yall r being forced to read my gayass story

School sucked proveribial dick.

This was the main thought echoing through his albeit quite empty head as he barrelled down the hallways, bag haphazardly slung over his arm and resting uncomfortably in the crook of his neck, bumping shoulders with the occasional kid trying desperately to get to his locker through the rows of people with their shoulders slumped, marching down the hall. 

Himself, a blur of blue uniform, green spiked up hair and black combat boots, sticking out like a sore thumb. Quite a lot more than a thumb was going to be sore if he didn’t keep running, however. 

Where was he running to? A mighty fine question. Mighty fine. Amazing, even. Great. Outstanding. Can you tell he had no fucking clue? Because he didn’t. 

It’d take a gift from God right about now to save him, and he’s pretty sure he isn’t in The Big Guy’s good books, but the next thing he knows he's being pulled into a door, a firm grip on his arm yanking him into a darkened, seemingly near-abandoned classroom and shutting the door behind him, hearing the click of him locking it shut. 

Is this God? Is God’s new hobby taking the form of a not too unattractive (that’s putting it lightly) teenage boy  with black hair that looked like it hadn’t been washed in around a week and strikingly blue eyes? 

Weird hobby if you ask him, but be yourself I guess.

He flopped down on the floor in front of the door, panting furiously, desperately trying to recover lost breath as he heard the whoops of the older boys who were chasing him getting louder, then quieter, then louder, then quieter as they searched for him. He heard an opening of a locker, which he found quite offensive, he wasn’t that short as he would fit in there.

He would say hi, be polite and courteous, perhaps inquire about the guy’s day, but manners are lost on one who’s just been running for ten simply straight, simply muttering “fucking christ” under his breath, limbs fatigued far too much to so much as gesture.

He raised his eyes, head still resting on his knees, ignoring the pain from one of the many grazes and staring at the kid. Poor guy looked like a nervous wreck, shifting his feet and glancing around, muscles tensed and shaking. What was he doing in a dark classroom in the middle of a lesson, anyway?
The kid - he looked no more than, what, 17? 16 maybe? - noticed his staring, and glanced away, then back again, peering down at his crumpled form.

“Are you, like, okay?” His voice was raspy and high pitched, like nails being dragged across a blackboard, but not rough on the ears. It was kind of calming, if he was being honest, either that or the sheer tired-ness was getting to him.

“Yeah..hh.. I’m fine and dandy” He paused for a breath, sucking in sweet air. “That’s why I’m sitting on the floor, in the dark, hiding from a bunch of kids.” He gestured towards the door, waving a hand around in the air, rings clacking against each other. Fuck, that was a long sentence.

“You didn’t answer the question, man.”

“I’m skillfully avoiding it,” he scoffed, rubbing his eyes.

“I wouldn’t say skillfully,” a breath of air, soothing his throbbing head.

“That’s offensive to my brand, I’d be in the right mind to sue you for slander”

“And what brand would that be?” He could hear the smile in the guy’s voice, he would be smiling too, he’s  a joy to be around, people tell him that all the time.

“The brand of fucking swag, bitch,” He pointed a finger dramatically, relying on pure instinct for it to be pointing the right way.

“Uh-huh…” Apparently his instinct had failed him once more, as he felt the guy’s cold and surprisingly rough hand - wow, it couldn’t at least have been, like, warm and gentle and give him a high school first love romantic moment, what the fuck, god is based - guided his directly in front of where he was flopped on the floor still. “You could’ve at least used, like, echolocation to do that.” He frowned, eyes still closed comfortably. “That’s a bat thing, man.”

“That’s a bat thing?”
“Yep.”

“Oh.”
Silence.

“That explains why you didn’t use it then.”
“Yeah.”

Silence again, so deathly quiet he could hear the distinct chattering of students outside. He hated the quiet. It though. Fuck, he should say something, anything, get up, thank the guy, ask him out - no, fuck that, why? Why was he such a gay stereotype? Y’know what? Fuck gay people, he’s going hetero, he’s- “you aren’t even going to thank me for letting you in here?” He could practically hear the smirk in his voice, fuck he was so actually so gay it hurt, it physically hurt, wait no, that’s his lack of breathing, wait shit he forgot to breathe- 

“I’d thank you more if you’d help me up, thanks,” he opened the palm of his hand from where he was, embarrassingly, still pointing, finally raising his head to look up at the guy in his eyes, his fucking beautiful eyes, who chose to give this guy literally the most attractive eyes every oh my fucking god this is incredibly rude.