Fucking emo

The fucking Wedgie

As I stared at my blurry reflection through the steam, I concentrated on taking deep breaths to calm myself. I repeated to myself, "I am okay." However, the emo kid was not.

I heard him squirming somewhere behind me. I made sure the towel around my waist was firmly tucked in. The other guys were patting each other on their bare backs and even patted me on their way out of the showers. Did they mistake me for one of them?

I realized that I could easily be one of them if I chose to, but I couldn't... not with him around.  I hated what the boy was doing to me. I forced a smile at the last of them to leave the showers and listened to the sound of the open water as the room emptied out, leaving only the sound of the emo kid squirming.

I took one last look at my reflection, assuring myself that I was still myself. I decided to go back and see him again. He was still hanging there, almost naked except for the white soaked underwear stretched over the back of his body and covering his face. There was no dignity in that.

He was drowning under the deluge of water, his nose and mouth pressed hard against the drenched fabric. His arms, severely wrist-cut, were flailing, searching for something to hold on to, but there was nothing.

He was painfully thin, I had noticed his twig-like legs when encased in skinny jeans and the undersized t-shirts that revealed glimpses of his waist. But now, seeing him in only his underwear made it clear how young he looked, despite being close to my own age. I could see his rib cage and muscles tense as he struggled to breathe.

I approached him, asking mockingly, "Do you need help?" My own tone irritated me, and I became angrier in his presence.

"I got you your clothes," I said, intending to bring them to him. But my anger only grew.

He continued to squirm as I threw his clothes on the floor in front of him, immediately soaking them. No answer from him. I stormed off to the lockers, realizing that the other guys had already left. How long had I been staring at him?

After changing, I opened his locker and retrieved all his belongings. When I returned to the showers, he was still hanging there, frozen as I entered. I tossed his backpack with the rest of his soaked clothes.

"You could ask for help, you know," I said, trying to sound sincere. But I realized I couldn't be.

He ignored me and continued to gasp for air and swallow water. Let him enjoy his wedgie and drown in the shower, I thought, storming off and warning him, "Next time you don't answer when I talk to you, it's gonna be hell."

☆