_loverboys

_happy

[*WARNING*: MAJOR SPOILERS FOR LOVERS: BOARDING SCHOOL VOL.3//FINALITIES AND REALITIES. If you do not want to be potentially spoiled for LBS2 (currently posting) DO NOT READ THIS SHORT STORY!]

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

Thank you and enjoy!
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> Jack
> D:2
> D:3
> error_E9
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XO/XO

"Hey, have you seen Sad Boy?"

Another shrug of the shoulders. Another shake of the head. Another "sorry haven't seen him, check [insert place here]".

"Sorry man, can't help you out."

Jack sighed and patted his team mate on the shoulder as he descended down the timber stairs his team mate was ascending in the opposite direction. "No probs Donnie. I guess he's still pissed at me."

Aside from the annoyingly rotary responses he received, Jack had gotten a few colourful ones that went along the lines of:

"He told me he won't talk to you 'til you give him his phone back."

"He said you've crossed the line so now he doesn't want to see you."

And his favourite:

"He said you're a dick."

"I saw him walk into the kitchen about an hour ago," said one of his team mates who, among a horde of other sweaty, energetic teenagers, swamped the couches facing the perversely giant flat screen TV flashing pre-game stats and past game highlights in high resolution.

"Thanks Maddie," Jack sighed as he headed off to the kitchen, relieved someone had a fucking clue as to the whereabouts of the elusive "Sad Boy."

"The final's gonna start in 10 Jackie," said one of the couch fellows sitting beside Maddie. "You better find Sad Boy soon."

Jack waved his hand in the air without looking back at the chads on the couches. "I got it. I got it." It wasn't like I was looking for his ass for the past half hour.

When he made to the doors of the kitchen, Jack opened the door with his fingertips and peered through the widening crack of the opening.

"Looking for Sad Boy?"

Jack wasn't even inside the kitchen when a stalky guy stacking weed brownies into neat pyramids asked him the question. He grimaced. That fucking Laverne has a third eye or something.

"Could you tell me where he's at Terry?" Jack said, fully entering the kitchen. Just as he let the kitchen door close behind him, he was hit with the noxious fumes of horrendously prepped game grub, the overwhelming smell of it turning his sensitive stomach inside out. Ew.

"He left through the back," said Max who was emptying a spray can's worth of processed cheese on a mountain of stale nachos. Jack made a face.

"Do you really think it was a good idea to abduct him Jackie?" said a brawny team member who was too busy draining their beer reserves to help out with any of the "cooking"