nevermore | pete x reader

[7] the talent show

My body trembled at the question.

"Do you like me?" He asks curiously.

I stood there, frozen stiff. As much as I wanted to say something, anything. Nothing would exit my mouth. 

What kind of question was that? Why did he want to know so badly? 

But then, something pushed all of my additional thoughts aside.

Do I like him?

Instead of giving a direct answer, I shake my head slowly. "Y-Yes?" I say, a sweat drop rolling down my face. "We're friends right?"

Pete releases his grip from my shoulders. "Friends?"

"Well, yeah." I respond. "Are goths allowed to make friends?" 

He shrugs. "I guess."

We continued walking, remaining silent. Pete didn't seem to happy, for some reason. I didn't want to question it, but hopefully it wasn't because I asked him to be friends. Maybe it was kind of conformist of me.

We walked until I could see my house in the distance. 

I walk up the steps of my porch. "Um- See you next week." I say, not bothering to look back at him.

I didn't hear Pete respond.

-

As I enter my house, I realize that nobody was home except for me. Once more, my dad was nowhere to be found.

Stepping into my room, I let out a large sigh. What was I supposed to do for the next 2 days? 

Pete was acting really strange today, but I hope that he'll feel a lot better when we perform at the talent show.

All I can do now, is hope.

-

2 days pass, and I have been doing nothing other than staring at my wall and dissociating. I didn't even realize it was Monday morning, until the school alarm on my phone rang.

"Shit." I mutter, stumbling out of bed, knowing damn well that I didn't obtain any sleep. 

Today was the day of the talent show. 

I made sure to wear something extremely Gothic. I scrapped a tight lace top with holes layered over a black tank top, dark jeans, platform shoes, and a pair of fishnet gloves. I even made sure to apply eyeliner. 

I looked in the mirror, scanning my outfit. It seemed appealing enough.

I layer on a light leather black jacket and carry my backpack before I left my residence.

Walking to the bus stop, I notice the 4 boys that don't acknowledge my existence. They seemed to not be discussing anything.

Suddenly, without warning, the chubby boy turns around to face me. "Oh my God, guys, look, it's one of those goth creeps." He rolls his eyes, snickering to himself.

The remainder of the boys just stare at me, without any expression written on their faces.

"Dude, chill." Says the boy with the blue hat. 

"Yeah Cartman, just leave them alone." Comments the boy with the green hat.

The boy with the orange parka had probably stated something too, but it wasn't audible enough to hear. All I heard was quiet muffles.

I remain silent, lowering my gaze to the ground. I was pretty surprised that 3/4 of these boys had at least some form of common sense.

The so-called 'Cartman' sighs, placing a hand on the boy with the blue hat's shoulder. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Stan!" He exclaims, with an obvious sarcastic tone. "I'm sorry for offending your culture, please, I'll never do it again! Take off your pants so I can lick your balls, Stan!" He begs.