Yep. Chapter Seven and all that. In good old Arial Narrow S.10, 0.5" margin, B0, A7 Spacing. Oh how I've missed those settings over break. Actually saw some kids who were walking home from school a few days ago, but they said it was 'just cram school'. Get out of cram school, and have family time. Now. Please tell me you guys were with family, yeah?
I know I suck for not getting this up. But I never ever claimed to be a nice person. Oh, and people who I couldn't reply to because the thingy hates my life:
DarkAngelJudas: I'm sure he probably does, creepy little bugger. (Sorry I didn't reply directly, the linky-thing was broken.)
Natlikesmatt (): I know! Isn't it just adorable? (Nice name, by the way)
Haha, you two thought I forgot about you, didn't you? I never forget about my readers!
Disclaimer: Is it a franchise? Does it make money? Then mine it indeed is not.
"His name is stupid." I raise an eyebrow at Mello's comment and turn to him. "Who?"
"That Shaw guy," Mello spits out the name like it's some sort of bug. Like a caterpie of something. "Darren. What kind of name is that?" I snort. "Says the kid draped in cowhide named Mello." He scowls. "It's German. It has an excuse. Darren does not, it's just weird." I shrug and keep walking.
It's my day off, and we're going to a Barnes and Noble. We are mourning the misery of the poor soul who has to scrape cotton that isn't me.
"I think he's nice. You're just a drama queen." Mello snorts, "Nice. Sure. Trying to show me up in French with his stupid Foothill ways is 'nice'," he air quotes around the last bit, "Nobody can try to be better than anybody with pronunciations like that. It's so fricking middle school!"
"Maybe it's because he's new?" I suggest.
Foothill and Wammy's are like two completely different cultures. Except most of each side hates most of the other side. The 'knights' have a yearly GPA of a solid 2.69. However, the awesome students taking ownership of the title of Wammy's High Chipmunks (thank the class of '97 for the manly name) have a yearly GPA of 3.62. I know, right?
Mello rolls his eyes. "Still. He's stupid. 'Der, Parley vows Franches,'" apparently poorly imitating Darren from class. I laugh, because it's always funny when Mello does that voice.
We get to the bookstore and head for the Starbucks café. Mello sits down at a two-person table and brushes out a 'the usual' while getting out his books, obviously expecting me to pay. Oh glories of friendship, thou art always plenty. I order a chocolate frappa-thingy, a slice of cake, and a caramel late-y (still can't pronounce that). Price comes to sixteen-eighty, twelve of which is thanks to Mello. I pass the cash and carry the load to our table. "No fork?" Mello question-states, not once looking up from our English reading assignment, except to grab his drink and reduce its contents by a centimeter.
"I might, if I felt appreciated for buying you cake and coffee," I respond, nonchalantly starting on my own beverage. Mello puts down his drink and his book, folds his hands, and makes contact with my green eyes with his barely-stoic blue ones. "Thank you, Matt Jeevas, for procuring me a slice of double chocolate cheesecake and a java-chip frappucchino." oh that's what it's called… I gesture for him to continue. "And?"
He smirks, "I am forever in your debt." I nod with satisfaction. Or until you finish paying back the 30 bucks you owe me for coffee. Go get your own fork." Mello flips me off on his way. I snort and steal part of his cake with my finger.
Mello comes back, fork in hand, and continues reading, starting on his cake. Stab, bite, a small noise as he pulls the fork through his teeth, an unspecified number of chews, and swallow. And I don't think he knows it, but every other bite or so Mello lets out the smallest sound of pleasure. I mean, don't get me wrong this cake is forged by the gods or something, but I've still failed to find any other food that makes me as jealous as double chocolate cheesecake.
We have finished our provisions and homework (or Mello has. Mine's completion, excluding math, comes during some class tomorrow.), and are now browsing the manga and graphic novels. Mello is ranting about shoddy teachers and the existence-es of Near and Darren while I un- and re-shelve various titles. Naruto vol. 46, xxxHolic vol. 14, Tsubasa vol. 21, and a couple titles that are new to the stocks,that I plan to start. This one title 'Death Note' looks kind of interesting.
Another interesting looking title catches my eye. Sure, it has a shoujo company logo on its spine, but I don't even. I flip through this 'Junjo Romantica' and- Oh. Oh dear mudkips, I do believe I am producing life substance from my nostrils. I clasp my hands over my face to try to slow the flood, the tang of copper entering my mouth.
"Mello," I try, the air that passes through my fingers causing a small spray of blood. "Yo, Mells, do you have a tissue? Or maybe a beach towel?" he looks up from his Gundam Wing, and immediately begins laughing at me. "Oh my God, Matt! What in the fuck did you do? How can you even run into anything in a bookstore?"
I glare at him. "Mello, we won't be allowed in this store if I get blood on their carpet, which means no more free chocolate-coffee-things, so if you would please have a tissue?" Mello raises his eyebrows. "You really think Sayu, or anybody, really, could chick me up enough to carry around a mini-kleenex pack?" he crosses his arms, mock offended, "You insult my durability."
"Well, then what am I supposed to do about the Red-Sea-meets-Niagra-falls that has been freed from my face cavity, Mello?" He snorts. "Obviously use your shirt. But just holding it to your face won't really do it… You'll have to take it off."
Oh no. Nononono. No way in hell. My best friend, the guy I've had a gay crush on since ticks got tocks, telling me to take of my shirt. If I fapped, this would be a gold-mine. But I don't, so yeah. …Awkward. Okay, we need an excuse for me to not take of my shirt, besides-
"I don't want to show off my stupid girly curves, Mello!"
…Yeah, that. Mello just looks at me. "Seriously? You did a ten minute book report comparing Zelda and Midsummer Night's Dream while in. Cosplay. Including tights. In front of people who could have and did blackmail you. But you won't take of your shirt in front of a bunch of strangers and your best friend because of your stupid curves. Seriously, dude?"
"Fine! Jesus Mello, Eager much to get me naked?" I put the book that started this whole ordeal onto a shelf and pull my shirt over my head and press it to my face. The blood immediately begins soaking through, continuing in its lessening flow. Mello rolls his eyes at my comment and picks up the book I put down, flipping through it. His eyes get a bit wide.
"Wow. Okay. I'm just going to stick with my 'you ran into something' theory. Hot damn, you're already getting feminine, don't need you reading this stuff," he smirks as he re-shelves the book, "You're girly curves'll get worse."
"Wull mbabey I like mby gurly curbs," I try to counter, my shirt inhibiting my speech. Before Mello can launch his counter-counter attack, a guy from the B&N staff, Marv, according to his name tag, comes up behind him. "Um, excuse me, but I've received complaints from some of our patrons about your lack of clothing, and I'm going to have to ask you to either put your shirt back on or leave our store."
I don'd tink da former will be very easy," I say, my speech improving as I pull my shirt from my face to show him the now near stopped flow. Marv's eyes get big like Mello's did, probably because blood is coating a third of my face. I lick some of it off my lips. "How on Earth did you managwe to do that?" Marv inquires.
Mello jumps in. "He ran into the edge of this shelf here," He pats the one with the Romantics book on it, "because he was playing one of his handhelds. He's rather clumsy, so he does this a lot." I nod, 'verifying' the lie. Marv raises an eyebrow, but doesn't say anything besides shooing us from the store.
We walk out to my car (because Mello doesn't have one, ha!) and start for my place for some games. Mello still seems to think he can beat me at Mortal Kombat. Not likely. Even if he does distract me when he sticks his tongue out in concentration. It's almost cute.
So now we're back at my place, mashing at buttons with BVB blasting out of our speakers, drowning out any and all complaints from neighbors from our iHome (We split the cost, but it's totally mine. Mello pays off his debts by helping pay for electronics and bills. I might get more electricity with his help). It's really a wonder I haven't been kicked out yet. Maybe because I'm the only one to last this long in this room.
And Mello is the only one to last this short. He's currently trying to use Scorpion against Sonya Blade. Good one, Mello.
"K.O.!" I shout with the announcer. I laugh, "Beat you again, Mello!" he rolls his eyes and goes to my kitchen for chocolate. "How's about another go?" I shout over the music, "We can go sixteen out of thirty!"
"Please, you would take all thirty and barely think about it."
Very true. Your ass would be mine." I take a drink from my Red Bull. He saunters back in, hosting the package of chocolate and two raised eyebrows. "Please, you wouldn't know what to do with all of this. He flops back onto the couch, spinning in a way to show me 'all of this' as he does.
"Touché." I go for another bit of Red Bull. But I know what you could do with mine. I nearly choke on my Red Bull when that thought makes itself known. What the hell, brain? How did that get past the firewall?
Firewall doesn't protect against stuff you download on your own, Matt.
Well, yeah, but we're only in high school and we aren't even dating! I've never even had a girlfriend before.
Or a boyfriend.
Yeah, but-Shut up! I am talking to my brain! I am not talking to you anymore! I mean myself! Gah, shut up!
"So!" I say to distract myself from the perverted tendencies living in my brain and the personal spat I had been having with them, "how about a movie? Since you obviously can't play." Mello shrugs. "What's in your inventory?" I get up, shut off the iHome (with a "finally, bloody prats" from Arthur), making my way over to my box. "We have… the original Star Wars trilogy, True Grit, Saw, 300, The Ring, and the new Alice in Wonderland. Anything suit your fancy?"
"300." I pop the selected disk into the gizmo and glance at my phone for the time, yawning. Whoa, almost one. No wonder I'm so crashed, we gamed for hours! I sit on the couch next to Mello, yawning again. Less than half an hour later, I find myself falling asleep on Mello's shoulder while Leonidus marches off to battle.
GAH. WHY WAS THIS SO DIFFICULT TO FINALLY GET ONTO HERE. WHAT THE HELL. But yeah, anyways, rest assured to you all, I will most likely not make the wait this long any time soon. Probably. Yeah. I feel like this chapter was sort of bad. Opinions?
Happy New Year to everybody! We have less than a year left! d(^-^)b And ,y break ends day after tomorrow, so yeah. School. Back to awful math teachers and the epicness that is marching band.
Reviews are, as always, very welcome!
