space dust || boyf riends

three

three - the master of one fuck

It's official. I no longer give a fuck.

Why? Well, first off, somebody's been flirting with me over sticky notes. I didn't want friends in the first place, and now somebody's got a crush on me. I'm not sure how to feel about that.

It went from one sticky note in my locker a day to several of them a day, so I've gotten a ton of them in the past week. They've got space-themed jokes and pick-up lines, like promised. They make me feel special, I guess, but I really don't understand what the point is in them.

Second off, my parents are still arguing, but now it's because they don't know who's leaving yet. I really don't want either of them to leave. I don't want to be left with my mom because I don't know if I can deal with that, but my life is just going to get worse without her around.

I don't stay in the house when they argue anymore. I just go in the backyard and lay down in the grass, even if it's the middle of the night. They don't notice.

I feel like as if I just don't give a fuck, things won't get any worse. Nobody will get hurt and I won't break shit. If I have this 'fuck all of you, but also there are zero fucks given' attitude, all of my problems will just disappear.

But the problem is, I really do give a lot of fucks; so to get rid of that problem, I'm just deciding to let them go. No fucks for me.

Wow, Jeremy. That makes no sense whatsoever.

I check the time on my phone again. Lunch is almost over, so I guess I should start scarfing down my food. The Walmart sack that's holding my lunch sits next to me on the floor, completely unbothered.

It doesn't take me that long to realize that I'm not going to have enough time to eat. Whatever, I really don't feel that hungry right now anyway.

I've become very familiar with the school bathroom, or if we want to be exact, the very last and biggest stall. It's the worst place to eat lunch in this school, but it gives me enough privacy to do things-like wonder why my life is so hard.

I take the physics textbook (that I may have accidentally stolen) out of my open backpack to make room, then I shove the Walmart sack in there. I silently promise to eat the food later-a promise I know that I'm not going to fulfill. I zip up the backpack.

I pull the first note from today out of the side pocket and read it for the millionth time, lightly soaking the paper with the sweat from my super sweaty hands.

another fun fact for you: space is completely silent. oddly enough, so are you. please talk to me.

Now this person's just making me feel bad. I don't even know who's writing these. I really don't want to know either, but the suspense is killing me. I'm hoping that it isn't one of those weird kids so that I don't have to pity them entirely, but then again, anyone who's had a crush on me in the past was one of those weird kids.

I just don't get it. Who'd think that they'd want to be with me? Who would look at my stupid, ugly freckled face and think I'm going to flirt with him?

Whatever. I don't care, right? Zero fucks given, remember?

I crumple up the note and shove it back in my hoodie pocket. I should get to class. I don't need to worry about this love shit right now.

I get on my feet and grab my bag. I hold my book close to my chest; it makes me feel secure.

Finally. I'm getting the hell out of this bathroom.

After functioning on autopilot for god knows how long, I'm in physics class, headed to my seat in the front. (I sit in the front in almost all my classes. Something tells me that I have to be monitored-I have no clue why.) This class is my least favorite; it's filled with horny, popular assholes and the teacher's a prude.

Usually, I look at my shoes to avoid all eye contact with my peers, but the one time I look up, I nearly trip over a backpack laying in the aisle. I stumble forward, causing my book to slip out of my arms. It lands on the floor with a loud thud.

"Shit!" it just slips out; I regret it as soon as I say it. I feel at least twenty eyes staring at me. I glance around the room for the teacher, and luckily she's not here yet.

I lean over to grab my book, but it's gone. I hear a snicker and I look over to my side; the boy who sits next to me has it. My eyes meet his and suddenly, I can't look away.

Okay, I've never really...looked at him, but I'm glad I did. Shit, he's so pretty. Freckles look way better on him than they do on me. I like the pink hoodie he's wearing, and I find myself wanting to wear it because it's his. I want to wear his hoodies, and I want to run my hands through his blond hair, and I wish that he would-

Wait, stop. I'm thinking too much. I'm thinking way too much; he hasn't even spoken a word to me.

But holy shit, I haven't felt like this in years.

I slowly sink into my seat, still staring at him and still completely brain-dead. I'm probably shaking. He gives me a funny look; probably because I haven't looked away in about a minute and I'm still staring.

I begin to stammer, "S-Sorry. I didn't mean to cuss."

"It's okay. I don't have much of a filter either," He laughs. I feel my heart skip a few beats-no, Jeremy, get out of your head. I swallow thickly.

"Here's your book." He holds it out for me to take, so I do. Our hands touch for a second and I feel like I'm going to burst. I play it cool.

"Thanks," I say, but not loud enough for him to hear.

We stare at each other for a few moments. He's probably trying to figure out what the fuck is wrong with me, and I'm trying to find more things to like about him.

"You're the new kid," he says after a moment, and I nod. It took him three weeks to realize that, and he sits next to me in class; I can't fucking believe him. But he's cute, and those fucking dimples are really killing me, so... maybe I can.

"I'm Rich." He tells me.

"I'm Jeremy,"

A tiny part of me expects him to compliment my name or something, but he makes a face-nose scrunched up and everything; it makes me feel gross-and he says this to me instead: "I heard you weren't very friendly."

"What? No, no, I'm super friendly. I'm the friendliest." I lie. Who the fuck told him that? I haven't interacted with anyone here except for my teachers... and that one kid from math class.

The one who I completely rejected.

Fuck. That must've been who told him.

"You don't look mean." Rich agrees, which brings me relief. Well, actually, now I'm offended. I'm supposed to look mean. I haven't spent years trying to perfect my resting bitch face for no reason.

But I don't say that. I just say, "Thanks." Then I realize what I just said. Am I supposed to say thanks to that?

I don't think so, but it makes him laugh, which makes me feel weak. That smile. That fucking smile.

...

Okay, maybe I give one fuck.

And that one fuck is definitely about that Rich kid.

-

hi this sucks and it's very stupid I'm sorry

ignore any plot holes i didn't proofread and i am SO DONE with this chapter. Take it or else.