jack settles back in his chair and crumples up a piece of paper, aiming it at the trash can. it misses and falls to the ground, but he doesn't really give a shit.
cause there's four fucking days until alex leaves, and he can't fucking stand it.
god. his dependency on alex scares him sometimes- he thinks about his past 'hatred' of the boy and rolls his eyes. it's gone so ridiculous he doesn't find it that funny anymore. it used to be hilarious. 'hey, we used to hate each other, now we kind of make out and jerk each other off a lot, isn't it wonderful?' which it is, of course, but like- yikes.
whatever. it's all whatever. jack leans back and pushes the chair off the ground, balancing on the back two legs. he purses his lips and chews on the lower one, not really in the mood to do anything. he could write (emo poetry about not wanting alex to leave), he could text someone (alex), he could go take a shower (and jerk off while... well, while thinking about alex).
it's best he does none of those things, really.
jack shrugs and goes to put on some shit from weezer. more teenage angst to rival his own. let's play a game- who's angstier, jack or the lyricist of weezer?
they're both pretty strong contenders, honestly.
being the emo boy he is, jack lies on his bed listening to the music and slowly drifts off, trying not to think of alex.
i rewrote this cause it fuckin sucked lmao
