readers to kind of get the gist of the language, and not just stare at some letters they are not familiar with. I don't even think I have any Russian readers out there, but if I do, make sure to announce yourself.