JUST MY TYPE

do mi ti, why not me?

it had been years ago when he was a puny little boy in his elementary school. the best student one could ask for, one who was loved and adored by everybody. that is, except for 2 groups of people. 

number one- his classmates. they were constantly being belittled, being compared to their star pupil classmate. the best in everything- be it sports, academics, art; you name it, he would excel in it with no problem. this was, however, a problem for his struggling classmates. "scaramouche is so annoying. he's just the teacher's pet. ew," a girl had whispered in his classmates' ears, where in response they nodded in agreement. everyone at the age of eight resented scaramouche to an unbelievable extent. 

how he had no friends despite his amazing capabilities puzzled the teachers. they would have assumed he was constantly swarmed by people, yet all that surrounded the young boy was nothingness. what puzzled them even more, was that at the teacher-parent meetings, his mother who was informed of her son's constant loneliness had not even batted an eyelid at the news.

which brings us to the next group of people. number two- his family. or rather, his mother. she was cold. she barely looked twice at her son's achievements, did not reprimand him for any wrongdoings, and overall just ignored her son who was clearly so desperately trying to get her attention. as other children adored his mother for not scolding him, he could only look longingly at the other parents who showered their children with the affection he so desired but the other kids stuck their tongues out at. 

the grass is always greener on the other side, as they say. 

music was something he enjoyed. he could play everything- from piano to violin to the electric guitar, he could all produce decent or breathtaking music. so when he had gotten his first phone from his mother as his first birthday gift after ages, he just listened to music all day. 

so much to the point where it was... concerning. 

"do mi ti, why not me?" the lyrics blasted at a concerningly loud volume into his headphones, despite him hating loud noises in general. for his whole freshman year in highschool, his whole life was practically just marina, mitski, chase atlantic, and conan gray. nothing more, nothing less. 

why couldn't it be him? why couldn't he be happy, like the others? 

when he had met you in the library which resulted in you running to the bathroom, it was... crushing and enlightening. crushing that he had driven away someone who had suffered the way he did, enlightened that there actually was someone out there like him. 

yet you were calling him petty? hah, what a joke. 

"if you call me petty, then you're even pettier," scaramouche grumbled tearfully. 

"fine, then we're both petty. we're petty together, if it makes you feel better. now stop crying," you mumbled, wiping away his tears. 

he cried even louder.