To help me get through the night
It's been a while since I wrote any sort of narrative. All I've been writing are essays.
Now, with this huge surge of emotions, I feel like it's the prefect time to get back into writing.
Note: The following is not fanfiction. This is just a venting post in the form of a short scene.
My fingers curled into an even tighter fist, nails digging into my palm. My arms were shaking, but I blamed it on the poor heating in the school. My throat was dry, but I blamed that on forgetting my water bottle at home. My heart was beating, but I could only blame that on him. I glanced back at my seat, wondering if I should just rush back and pretend I was OK with everything. It only took a moment's consideration for me to conclude that that would be a horrid idea.
I gulped down my pride along with actual water from my friend's bottle and stood up. I had to give myself credit--at least my legs weren't shaking.
"Hey," I greeted quietly, my eyes trying their hardest to avoid the ground. I focused on his eyes instead.
Confusion. Relief. Sadness.
He didn't expect me to talk to him so soon. I didn't either.
"...Hey," he answered, setting his backpack down onto the ground. There was an awkward silence as he looked up at me with expectant eyes. I turned away.
"Are you free later today? I want--we need to talk." My voice was still quiet. My eyes lost interest in the wall slowly going back up to lock onto his eyes again. I caught him nodding, and that was enough for me. Feeling a bit cold, I rubbed my arms as I opened my mouth, "Auditorium after school sound good?"
Another nod.
I didn't bother with any more words. I went back to my seat and attempted to start the problems on the board. Mentally, I kept track of how many minutes were left until school ended. I never wished so hard for a long day.
~~~
For the first time in two months, I wasn't one of the first students to leave class. In fact, I was one of the last ones. It was the end of the day, yet I couldn't help but wish school lasted longer. As I was packing up my things, I could only think about what he would say. What he'd do. Would we argue? Would we both take it silently? The thoughts persisted even as I went to my locker to grab my coat and homework.
When I finally arrived at the auditorium, I saw him there. He uncomfortable up until he saw me. Then, he slipped his poker face back on. It was my turn to feel uncomfortable.
I put my stuff down next to his and gestured towards the doors. He followed me outside; he didn't bother with words. I took in a deep breath and exhaled.
"You're an idiot."
He looked at me again. I met his gaze, eye to eye.
"I read what you wrote last night. 'Now you're starting to make me think: were you really being my friend, or were you talking to me for something else?'" I stopped when I felt my eyes sting with tears. Another shaky breath, "So you think I'm just using our friendship, is that it? That all these years, I was just trying to get close to you so I can date you?"
I didn't let him protest. My anger was building up, along with the bitterness and hurt the accumulated over the past two weeks.
"Don't you dare talk to me about friendship. How many times have you taken me for granted? Do I need to remind you about the time you used me to get another girl's number? Or all those times I let you cry on my shoulder, and you never even bothered to say 'thank you'? Oh, how about all the times you've called me a whore? And that's not even the start of it! How about all these years you've led me on? Does THAT sound like you're innocent in all of this?"
"Led you on?" he interrupted, voice raising.
"Four years! That's how long I've wasted on you! Four fucking years, and all I ever hear is 'there's a really high chance that it'll happen.' Yeah, sure, whatever. I don't see you even trying with me, but I see you hitting on other girls. 'High chance' my ass. It just seems like you're stringing me along because you don't know what else to do."
......
Now, with this huge surge of emotions, I feel like it's the prefect time to get back into writing.
Note: The following is not fanfiction. This is just a venting post in the form of a short scene.
My fingers curled into an even tighter fist, nails digging into my palm. My arms were shaking, but I blamed it on the poor heating in the school. My throat was dry, but I blamed that on forgetting my water bottle at home. My heart was beating, but I could only blame that on him. I glanced back at my seat, wondering if I should just rush back and pretend I was OK with everything. It only took a moment's consideration for me to conclude that that would be a horrid idea.
I gulped down my pride along with actual water from my friend's bottle and stood up. I had to give myself credit--at least my legs weren't shaking.
"Hey," I greeted quietly, my eyes trying their hardest to avoid the ground. I focused on his eyes instead.
Confusion. Relief. Sadness.
He didn't expect me to talk to him so soon. I didn't either.
"...Hey," he answered, setting his backpack down onto the ground. There was an awkward silence as he looked up at me with expectant eyes. I turned away.
"Are you free later today? I want--we need to talk." My voice was still quiet. My eyes lost interest in the wall slowly going back up to lock onto his eyes again. I caught him nodding, and that was enough for me. Feeling a bit cold, I rubbed my arms as I opened my mouth, "Auditorium after school sound good?"
Another nod.
I didn't bother with any more words. I went back to my seat and attempted to start the problems on the board. Mentally, I kept track of how many minutes were left until school ended. I never wished so hard for a long day.
~~~
For the first time in two months, I wasn't one of the first students to leave class. In fact, I was one of the last ones. It was the end of the day, yet I couldn't help but wish school lasted longer. As I was packing up my things, I could only think about what he would say. What he'd do. Would we argue? Would we both take it silently? The thoughts persisted even as I went to my locker to grab my coat and homework.
When I finally arrived at the auditorium, I saw him there. He uncomfortable up until he saw me. Then, he slipped his poker face back on. It was my turn to feel uncomfortable.
I put my stuff down next to his and gestured towards the doors. He followed me outside; he didn't bother with words. I took in a deep breath and exhaled.
"You're an idiot."
He looked at me again. I met his gaze, eye to eye.
"I read what you wrote last night. 'Now you're starting to make me think: were you really being my friend, or were you talking to me for something else?'" I stopped when I felt my eyes sting with tears. Another shaky breath, "So you think I'm just using our friendship, is that it? That all these years, I was just trying to get close to you so I can date you?"
I didn't let him protest. My anger was building up, along with the bitterness and hurt the accumulated over the past two weeks.
"Don't you dare talk to me about friendship. How many times have you taken me for granted? Do I need to remind you about the time you used me to get another girl's number? Or all those times I let you cry on my shoulder, and you never even bothered to say 'thank you'? Oh, how about all the times you've called me a whore? And that's not even the start of it! How about all these years you've led me on? Does THAT sound like you're innocent in all of this?"
"Led you on?" he interrupted, voice raising.
"Four years! That's how long I've wasted on you! Four fucking years, and all I ever hear is 'there's a really high chance that it'll happen.' Yeah, sure, whatever. I don't see you even trying with me, but I see you hitting on other girls. 'High chance' my ass. It just seems like you're stringing me along because you don't know what else to do."
......