Hey, Jhonen had Meanwhiles in his work…so I might as well put them in too P
So have fun reading my poor interpretations of Jhonen's fantabulous Meanwhiles as you wait for me to update the story!
Meanwhile Part 1
Time for School, Squee!
It was quarter to seven in the morning, and Squee was wide awake-in fact, he didn't even sleep at all.
He never sleeps nowadays, even with the sleeping aides.
It was time for him to get ready for school anyways.
Sighing, Squee stood up from his sitting position on the bed (he was writing poems in his little black notebook the entire night) and trudged to the bathroom to take a quick shower. It was seven when Squee dragged his feet back to his room to change into black jeans with frayed parts at the knees, held up with a black leather belt with a Batman buckle. He wriggled into his sort-of-small black t-shirt with the original black and yellow Batman logo screened in the centre. He used gel to spike out the back and used whatever he had left on his hands to flatten out the front and to sweep his bangs to the side. He put on his usual rings and bracelets, picked up his black schoolbag that was lying by the door, and raced down the stairs.
As he made his way out of the house, he stopped for a few seconds to take a peek into his father's study. As usual, the middle aged man was sitting at his desk, slaving over his computer. He was still in his usual white wife beater and striped boxers.
"Err, bye dad." Squee said quietly, and as usual silence answered back. Squee rolled his eyes. He didn't even know why he bothered to say goodbye every morning. He didn't even want to think of his mother at the moment. His mood suddenly dropping at a steep incline, Squee stormed out of the house, just in time to catch the bus.
The bus ride was always a long one, but Squee always had different methods to pass the time. Today he was writing another poem in his black bound notebook while listening to From First to Last on his mp3 player. Around fifteen to twenty minutes later, he arrived at one of the public places he hated most: his high school.
For ten minutes after getting off the bus, Squee stood a few metres in front of the school, looking up at it in anger and disappointment. He hated school. He hated the teachers and the kids there. He hated the system.
He didn't know how he was going to handle it for the next two or so years.
"Hey, faggot! Did you hear the bell? Or are you too busy listening to your FAGGOT music?"
A stocky jock that was passing was hollering at Squee. Squee learned how to ignore their brash comments.
Don't let them know it hurts, his therapist always told him.
Sighing, Squee turned up the volume on his mp3 and made his way inside the school.