Chapter Eight.

1st July, 2005.

PINCH PUNCH FIRST DAY OF THE MONTH! (No returns, Stew).

Unlike every other time I try to do this, it fails. Which basically means, unfortunately I have missed every chance to say this to you, which is pretty lame but who cares? Not me!

So, yes; happy first month day.

And yes, happy last exam day.

That's right, Mr Diary, I the amazing Ginger, Jersey, Jew has completed their exams. Who would've known it would take up all my free time, the majority of my life and slightly some of our time, Stew. But aha! Those tedious hours of remembering Pythagoras, and physics has paid off, I am free as a bird, high as a kite.

I completed my last exam this morning, I was free to be of absence for the rest of the day, but I, along with a few other classmates, waited for the rest of the examinee's to finish writing their final sentences and join us as Whistlin' Willy's pizza parlour, where we have decided to eat the place dry. The owner, Mr Whistlin' Willy himself has taken a shine to me and my friends. We only have to mention we might be attending and he'll clean the seats, use his best sauce and give us a 10% discount. It's probably because we're the only teenagers that still attend since we were small children.

I don't care though; his pizza's the fucking bomb.

Part Seven.

So, here I am; causally sitting with Kenny McCormick, talking about the best natural boob size to be and if I should start wearing lipstick.

The answer to that, Stew – is yes. Ken has a supplier and a colour in mind. Peachy.

When Craig, Stan and a few others including Bebe appear in the library door, looking slumped and slightly brain dead, we pack up our stuff, wish the librarian a hushed goodbye and make our way towards Willy's.

Once we arrive, Willy slips us a few watered down alcoholic drinks as he serves his pizza to us – one the house. Dare I mention.

"Well, y'all just did yer exams? S'fine – not like I'm makin' bucks anywa' might I add" he adds, lookin' around the near empty parlour. It is around 2:00, meaning most children are in school and most adults are working.

"Hey, Mr Willy. Can you play our mix tape?" Clyde mentions gladly from down the table, instantly, Willy lightens up. Smiling broadly at us all as he retreats away from the table and towards the kitchen.

"Thought yer kids would neve' ask!" he says, playing the mix tape, Brittany Spear's Toxic hits the speakers, and although a few years old now, and a little tacky, we sing and laugh. The empty restaurant doesn't feel so lonely anymore.

Situated between Craig and Stan, I ask if they have anything else, Stan calls Willy over, and he guides me to his back room, letting me dig through CD after CD until I find gold in the rubble. Illinois by Sufjan Stevens. Calling out to everyone at the table, they cheer, demanding I play it. The first song that sounds is 'Concerning the UFO sighting near highland, Illinois. The song isn't as fast and hyperactive as Clyde's mix tap but it has a nice ring. The minute Sufjans Stevens' voice sounds everyone around the large table sings with all of their heart. Melodies pouring into the parlour's air and Stew, I wish you had ears, so you could hear it. It was beautiful.

I sat back down between Craig and Stan. Craig had leaned ever so slightly towards me, leaning his leg on me and planting his hand gently on my leg, running circles with his thumb and singing into my ear. Singing to me and only me, I look at him, swaying to the music and singing alone. He presses his lips ever so slightly against my cheek, I know what he whispers against it, and then he begins to sing the lyrics from the 'Predatory Wasp of the Palisades is Out to Get Us!'

'I can't explain the state that I'm in,
The state of my heart, he was my best friend'
Into the car, from the back seat
Oh admiration in falling asleep
All of my powers, day after day
I can tell you, we swaggered and swayed
Deep in the tower, the prairies below
I can tell you, the telling gets old
Terrible sting and terrible storm
I can tell you the day we were born
My friend is gone, he ran away
I can tell you, I love him each day
Though we have sparred, wrestled and raged
I can tell you I love him each day
Terrible sting, terrible storm
I can tell you...'

Then, just like that, his scent is gone and I am left with a cold patch on my leg as he removes his hand and returns eating. I give him a sideward's glance, "you're still not allowed to say it." I murmur, he doesn't acknowledge hearing me other than a soft smile.

I'm okay with that, I like the pizza, the songs, my friends gathered around a table singing and laughing and remising about the past, I like listening to Stan tell Wendy how beautiful she is, I like watching Bebe and Clyde laugh so hard at a pepperoni slice in Clyde's drink. I like looking at Craig, I like the touches, the scent, the way he looks, talks. I like him.

And I'm okay with that.

This is just a short filler chapter because I got so many reviews that I want to express my gratitude. Someone asked that if this pairing would be Cryle or Cryla, that's for you to decide my friends. I literally chose the best album from 2005 and its actually pretty mellow and cool if any of you want to listen to it.

Four more reviews and I will have more already than I did on my first story. It would mean a lot to me if I could get more than I did on my first version – it would mean that I have improved and honestly that means a lot to me.

Changing name once again (to blinks) because I'm an inconsiderate fuck who doesn't give a shit on a shingle.

u wot m8?1?