• Hello everybody! We have tons of new awards for the new year that can be requested through our Awards System thanks to Antifa Lockhart! Some are limited-time awards so go claim them before they are gone forever...

    CLICK HERE FOR AWARDS

Fanfiction ► Untitled [extended version]



REGISTER TO REMOVE ADS
Status
Not open for further replies.

Zeph

imp of the perverse
Joined
May 12, 2007
Messages
4,057
Location
Waiting on you, dear.
Prologue

I want you. I’ve thought about it long and hard, and I can’t get past my original conclusion. I want you. Don’t ask me why, because I wouldn’t be able to tell you. I can’t even understand it myself. What could someone like me see in someone like you? I shouldn’t be staring at you when you’re not looking, wondering what it’d be like if you would look at me and smile. I should be yelling at you, hating you, and telling you that someone like you will never get anywhere in the world because you’re so different. The world doesn’t welcome originality with open arms. You’d just drag me down. You’re not normal. So why in the hell do I want you?

It’s your eyes. The way you look when you’re sitting alone in that corner, drawing. You look alive. The way your face filled with despair when I took your notebook filled with drawings and threw it out the window into that dirty, disgusting pond. Being different will only hurt you, so just stop already! You piss me off so much! No one likes you. Yet you continue to come day after day. Why? I wish you would just go away already, so I wouldn’t have to look at you. Maybe then I could get you off my mind. Even then, I doubt it. If you failed to show up one day, I’d probably end up searching for you, and then yell at you because “the teacher was worried”. But then, maybe, if we were alone and in no danger of being overheard, I might tell you that I was worried too. Maybe I would tell you that I’m sorry. Sorry for all of the horrible things I’ve said to you and done. Maybe I would tell you that after I threw your notebook out the window, I went and picked it up again, and now I have every single water-ruined page plastered on my wall. Maybe I would tell you… that I’ve loved you since second grade.

~~~


“All right students, settle down! We have a new student.”

That’s what the teacher said that day, just a few minutes into class. She said that before going to the door and pulling you into class gently, by the hand.

Grade 2: Of Smiles and Sorrow


When everyone heard that there was a new kid, a silence immediately fell over the classroom and everyone stared at the boy in front of the blackboard. You had black hair and frightened blue eyes the color of a frosty sky, and you shyly gazed at us in silence as the teacher told us you had just transferred here from Seattle with your parents, and that your name was Micah Thatcher. Then, she pointed at the seat next to me and told you to sit there. When I saw you making your way towards me with your eyes on the ground, I remember that my stomach started to turn and I felt sick. Because, you know back then, I was really shy too. But when I introduced myself, you smiled.

That was the moment I fell in love with you.



Exactly two months and three days later, in the middle of the second grade, you didn’t show up for class. When I asked the teacher where you were, she said that your father had called and excused you from school. She said that he hadn’t given a reason, but I didn’t worry. There was almost always someone in our grade who did not show up for school one day. It wasn’t anything unusual.

The next day you didn’t show up either.

Or the next.

And when you didn‘t show up the day after that I began to get worried.

You did not show up for two weeks.

Then when you did come back, you came into class late, with dark circles under your pretty blue eyes. The teacher stopped writing on the blackboard and bent down to talk to you. After a moment or so, you shook your head ‘no’ and the teacher looked like she was about to cry. But she pointed you back to your old seat next to me, and you came and sat down without even looking at me. I said hi, and asked where you had been, but you didn’t answer. You still didn’t look at me. You didn’t start doodling on paper like you usually did, either. You just sat there. You didn’t say a word to anyone all day, and you barely spoke the next day. Still though, you didn’t smile and you didn‘t draw.

After a week or so, I decided to go to your house and see what the matter was. I thought that maybe you would be able to talk there if you weren’t able to do so in school. Your dad answered the door, and he looked as sad as you did. I asked him if I could talk to you and he told me you were sleeping. So I did the next thing that came to mind and asked what the matter was with you. And he told me. He told me your mom had died. He said that the three of you had moved here to California because the doctor said it might help your mom get better, but she had not. Then, two weeks ago, she had died. He explained that you were very close to your mother, and were taking her death extremely hard. I could only stand there, staring at your dad in shock, until you came to the door. Your hair was messy and your eyes were red and puffy like you had been crying, and you glared at me. I remember you had your fists clenched tight and, as you yelled at me that it was not any of my business and that you hated me for coming to your house, tears spilled from your eyes. I remember turning and running home, still too shocked to think. But most of all, your words reverberated in my mind. You hated me.

I never talked to you in the same way again. The next day when you came to class, I didn’t even bother looking up at you for more than a brief fraction of a second. I wouldn’t speak to you until you apologized; but even when you quietly spoke my name right after recess, I didn’t look at you. I was waiting for you to apologize but, at the same time, I wouldn’t forgive you for humiliating me like that.

The weeks passed and I still didn’t speak to you unless I absolutely had to.

Then months passed, and by then, the hurt was mutual. You eventually stopped trying to talk to me and I continued to ignore you.

And then school was over for the summer. I was happy about summer break, but not being able to see you all summer was such a bittersweet feeling. I didn’t want to see you, but at the same time… I knew I still liked you.

[Edit] Didn't mean to post this in fanfiction.
 
Last edited:
Status
Not open for further replies.
Back
Top