Updates won't always come this fast but I thought that the first chapter was a little too short. This one isn't much longer but it should keep you satisfied until I post the next chapter! I hope you enjoy!
Also, I was undecided on whether Firkle should become easily embarrassed or if he should easily keep his cool and I think I'll incorporate a little bit of both throughout the story, opinions would be great!
The bell rang signalling the end of the day, Firkle swiftly shoved his history books in his bag and headed out of the classroom. He would never admit it but he was excited to hang out with Henrietta, he hadn't stayed over at her house in weeks and it wasn't often that they got to see each other alone without the presence of at least one of the other goths.
As he entered the hallway he was caught up in the mess that was the end of the day school rush, a mass of teenage bodies flowing quickly to their lockers then out of the building. Firkle tried to push his way through the crowd and reach his locker but cursed himself for having such a small stature and getting swept away with the river of people. There wasn't actually that many people in the hallway but Firkle got dragged along nonetheless.
A hand gripped his wrist and he was yanked from the group of boys he had got himself caught in. His face smashed against soft cotton and he jumped back, ripping himself away from his perpetrator and glared up at the other person's face. Seeing Ike's grin for the second time that day caused Firkle to roll his eyes.
"What the fuck is your problem Broflovski?" He said sharply, his good mood quickly turning sour.
Ike cocked his head to the side, still grinning he replied "You looked like you needed help, needing to get your cigarettes from your locker and all…" He motioned to Frikle's locker with a wave of his hand.
How the fuck did he know I was getting my cigarettes?
"I didn't need your help. Who says I even wanted to go to my locker anyway?" He questioned hotly, swiping his fringe away from his left eye, revealing his eyebrow piercing in the process.
Ike's eyes darted to the piercing momentarily before once again locking with Firkle's, "Well you finished your last cigarette at lunch because you left the empty carton behind the school and you always keep a spare in your locker so I assumed you would want them" he said nonchalantly as if it was common knowledge and completely normal to notice those minute details about a person.
Firkle stood for a second, eyeing Ike suspiciously who in return simply kept the same grin plastered across his face, before he turned and opened his locker retrieving his spare cigarettes.
"You're really weird Broflovski" the goth muttered before turning on his heel and walking away, feeling peculiar inside, he hadn't realised that Ike was watching him and studying him so much.
Is it just me or does he examine everyone like that? It must be everyone, he has no reason to be so obsessed with me, he doesn't even know me.
Firkle shrugged it off and put his earphones in, beginning the trek to Henrietta's house.
Bradley, Henrietta's younger brother, answered the door when Firkle arrived at the house.
"Hey there Firkle! Henrietta is in her room" he said cheerfully, stepping aside to let Firkle inside.
Bradley was in the year above Firkle in school but he acted a lot like a child, his hair was blond and combed flat without much of a style, lack of style also showed in his clothing. He was wearing a long sleeved blue polo shirt with a red collar and a white undershirt along with some straight light blue jeans. Lame.
Firkle nodded to him as he walked in and proceeded to make his way upstairs.
He knocked on the door before walking in and dropping his black bag onto the floor, Henrietta stood from her computer chair and quickly scurried over to Firkle, enveloping him in a comforting hug.
"How was school?" she asked pulling away from him and looking at his face, he rolled his eyes and walked towards her bed.
"Same as always, bunch of nazi conformist cheerleaders, except worse because you dicks left me on my own again!" He accused, plopping down onto her bed and leaning down to unfasten the top two buckles on his boots before kicking them off and falling to lie on his back against the soft red comforter, allowing his eyes to drift closed.
"I'm sorry Firkle…" Henrietta apologised, he felt the mattress dip beside him soon followed by soft hands gently stroking his hair, "I felt really shitty this morning and I didn't even drink that much last night… I tried to drink less so that I could go to school with you but when I woke up I felt like utter shit… I'm sorry baby I know you hate going to school alone" she cooed and continued stroking him soothingly.
"S'fine" Firkle mumbled in return, now feeling completely relaxed "There's this weird kid at school" he stated offhandedly. Henrietta stopped stroking him for a second before continuing, she knew that for Firkle to even notice one of his classmates let alone actually mention them in conversation was a big deal, she had to be careful about this and find out as much as she could.
"Why's he weird?" She questioned softly, hoping that with how relaxed Firkle was he would continue talking.
Firkle hummed and yawned out a reply, "He always watches me" he rolled over so he was facing Henrietta's legs, still with his eyes closed. She, in return, began stroking the back of his head which had now been revealed.
"What do you mean 'always'?" She continued her questions, still in a gentle tone.
Firkle shrugged lightly, "Noticed a few month ago before my birthday, another day when I was left alone" he opened his eyes to feign a glare at Henrietta who just rolled her eyes and smiled.
He had noticed months ago and still hadn't mentioned this kid or got into a fight with him? He mustn't be actually bothering Firkle then…
"Watching you for months? That is kind of weird, hasn't he spoken to you?" She asked once more, hoping that the younger goth hadn't noticed her increasing interest in the matter.
"No, he just stares…" he said quietly a second passed before his eyes suddenly opened and he sat up "Wait he did talk to me!" He said a little too enthusiastically for his usually gothic demeanor, he set his expression back to neutral and added "fucking conformist freak nearly knocked me over walking into me" while examining his barely existent nail polish. Before Henrietta had time to interrogate him further on the subject he pushed his hands in her direction "Do my nails again"; this signalled the end of that conversation but Henrietta would be bringing it up again later.
They were currently splayed out on the floor beside Henrietta's bed with Eraserhead playing on the TV sitting atop Henrietta's black, skull embossed dresser. "This film is totally fucked up" Firkle stated as a young boy picks up a decapitated head and takes it to a factory to be made into erasers, Henrietta glanced up from painting Firkle's fingernails and laughed at the scene on the TV.
"Wait till you see the next part, it's even more fucked. Good thing it's in black and white" She smiled to herself as she continued working on the black nails before her.
Firkle watched the film for a few minutes wondering what part Henrietta could have been talking about when the man on screen removed his alien baby's blanket to reveal what was underneath, the young goth quickly looked away "Ew sick!", he may have been a goth but he preferred suspense films over gorey films and even though the film was black and white he could still imagine the colour. "This film makes no fucking sense" he complained, glancing back at the TV only to quickly look away again.
Henrietta laughed at him, she knew this film would freak him out and his reactions were just fodder for her amusement. "I knew you'd love this film!" She tittered in mock enthusiasm, Firkle glared at her and began blowing gently on the hand she had finished painting.
After a minute or two of comfortable silence Henrietta piped up, "What was weird kid saying to you today?"she asked casually, Firkle eyed her suspiciously then shrugged.
"Nothing really, he saw me at the back of school and said he'd see me in class, bet he fucking followed me, stalker fucker…" he paused for a moment, he then sighed before muttering "At the end of school he pulled me out of a crowd in the hallway so I could get to my locker then pointed out what a stalker he is by telling me he knew I finished my last cigarette at lunch or whatever, fucking weirdo" He rolled his eyes and resumed blowing his black clad nails.
Henrietta stared at him, soaking it in, "Maybe he has some conformist crush on you" she said laughing lightly, Firkle suddenly pulled his hand away from her causing her to look up in surprise. Firkle was scowling at her intensely but that didn't hide the fact that his cheeks were currently blazing pink, "Oh my god are you blushing?!" Henrietta asked in astonishment, she had known Firkle for years but he rarely showed any face other than his indifferent expression or his common glares, the only time he ever blushed was when he was drinking so his current flustered face was something of legend.
He immediately turned his face away from her and climbed to his feet, hurrying to the door he stopped with his hand on the doorknob, "No one would have a conformist fucking crush on me and I'm not fucking blushing!", he all but shouted without turning around then promptly fled the room.
Henrietta began laughing, "He's fucking adorable, I'm going to have fun with this" she smirked to herself.
Firkle locked himself in the bathroom and stared at himself in the mirror, his normally pale white skin now flourishing with shades of pink. He furrowed his brow and glared into his own eyes Why the fuck am I blushing like a bitch?! He willed the offending blood rush to vanish.
He then examined his reflection, dark brown eyes, boring, his dyed black hair falling down almost covering his left eye, too soft for a boy also boring.
He looked at his small stature and boyish face, Henrietta's stupid no one would be crushing on this, he's probably just planning some prank or whatever it is that conformists do, he laughed to himself, What if she was joking? Stupid bitch. He smiled at his own overreaction and turned to head back to the bedroom.
