(no subject)
Title: A Scenario Of You And Me
Rating: I have absolutely no Idea.
Part: 1
People involved:
- David / OMC
- Ryan / OMC
POW: David's
Summary: high school stuff... (I suck at summaries)
Notes:
*The idea behind the whole thing is that it will be 'song inspired'.. each chapter another song. Not like a song-fic or anything... just read and you will see what I mean. [the song is in the chapter. I'd say you should listen to it to get the 'mood' of the chapter]
the song for this chapter:
refused - summer holidays vs punk routine
lyrics
6:30. Monday. Monday morning. A normal Monday morning. The only difference between the last couple of Monday mornings: it’s 6:30. My alarm clock is ringing. The last couple of Monday mornings my alarm clock didn’t ring at 6:30. It didn’t ring at all.
I press the button to stop this terrible noise. 6:30. Horror. My hand finds it’s way to my watch on the bedside table and I blink when I try to find out what time it really is. Half past 6. I press my head face down into the pillow and a low groan escapes through.
Leaning on my elbows to lift my body up I try to get out of the bed but fail miserably. I get entangled in the bedspread and fall face front on the carped. (thanks god in who I don’t believe that I was insisting on having carped in my room…) that hurts, I can tell you. Trying to stand up I glance at the red digital numbers of my alarm clock. 6:31.
Freeing myself from the bedspread that is twined around my legs I stand up and walk over to my stereo. I yawn while pressing the ‘skip forward’ button to track 4. I thought of skipping to track 6 to blow something right in my face that will wake me up in a matter of seconds (if you just ignore the fact that the intro of the song is endless) but I won’t now. Track 6 is the ‘’cult song’, the song everybody knows. The song everybody loves. But I love track 4.
My finger hovers over the ‘play’ button and I smirk. This damn CD is 6 years old. The band split before I knew they existed. I got into them because I saw the singer’s new band at the Warped Tour and immediately got addicted. I didn’t know much about anything at that time. When I heard the word ‘hardcore’ I wasn’t thinking about music. But after seeing the band live and doing some research on the internet… well.. I found this band. I found a whole new scene, a whole new world. I was just made for it.
I glance at the alarm clock again. 6:34. I’ve lost another 3 minutes. I’ve lost hearing the song once. Sighing I press the ‘play’ button and right after that ‘repeat’. I’m not going to listen to anything else today.
“I'm tired of losing myself to some stupid childhood dream of what I could have been
Money proves the point and I'm stuck between summer holidays & punk routine....“
You see why I am so hooked on this song? It truly is exactly what I feel like. I mean… I’m only 16 now but I already feel like I am not going to be what I could have been. I could have been one of the popular kids, I could have been cool, I could have more than two friends…
But I decided otherwise. I decided to be the weird outcast.
And this thing about punk routine? For me.. that means waking up at 6:30 by an alarm clock sound. Falling off the bed and listening to refused. (yes, that’s that band, in case you are retarded and didn’t know that by now!)
Summer holidays are over and my final high school year starts today. No more festivals, no more hanging out with Matt and Chris until the middle of the night, or not coming home at all. I could still do that, though. My parents don’t care about those things. They don’t care about me at all.
The song is over and starts again. 6:37. I should get ready.
Yawning again I find my way to the bathroom, look in the mirror and sigh. Would anybody ever think I am attractive? Would anybody ever tell me that I’m beautiful?
I hate myself thinking like that. I hate myself being so emo. But it reflects what I am like.
I’m just really lonely.
I don’t care about being a 16 years old boy and still a virgin. I don’t need to fool around and get experienced. All I want is to feel something. Am I truly the only one who wants to find someone special?
I open the cupboard and take out what I need: toothbrush and paste, comb, eyeliner and mascara… (I started using these things during the summer. I never really thought about it before but after seeing some guys at shows wearing make up and looking really good I though I could try that as-well. And now I can’t go out of the house without it…)
I always do the same mistake. I should get dressed before I put on the make-up.
Back in my room I put the clothes from the chair I put them last night and stumble when I try to get into my jeans. I’m still not fully awake. 6:58. I put on a nice tight black t-shirt that says “I shot JFK” in pink letters and grin when I knot the shoelaces of my pretty out-worn red Chuck Taylor’s. I wonder if my old class mates will even recognize me. Three month ago I was the average outcast. Looking too normal to be noticed. Now I’m running around in tight jeans (they’re actually girls jeans but who cares if it’s looking good?), stupid t-shirts, shoes that were ‘in’ when my parents were still in high school and jet black hair. All of this will probably lead me into trouble but at least I will get some attention. I’m tired of being invisible. I'm not giving in any more.
Once again the alarm clock. 7:05. I have one of those 'you can have two separate alarm times'. The second alarm is the signal for me to get ready, grab my stuff and head downstairs to join my family having breakfast. Today I won’t. I never do, though. punk routine.
I press the ‘snooze’ button to make the alarm go on again in 10 minutes and fall backwards on my bed, closing my eyes and sighing. Everyday life has got me once again….
I listen to the music coming from my speakers and before I notice anything the alarm goes once again. 7:15. It’s time.
I go to the stereo, wait for the last words to echo down and press the ‘stop’ button. My bag is swung around my shoulder and I open my door, run back to my nightstand to grab my watch and put it on while leaving my room, making my way downstairs and in the direction of the front door.
“I’m off to school, bye.” I stand in the door frame for a couple of seconds but get no reply. They never reply. Once I shouted I’d be off the school to kill them all. My parents didn’t say anything.
7:23. I’m in front of Matt’s house. He opens the door at 7:24. It’s always like that. It’s part of our punk routine. He shuts the door behind him and we make our way to Chris’ house. He lives a bit closer to the school and we arrive at 7:41. Matt knocks twice and the door opens.
“Good morning, Mrs. Peters.” She told us to call her ‘Dora’ a billion times.
“I told you to call me Dora a billion times.” punk routine. “Chris is ready in a minute, I’ll tell him you’re here…”
Matt and I stand in the floor and I stare at my watch counting the seconds. …..57…58…59…
“Hey guys” punk routine. Exactly one minute.
Chris gives us his brightest every-day-smile like this is all routine. (because it is)
“Daily terror, here we come.” Matt say when we leave the house. He smiles and I just nod. Another part of our punk routine is this ‘not talking until we’re at Chris’ house’-deal. Nobody knows why and we never talk about it. Chris might not even know about it.
7:55. We enter the school building. Sometimes I wonder if our school is the only High School in the whole country that starts classes at 8. We try to avoid as many students as possible while we are making our way to our lockers and to our different home class rooms. None of us is a very social kind of person. I’m always wondering how Chris and Matt got girlfriends. And to be honest… I envy them. Not because of their girls but because of knowing how it feels like to like somebody in more than a friends way.
I enter my home class room exactly with the bell ring. punk routine.
Being one of the first students in the class I just pick a seat in the back, wall side. Everybody always wants window side. I don’t go with majority.
The class fills and at 8:06 the teacher enters. The name he writes on the table lets me assume that his name is Mr. Terb.
He starts the normal home class stuff, tells us which teachers are already ill and that we should write down everything. Business as usual. punk routine.
After lifting my hand and getting some ‘nice’ comments when my name is called out when Mr. Terb checks the attendance-list I sigh and put a note book out, starting to doodle and write down a few lines. Most of them just words put together. I love to write things that make sense when you see the whole and not just one or two sentences. 8:12.
I’m brought back to reality by the door flying open and a blond haired students rushing into the class, almost stumbling over his own feet. (I see lime green chucks!)
Mr. Terb turns his head, looks at the persons who just interrupted him.
“Is this 11B? I was stuck in 11A until the attendance was checked and Mrs. Winkler send me in this class.” The blond (with almost white highlights) has a very catchy voice. Indescribable.
“This is 11B. What is your name?” Mr. Terb sounds annoyed.
I listen. “Ryan Sketcher.” Ryan Sketcher is his name.
“Yes you are in this home class.” Mr. Terb is checking his list. “Take a seat, I will give the class the schedules now.”
Oh yeah. Schedules. I’m excited. (Oh yeah. I like sarcasm.) 8:22.
Blond-with-white-highlights, Ryan, looks through the classroom in search of an empty seat, bits on his lower lip and cocks an eyebrow when he sees me. His lips now form a light smile and he comes to the back of the class, stops in front of the empty seat next to mine.
“Is anybody sitting there already?” he sounds excited, looks at me and starts grinning.
I don’t know what to think about that. I’m taken by surprise and shake my head. Damn. I’m sure he asked because he wants to actually sit there! Next. to. me. I don’t like having anybody sitting next to me. (Except Matt or Chris of course, they’re my friends.)
“As if anybody would voluntarily sit next to this freak…” this sharp comment was by Daniel who is sitting in front of me. Stupid asshole. He turns around and looks at Ryan, then snorts. “Maybe another freak would….”
“Okay, so I guess I can sit here?” Ryan is still smiling at me, ignoring Daniel.
I nod, almost staring at him. His blue eyes covered in dark eyeliner and mascara have some magic attraction to me…. Combined with his almost white hair… I could think he had wings and was secretly an angel or something.
Me and my stupid imagination. But I do think he is really beautiful in an odd way.
Wait… does he even wear eye shadow?? And is it pink??
It fits him, though.
“I’m Ryan, as you might have heard, who are you?” This voice…
I am lost. “I’m….. I’m David.”
“Nice to meet you, David. Do you think you could show me around later on? I’m new and orientation is one of my weak points.”
“Sure.” 8:24. “I’ll catch up my friends when this is over to check if we have any lessons together and after that I could show you around.”
“Cool.” He takes out his stuff and writes down a few things Mr. Terb is telling us. My eyes catch something else. It’s pretty small but I swear it’s there. He’s got a tiny tattoo on his right wrist.
When Mr. Terb has handed us our schedule we check if we have any more classes together.
“Awesome! You have creative writing, rock history and art as-well? I knew you were a guy I’d come along with.” He is letting that out after analyzing my schedule two minutes. It’s 8:29 now.
I smile at him, thinking the same now. I get a good ‘vibe’ from him. That doesn’t happen a lot. I’d only stared at my watch 6 times since he sat down next to me. That’s a new record.
“Yeah. I just hope my friends will be in at least one or two of these courses as-well, last year we didn’t even have lunch together…” I start babbling as soon as I feel comfortable. I hate it.
“I know what you mean, me and my boyf…. I mean ex-boyfriend had one lesson together and that was it. Sucked a lot at that time.” Did he say boyfriend???
“Did you say boyfriend???” Daniel must have sharp ears. He’s turned to us again and is staring at Ryan.
“Eh… ex-boyfriend, yeah.” Ryan answers, his voice clearly showing that he is slightly annoyed. “Mind your own business and stop listening to other people’s conversations.”
I glance at him and at Daniel. This is going to be bad. 8:41.
“Better watch your mouth, fag, or..”
“Or what? Or you and your friends will beat the shit out of me? Try that and you will see what you will take out of it…” Ryan smirks at him, leans back into his chair and folds his hands over his head. “Maybe I should inform you that I am taught Judo since I was 6 years old. If I was you I’d think about who I tread how. You wouldn’t be the first jock beaten up by a.. how did you call me again? Right, a fag.”
I totally didn’t expect that. I have to say I’m impressed. Daniel obviously is as-well. 8:44.
“I just warn you to stay away from me…” he says with a low voice. If I wouldn’t know him any better I said he realized he shouldn’t mess with Ryan.
“You warn me? Yeah, ride on.” Ryan rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry, sweetie. Home-Coming-King kind of guys are not my type. I have taste.”
Daniel mumbles something and turns his back to us. Ryan smiles at me.
The bell rings. 8:45. normal school day starts. And Ryan is smiling at me with his alluring eyes. There goes my punk routine. I wonder…. What kind of guys are his type?
Rating: I have absolutely no Idea.
Part: 1
People involved:
- David / OMC
- Ryan / OMC
POW: David's
Summary: high school stuff... (I suck at summaries)
Notes:
*The idea behind the whole thing is that it will be 'song inspired'.. each chapter another song. Not like a song-fic or anything... just read and you will see what I mean. [the song is in the chapter. I'd say you should listen to it to get the 'mood' of the chapter]
the song for this chapter:
refused - summer holidays vs punk routine
lyrics
6:30. Monday. Monday morning. A normal Monday morning. The only difference between the last couple of Monday mornings: it’s 6:30. My alarm clock is ringing. The last couple of Monday mornings my alarm clock didn’t ring at 6:30. It didn’t ring at all.
I press the button to stop this terrible noise. 6:30. Horror. My hand finds it’s way to my watch on the bedside table and I blink when I try to find out what time it really is. Half past 6. I press my head face down into the pillow and a low groan escapes through.
Leaning on my elbows to lift my body up I try to get out of the bed but fail miserably. I get entangled in the bedspread and fall face front on the carped. (thanks god in who I don’t believe that I was insisting on having carped in my room…) that hurts, I can tell you. Trying to stand up I glance at the red digital numbers of my alarm clock. 6:31.
Freeing myself from the bedspread that is twined around my legs I stand up and walk over to my stereo. I yawn while pressing the ‘skip forward’ button to track 4. I thought of skipping to track 6 to blow something right in my face that will wake me up in a matter of seconds (if you just ignore the fact that the intro of the song is endless) but I won’t now. Track 6 is the ‘’cult song’, the song everybody knows. The song everybody loves. But I love track 4.
My finger hovers over the ‘play’ button and I smirk. This damn CD is 6 years old. The band split before I knew they existed. I got into them because I saw the singer’s new band at the Warped Tour and immediately got addicted. I didn’t know much about anything at that time. When I heard the word ‘hardcore’ I wasn’t thinking about music. But after seeing the band live and doing some research on the internet… well.. I found this band. I found a whole new scene, a whole new world. I was just made for it.
I glance at the alarm clock again. 6:34. I’ve lost another 3 minutes. I’ve lost hearing the song once. Sighing I press the ‘play’ button and right after that ‘repeat’. I’m not going to listen to anything else today.
“I'm tired of losing myself to some stupid childhood dream of what I could have been
Money proves the point and I'm stuck between summer holidays & punk routine....“
You see why I am so hooked on this song? It truly is exactly what I feel like. I mean… I’m only 16 now but I already feel like I am not going to be what I could have been. I could have been one of the popular kids, I could have been cool, I could have more than two friends…
But I decided otherwise. I decided to be the weird outcast.
And this thing about punk routine? For me.. that means waking up at 6:30 by an alarm clock sound. Falling off the bed and listening to refused. (yes, that’s that band, in case you are retarded and didn’t know that by now!)
Summer holidays are over and my final high school year starts today. No more festivals, no more hanging out with Matt and Chris until the middle of the night, or not coming home at all. I could still do that, though. My parents don’t care about those things. They don’t care about me at all.
The song is over and starts again. 6:37. I should get ready.
Yawning again I find my way to the bathroom, look in the mirror and sigh. Would anybody ever think I am attractive? Would anybody ever tell me that I’m beautiful?
I hate myself thinking like that. I hate myself being so emo. But it reflects what I am like.
I’m just really lonely.
I don’t care about being a 16 years old boy and still a virgin. I don’t need to fool around and get experienced. All I want is to feel something. Am I truly the only one who wants to find someone special?
I open the cupboard and take out what I need: toothbrush and paste, comb, eyeliner and mascara… (I started using these things during the summer. I never really thought about it before but after seeing some guys at shows wearing make up and looking really good I though I could try that as-well. And now I can’t go out of the house without it…)
I always do the same mistake. I should get dressed before I put on the make-up.
Back in my room I put the clothes from the chair I put them last night and stumble when I try to get into my jeans. I’m still not fully awake. 6:58. I put on a nice tight black t-shirt that says “I shot JFK” in pink letters and grin when I knot the shoelaces of my pretty out-worn red Chuck Taylor’s. I wonder if my old class mates will even recognize me. Three month ago I was the average outcast. Looking too normal to be noticed. Now I’m running around in tight jeans (they’re actually girls jeans but who cares if it’s looking good?), stupid t-shirts, shoes that were ‘in’ when my parents were still in high school and jet black hair. All of this will probably lead me into trouble but at least I will get some attention. I’m tired of being invisible. I'm not giving in any more.
Once again the alarm clock. 7:05. I have one of those 'you can have two separate alarm times'. The second alarm is the signal for me to get ready, grab my stuff and head downstairs to join my family having breakfast. Today I won’t. I never do, though. punk routine.
I press the ‘snooze’ button to make the alarm go on again in 10 minutes and fall backwards on my bed, closing my eyes and sighing. Everyday life has got me once again….
I listen to the music coming from my speakers and before I notice anything the alarm goes once again. 7:15. It’s time.
I go to the stereo, wait for the last words to echo down and press the ‘stop’ button. My bag is swung around my shoulder and I open my door, run back to my nightstand to grab my watch and put it on while leaving my room, making my way downstairs and in the direction of the front door.
“I’m off to school, bye.” I stand in the door frame for a couple of seconds but get no reply. They never reply. Once I shouted I’d be off the school to kill them all. My parents didn’t say anything.
7:23. I’m in front of Matt’s house. He opens the door at 7:24. It’s always like that. It’s part of our punk routine. He shuts the door behind him and we make our way to Chris’ house. He lives a bit closer to the school and we arrive at 7:41. Matt knocks twice and the door opens.
“Good morning, Mrs. Peters.” She told us to call her ‘Dora’ a billion times.
“I told you to call me Dora a billion times.” punk routine. “Chris is ready in a minute, I’ll tell him you’re here…”
Matt and I stand in the floor and I stare at my watch counting the seconds. …..57…58…59…
“Hey guys” punk routine. Exactly one minute.
Chris gives us his brightest every-day-smile like this is all routine. (because it is)
“Daily terror, here we come.” Matt say when we leave the house. He smiles and I just nod. Another part of our punk routine is this ‘not talking until we’re at Chris’ house’-deal. Nobody knows why and we never talk about it. Chris might not even know about it.
7:55. We enter the school building. Sometimes I wonder if our school is the only High School in the whole country that starts classes at 8. We try to avoid as many students as possible while we are making our way to our lockers and to our different home class rooms. None of us is a very social kind of person. I’m always wondering how Chris and Matt got girlfriends. And to be honest… I envy them. Not because of their girls but because of knowing how it feels like to like somebody in more than a friends way.
I enter my home class room exactly with the bell ring. punk routine.
Being one of the first students in the class I just pick a seat in the back, wall side. Everybody always wants window side. I don’t go with majority.
The class fills and at 8:06 the teacher enters. The name he writes on the table lets me assume that his name is Mr. Terb.
He starts the normal home class stuff, tells us which teachers are already ill and that we should write down everything. Business as usual. punk routine.
After lifting my hand and getting some ‘nice’ comments when my name is called out when Mr. Terb checks the attendance-list I sigh and put a note book out, starting to doodle and write down a few lines. Most of them just words put together. I love to write things that make sense when you see the whole and not just one or two sentences. 8:12.
I’m brought back to reality by the door flying open and a blond haired students rushing into the class, almost stumbling over his own feet. (I see lime green chucks!)
Mr. Terb turns his head, looks at the persons who just interrupted him.
“Is this 11B? I was stuck in 11A until the attendance was checked and Mrs. Winkler send me in this class.” The blond (with almost white highlights) has a very catchy voice. Indescribable.
“This is 11B. What is your name?” Mr. Terb sounds annoyed.
I listen. “Ryan Sketcher.” Ryan Sketcher is his name.
“Yes you are in this home class.” Mr. Terb is checking his list. “Take a seat, I will give the class the schedules now.”
Oh yeah. Schedules. I’m excited. (Oh yeah. I like sarcasm.) 8:22.
Blond-with-white-highlights, Ryan, looks through the classroom in search of an empty seat, bits on his lower lip and cocks an eyebrow when he sees me. His lips now form a light smile and he comes to the back of the class, stops in front of the empty seat next to mine.
“Is anybody sitting there already?” he sounds excited, looks at me and starts grinning.
I don’t know what to think about that. I’m taken by surprise and shake my head. Damn. I’m sure he asked because he wants to actually sit there! Next. to. me. I don’t like having anybody sitting next to me. (Except Matt or Chris of course, they’re my friends.)
“As if anybody would voluntarily sit next to this freak…” this sharp comment was by Daniel who is sitting in front of me. Stupid asshole. He turns around and looks at Ryan, then snorts. “Maybe another freak would….”
“Okay, so I guess I can sit here?” Ryan is still smiling at me, ignoring Daniel.
I nod, almost staring at him. His blue eyes covered in dark eyeliner and mascara have some magic attraction to me…. Combined with his almost white hair… I could think he had wings and was secretly an angel or something.
Me and my stupid imagination. But I do think he is really beautiful in an odd way.
Wait… does he even wear eye shadow?? And is it pink??
It fits him, though.
“I’m Ryan, as you might have heard, who are you?” This voice…
I am lost. “I’m….. I’m David.”
“Nice to meet you, David. Do you think you could show me around later on? I’m new and orientation is one of my weak points.”
“Sure.” 8:24. “I’ll catch up my friends when this is over to check if we have any lessons together and after that I could show you around.”
“Cool.” He takes out his stuff and writes down a few things Mr. Terb is telling us. My eyes catch something else. It’s pretty small but I swear it’s there. He’s got a tiny tattoo on his right wrist.
When Mr. Terb has handed us our schedule we check if we have any more classes together.
“Awesome! You have creative writing, rock history and art as-well? I knew you were a guy I’d come along with.” He is letting that out after analyzing my schedule two minutes. It’s 8:29 now.
I smile at him, thinking the same now. I get a good ‘vibe’ from him. That doesn’t happen a lot. I’d only stared at my watch 6 times since he sat down next to me. That’s a new record.
“Yeah. I just hope my friends will be in at least one or two of these courses as-well, last year we didn’t even have lunch together…” I start babbling as soon as I feel comfortable. I hate it.
“I know what you mean, me and my boyf…. I mean ex-boyfriend had one lesson together and that was it. Sucked a lot at that time.” Did he say boyfriend???
“Did you say boyfriend???” Daniel must have sharp ears. He’s turned to us again and is staring at Ryan.
“Eh… ex-boyfriend, yeah.” Ryan answers, his voice clearly showing that he is slightly annoyed. “Mind your own business and stop listening to other people’s conversations.”
I glance at him and at Daniel. This is going to be bad. 8:41.
“Better watch your mouth, fag, or..”
“Or what? Or you and your friends will beat the shit out of me? Try that and you will see what you will take out of it…” Ryan smirks at him, leans back into his chair and folds his hands over his head. “Maybe I should inform you that I am taught Judo since I was 6 years old. If I was you I’d think about who I tread how. You wouldn’t be the first jock beaten up by a.. how did you call me again? Right, a fag.”
I totally didn’t expect that. I have to say I’m impressed. Daniel obviously is as-well. 8:44.
“I just warn you to stay away from me…” he says with a low voice. If I wouldn’t know him any better I said he realized he shouldn’t mess with Ryan.
“You warn me? Yeah, ride on.” Ryan rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry, sweetie. Home-Coming-King kind of guys are not my type. I have taste.”
Daniel mumbles something and turns his back to us. Ryan smiles at me.
The bell rings. 8:45. normal school day starts. And Ryan is smiling at me with his alluring eyes. There goes my punk routine. I wonder…. What kind of guys are his type?