Stupid Little Blue Haired Boy (boyxboy)

CiNcO.o

I don't think about Timmy, or even see him, besides a blur of neon in my periphery until lunch. I'm dumping my unused books into my locker when someone dances his way around the edge of its door.

Does this kid ever slow down?

"Hey!"

In his hand, he grips a purple beanie.

"It's lunch, right?"

I nod and continue shoving books into the small metal box.

"Do you mind if I, you know, sit with you? I haven't really met anyone else."

I'd point out the group of theater kids laughing their way across the hall, but his company doesn't sound like something I'd mind.

I may seem like I don't want to be around anyone, but after being in a publicly-exposed relationship for almost two years, I get lonely too. Really lonely.

I guess. My shoulders move up and down to resemble somewhat of a shrug.

"Alright! Cool!"

I shrink under the attention.

"Don't you eat?" he questions when my locker slams shut with nothing besides a binder full of poetry and a pencil resting in my backpack.

Not really.

Justin would be disappointed.

It's been a full twenty four hours since I last ate, without even a complaint from my stomach to remind me. Food doesn't appeal to me anymore.

That's a symptom of depression, yes, I realize that. I'm not going to deny that I'm aware of the existence of my depression, because that would be a lie. I used to be on medication for it, goddammit.

I haven't swallowed the little white pill in more days than I can count on my hands and toes. Once you stop for that long, it doesn't tend to work anymore.

"Where do you usually sit? I saw a bunch of tables in the cafeteria on my way to find you but I didn't really picture you sitting in there. You don't really seem to like people, do you? I thought we established this yesterday. But you must have had friends before, because you don't run from me or anything. You don't seem scared of me. Just a little annoyed, but I can't tell since you don't talk. Do I annoy you?"

You do enough talking for me, you and Justin. Don't you ever slow down?

"Sometimes I can't tell if you want me to stop. But I get the feeling if you really minded, you'd let me know in your own special way. Am I right?"

Listening to him takes my mind of everything else. At least I don't have to focus on the horrible images my brain is throwing at me.

You keep on talking, I don't mind.

"Are you mute, Damian? Because that would explain why you don't speak," he throws out and follows me out around the back of the school where only the bravest couples would dare to venture. Out here, the misfit cliques dot the campus. "But the way the lady in the office talked about you made it seem like you used to speak. She almost made you sound like you used to be happy."

Like you have no idea, kid. I used to be the happiest person in this goddamn town.

"Were you happy, Damian? Did Justin make you happy?"

I admire his fearlessness. But the question kills me on the inside. It takes every ounce of self-control not to break down into a million pieces, to keep my composure from shattering like a mirror onto the ground.  Seven years of bad luck.