Fic: "Words Are Just Hollow Birds" - Honeydew Syndrome
Well, I have another offering of fanfic, which for some inexplicable reason is for Honeydew Syndrome. I can never tell if my own fics are good or bad, but Melissa likes it, anyway. :X
Title: Words Are Just Hollow Birds (Wow, I'm crap at titles, and this one's from a Panic song. I don't even like Panic except for those recent B-sides. Ahem.)
Pairing: Josh/Metis
Rating: PG (PG-13 for swearing?)
Word Count: 1,371
Summary: Metis didn't believe it would actually happen. Josh/Metis.
Picture the scene: a typical American public high school. A hallway lined with green lockers that clashed horribly with the old orange paint on the walls, the visual assault which was the unfortunate result of being late to the meeting for picking school colors or whatever and being handed the leftovers. Lockers, walls, and crowds of teenagers lit by the same soul-draining fluorescent bulbs common for decades to every high school that’d ever served as a temporary prison for harassed kids.
Everything seemed pretty normal at first glance. One might have to be looking from the inside to spot the impending ripple in the flow of teenage life.
Metis didn’t believe it would actually happen. Sure, the jock had said he liked Metis yesterday, in the library where no one could hear. And laugh. But they hadn’t talked since then. Anything could have happened overnight. Now that Josh had slept on it, he’d probably realized it was a stupid idea. It was hard enough for a geek and a jock to be friends - hell, to look at each other without the customary distance and hostility. There was no way they could be…that kind of friend.
He just wouldn’t get emotional. And there was no freaking way he’d tell Charles about the whole thing. When Josh saw him in the hall and didn’t stop, didn’t say anything, probably didn’t even look at him, Metis wouldn’t even bat an eye. He’d never expected common decency from jocks, and he wasn’t gonna start now. No way.
“Dude, whatever the scarf did to you, it’s not worth violence. Just let it go.”
Metis slogged his way out of his inner monologue to see Charles looking at him with concern, or at least as close to concern as Charles ever got.
“Wha-?” Metis blinked, then looked down at his hands, which were in the process of twisting his innocent scarf to death. The yarn was getting all stretched out.
“You okay, man? You seem a little tense. Some jock got you all hot and bothered?” Charles batted his eyes annoyingly and put on a fake sympathetic face.
“What?! What’re you even talking about, you freak? I’m fine.” Metis threw the poor scarf into his locker…where it landed on top of the open yoghurt cup he’d been eating out of a few minutes before. “Shit.” He grabbed the scarf back up again and batted at the gloppy pink stuff now clinging to it.
“Whoa whoa, bitchy today, are we?” Charles’ tone threatened a mocking laugh, but before it could be released, the fluorescent light on his face was partially blocked out. Someone large was hovering over Metis’ shoulder. Charles looked up, and switched facial expressions from mocking to nonchalant as fast as only an evil, scheming bastard like him could.
“Well, I’ve gotta go, you know, talk to Jay and stuff. You kids have fun.” And he turned and sauntered off. Because he was clearly the spawn of Satan, sent to Earth for the sole purpose of torturing people whose names start with “M” and end with “-etis.”
Said person stood fuming after his supposed friend’s retreating back. He didn’t want to turn around. Turning around would mean admitting hope, expectation. Things that would inevitably prove fatal.
“Hey, Metis.”
Damnit. Now he had to turn around or he’d be a freak.
In the space of approximately 2.3 seconds, his mind ran through all possible means of escape. There was the obvious one: running, which would be beyond stupid, not to mention ineffective since, hello, jock who could probably run faster on crutches than Metis could any day. He could probably fake a faint pretty convincingly, but that would just be humiliating. Then there was the old “pretend you didn’t hear him” trick. That no one ever believed. Oh man.
He could practically hear the moment his survival instincts betrayed him and just gave up. It sounded a lot like the timer on a bomb always did in the movies when it hit zero.
Slowly, he pivoted around in a half circle until he was looking up into Josh’s face, his scarf still held in front of him like a protective barrier. “Hey.”
Metis didn’t know what his face looked like right then, as he wasn’t exactly paying attention to facial expressions (or any bodily function besides breathing, really), so he may have, possibly, in some minuscule way freaked out a little when Josh’s face went funny. He was frowning. Oh God, he was frowning, he was going to bash Metis’ head in even though he promised he wouldn’t and then there would be threatening and possibly blackmail and then Metis would never be able to come to school again and he would just fail, just fail high school because some sex-starved yuppie asshole couldn’t keep it in his pants and Metis had just let it happen and -
“Are you okay? You look like someone killed your cat. Possibly with that scarf.” Josh peered more closely at the knitted item in question. “Or maybe they murdered your yoghurt.”
“I- what? I don’t…” Great, now coherent sentences had abandoned him. Just like Charles had…
“Yeah, see, like that.” Josh was looking critically at him now. Right into his eyes. Oh God. “Are you feeling sick? Do you want to go to the nurse’s office?”
“What? No. No, I’m not feeling sick. I was just… What do you want?” God, what was wrong with him and why had he suddenly turned into the village idiot?
“What do you mean, what do I want? I just wanted to say hi.” Was that…? Did Josh look worried? Yeah, probably worried that Metis would spill the beans right here in the hallway and then Josh would have to kick his ass.
Maybe it was best to play along for now. Plausible deniability, and all that. “Oh. Uh, hi.”
The creases between Josh’s eyebrows deepened for a second, and then he seemed to shake his head a little and they went away. “So, uh, I know you’re probably busy and everything, with homework and stuff, I mean, but I was just wondering if you wanted to hang out at my place today. After school. Maybe.”
Metis stared. What? What was that? No threats, no mocking, not even something about staying away from him from now on?
“Hello, Metis? Are you in there? Listen, if you don’t want to, you don’t have to. I mean, it’s fine, it won’t hurt my feelings or whatever, so-“
“Hang out? At your house?” Metis’ brain was slowly catching up with his mouth. It may have also been yelling something at him, but he couldn’t pay attention.
“Yeah, you know, we could play video games. I could snipe the hell out of you, you could admit your defeat, and then I could let you win once because I’m cool like that.” Josh was starting to grin a little. It was maybe a little cute.
Wait, what? It was not cute, what the hell. Cute was for kittens and puppies and Charles’ baby sister bashing Charles on the head with a plastic hammer hard enough to leave a bruise; it was not for big dumb jocks who had once punched Metis in the face.
Except, there was a little dimple forming on one cheek as Josh ducked his head and then looked back up at Metis.
Shit. Shit shit shit.
“Dude, you wish that’s how it would go. I’m gonna snipe your ass so many times you’ll never figure out where I was. I’ll be like a ninja.”
Now the smile broke out in full, and Metis felt his face doing what might have been something like a grin.
“You’re on. I’ll see you in the parking lot after school?”
“Sure.”
“Cool. Uh, I’ve gotta get to science. Later.” Still smiling, Josh clapped Metis lightly on the shoulder; a fairly manly gesture. Then his fingers grazed Metis’ neck and collarbone on the way by, accidentally-on-purpose. Metis shivered a little.
He turned around to watch Josh walk away and found the other boy looking back at him, big stupid grin all over his face. Metis grinned almost as stupidly back.
That was definitely not the sound of cheering in his head.
Title: Words Are Just Hollow Birds (Wow, I'm crap at titles, and this one's from a Panic song. I don't even like Panic except for those recent B-sides. Ahem.)
Pairing: Josh/Metis
Rating: PG (PG-13 for swearing?)
Word Count: 1,371
Summary: Metis didn't believe it would actually happen. Josh/Metis.
Picture the scene: a typical American public high school. A hallway lined with green lockers that clashed horribly with the old orange paint on the walls, the visual assault which was the unfortunate result of being late to the meeting for picking school colors or whatever and being handed the leftovers. Lockers, walls, and crowds of teenagers lit by the same soul-draining fluorescent bulbs common for decades to every high school that’d ever served as a temporary prison for harassed kids.
Everything seemed pretty normal at first glance. One might have to be looking from the inside to spot the impending ripple in the flow of teenage life.
Metis didn’t believe it would actually happen. Sure, the jock had said he liked Metis yesterday, in the library where no one could hear. And laugh. But they hadn’t talked since then. Anything could have happened overnight. Now that Josh had slept on it, he’d probably realized it was a stupid idea. It was hard enough for a geek and a jock to be friends - hell, to look at each other without the customary distance and hostility. There was no way they could be…that kind of friend.
He just wouldn’t get emotional. And there was no freaking way he’d tell Charles about the whole thing. When Josh saw him in the hall and didn’t stop, didn’t say anything, probably didn’t even look at him, Metis wouldn’t even bat an eye. He’d never expected common decency from jocks, and he wasn’t gonna start now. No way.
“Dude, whatever the scarf did to you, it’s not worth violence. Just let it go.”
Metis slogged his way out of his inner monologue to see Charles looking at him with concern, or at least as close to concern as Charles ever got.
“Wha-?” Metis blinked, then looked down at his hands, which were in the process of twisting his innocent scarf to death. The yarn was getting all stretched out.
“You okay, man? You seem a little tense. Some jock got you all hot and bothered?” Charles batted his eyes annoyingly and put on a fake sympathetic face.
“What?! What’re you even talking about, you freak? I’m fine.” Metis threw the poor scarf into his locker…where it landed on top of the open yoghurt cup he’d been eating out of a few minutes before. “Shit.” He grabbed the scarf back up again and batted at the gloppy pink stuff now clinging to it.
“Whoa whoa, bitchy today, are we?” Charles’ tone threatened a mocking laugh, but before it could be released, the fluorescent light on his face was partially blocked out. Someone large was hovering over Metis’ shoulder. Charles looked up, and switched facial expressions from mocking to nonchalant as fast as only an evil, scheming bastard like him could.
“Well, I’ve gotta go, you know, talk to Jay and stuff. You kids have fun.” And he turned and sauntered off. Because he was clearly the spawn of Satan, sent to Earth for the sole purpose of torturing people whose names start with “M” and end with “-etis.”
Said person stood fuming after his supposed friend’s retreating back. He didn’t want to turn around. Turning around would mean admitting hope, expectation. Things that would inevitably prove fatal.
“Hey, Metis.”
Damnit. Now he had to turn around or he’d be a freak.
In the space of approximately 2.3 seconds, his mind ran through all possible means of escape. There was the obvious one: running, which would be beyond stupid, not to mention ineffective since, hello, jock who could probably run faster on crutches than Metis could any day. He could probably fake a faint pretty convincingly, but that would just be humiliating. Then there was the old “pretend you didn’t hear him” trick. That no one ever believed. Oh man.
He could practically hear the moment his survival instincts betrayed him and just gave up. It sounded a lot like the timer on a bomb always did in the movies when it hit zero.
Slowly, he pivoted around in a half circle until he was looking up into Josh’s face, his scarf still held in front of him like a protective barrier. “Hey.”
Metis didn’t know what his face looked like right then, as he wasn’t exactly paying attention to facial expressions (or any bodily function besides breathing, really), so he may have, possibly, in some minuscule way freaked out a little when Josh’s face went funny. He was frowning. Oh God, he was frowning, he was going to bash Metis’ head in even though he promised he wouldn’t and then there would be threatening and possibly blackmail and then Metis would never be able to come to school again and he would just fail, just fail high school because some sex-starved yuppie asshole couldn’t keep it in his pants and Metis had just let it happen and -
“Are you okay? You look like someone killed your cat. Possibly with that scarf.” Josh peered more closely at the knitted item in question. “Or maybe they murdered your yoghurt.”
“I- what? I don’t…” Great, now coherent sentences had abandoned him. Just like Charles had…
“Yeah, see, like that.” Josh was looking critically at him now. Right into his eyes. Oh God. “Are you feeling sick? Do you want to go to the nurse’s office?”
“What? No. No, I’m not feeling sick. I was just… What do you want?” God, what was wrong with him and why had he suddenly turned into the village idiot?
“What do you mean, what do I want? I just wanted to say hi.” Was that…? Did Josh look worried? Yeah, probably worried that Metis would spill the beans right here in the hallway and then Josh would have to kick his ass.
Maybe it was best to play along for now. Plausible deniability, and all that. “Oh. Uh, hi.”
The creases between Josh’s eyebrows deepened for a second, and then he seemed to shake his head a little and they went away. “So, uh, I know you’re probably busy and everything, with homework and stuff, I mean, but I was just wondering if you wanted to hang out at my place today. After school. Maybe.”
Metis stared. What? What was that? No threats, no mocking, not even something about staying away from him from now on?
“Hello, Metis? Are you in there? Listen, if you don’t want to, you don’t have to. I mean, it’s fine, it won’t hurt my feelings or whatever, so-“
“Hang out? At your house?” Metis’ brain was slowly catching up with his mouth. It may have also been yelling something at him, but he couldn’t pay attention.
“Yeah, you know, we could play video games. I could snipe the hell out of you, you could admit your defeat, and then I could let you win once because I’m cool like that.” Josh was starting to grin a little. It was maybe a little cute.
Wait, what? It was not cute, what the hell. Cute was for kittens and puppies and Charles’ baby sister bashing Charles on the head with a plastic hammer hard enough to leave a bruise; it was not for big dumb jocks who had once punched Metis in the face.
Except, there was a little dimple forming on one cheek as Josh ducked his head and then looked back up at Metis.
Shit. Shit shit shit.
“Dude, you wish that’s how it would go. I’m gonna snipe your ass so many times you’ll never figure out where I was. I’ll be like a ninja.”
Now the smile broke out in full, and Metis felt his face doing what might have been something like a grin.
“You’re on. I’ll see you in the parking lot after school?”
“Sure.”
“Cool. Uh, I’ve gotta get to science. Later.” Still smiling, Josh clapped Metis lightly on the shoulder; a fairly manly gesture. Then his fingers grazed Metis’ neck and collarbone on the way by, accidentally-on-purpose. Metis shivered a little.
He turned around to watch Josh walk away and found the other boy looking back at him, big stupid grin all over his face. Metis grinned almost as stupidly back.
That was definitely not the sound of cheering in his head.