GONER

30 • Red Skin and Movie Eyes

A/N: You should totally follow me on the trashy Twitter account I made when I was half asleep {{@loserclubz}}, and add me on snap if you wanna see my horrifying face {{@tbhgoaway}}

Dude, I started this story when I had, like, just turned twelve I think, and so the title is, of course, ridiculously uncreative. I don't have the heart to change it, though, and I think it goes with everything c:

This is awful, by the way. Gotta Zayn. And I put out another Joshler called The Catalyst. It's a dystopian fic and I'm excited about it. Read it if you'd like. Goner is still my main, though.

***

I've only been on three dates in my life, and they were all with this girl named Shannon in eighth grade, because I thought I knew what I was doing, when I really needed my mom to pay for everything. She also acted as our transportation to wherever we were supposed to be going, and, those dates never actually went well. I mean, our relationship ended when I figured out I was gay, and she started to think our relationship was too one-sided. I don't remember when she called me to tell me, but I wasn't upset about it, and so, no. I've never been on a real date. Besides, Shannon was vanilla and sweat, and Josh is smoke and old car seats. Huge difference.

My hands shook with nerves as I buttoned up the flannel I was wearing, knowing the weather wasn't too extreme in either direction. I had on a pair of the tightest blue jeans I owned, and hoped this was causal enough. The sleeves of my flannel were rolled up the smallest amount, so around four inches of my wrist were exposed, but I just shook it off, knowing he wouldn't care. I didn't want anything hidden tonight. Well, anything major. The guidance counselor thing could wait.

I haven't been in my mom's room in a while, but I was standing in front of her full length mirror, trying to control my breathing. The anxiety and nerves running through me was a product of seeing Josh and possibly forgetting how to walk and not knowing how to breathe, and I was terrified. I hoped my outfit was alright for whatever he had planned for the two of us, but I assumed.

He was going to be here in three minutes. It was 6:57, and my heart was caught in my throat. It was a miracle I was still getting air around it, but I just walked as calmly as possible into the hallway, taking one more deep, shattering breath, before gathering the strength to move down the stairs. Most of the time, my mom worked seven to seven, but she was on eight to eight now, and she was sitting in the kitchen. I could hear her. The sound she made when she was drinking coffee, the noise created when she opened the cabinets. I didn't know if she was being quiet for a reason, but she wasn't doing a decent job, in my opinion.

My footsteps were silent, seeing as I didn't have my shoes on just yet, and I wanted to go back up the stairs as soon as I saw the front door. Plus, I didn't know how to get past my mom without asking any questions, but she really didn't matter nearly as much as Josh did. So I made my way to my black shoes on the floor, slipped them on my feet, and stood there like an idiot waiting for something they might not even get.

What if he forgot? What if he just didn't want to be with me anymore? People change their mind all the time, but I didn't want him to. I want him to care for me as much as I cared for him, and I wanted him to be here. It was 6:59 now.

"What're you doing?" My mom asked, her eyebrows raised towards the clipboard on the table. "Get away from the door."

"I-I have a date."

The air was tense and heavy between the two of us, her body language rigid and incredulous. Her knuckles were void of color against the handle of her mug, and her long hair swished back and forth when she turned her head. "Do you remember what we talked about yesterday?" She asked me cautiously.