Somewhere Only We Know (Shoey)

Chapter One- Why Me?

Chapter One- Why me?

-Joey's P.O.V-

Alarm.

Ringing.

Shouting.

It feels as if my head is ready to smash like tiny shards of glass. I wish everything and everyone would just stop.

I drag myself out of my warm, cosy bed, regretting it as soon as the cold air hits my bare legs. I stand up too quickly and have to rub my aching temple.

Sick.

Tired.

Hungover.

"Holy fuck", This is what? The third time it has rang in the past fifteen minutes? Who the hell wants me at 10am on a Sunday?

"Hello?" I snap in annoyance.

"God Joey, someone has got out of the wrong side of the bed.. I was only wondering if you want to come to my house tonight." Sawyer.

I sit on my bed listening to him ramble on."My parents are out of town and I can get alcoho-"

"Sawyer, I was at Luke's party last night and I'm really hungover. I really don't want to go to your house tonight. And we have school tomorrow?" If I see any kind of beer, wine or spirits I will scream.

"Well, sorry Mr.Popular. They're only gone tonight. Who cares about school? I have to make the most of being home alone! Get any women last night then?", if only he knew..

"A few of them tried to get into bed with me, they failed-". They always did,"but they still tried."

He chuckles,"Joey I don't understand you, all the girls worship the ground you walk on; you could get any one you wanted. Yet you're still a virgin!" That's true. But it's not a girl that I want.

"Wait! What did you say?!!" Sawyer half screamed, nearly leaping through the phone at me.

Oh. Fuck.

Did I just say that out loud?!

Yup.

I drop the phone from my ear and stare at it on my lap.

I can faintly hear Sawyer demanding answers he won't get, but I don't pay any attention to it. I just told my biggest secret to one of the biggest douches in the whole school.

I'm fucked.

I'm ruined.

-Shane's P.O.V-

Another day of pain. Another day of torture. Another day.

My eyes are heavy, and it's really hard to keep them open. But my dad has been yelling at me,"Go get me a beer, faggot", for the past five minutes.

I need to get up. Can't upset the 'boss'.

I hear footsteps coming from downstairs, getting closer to me. Oh shit, he's coming up the stairs.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

He pushes my bedroom door open slowly causing it to squeak and wail as of it was trying to warn me of his presence. Like it was helping me, but no one helps me. I'm the fat ugly fag.

I hate those words.

Fat.

Ugly.

Fag.