Rattlebones (bxbxb)

T is For Trauma

If I'm going to be completely honest, I make out with Eugene in a dirty janitor's closet for an indecent amount of time. 

All the educational videos that I had watched described kissing as the perfect way to get to know your significant other. There really was no better way to find out who they were than to have their tongue down your throat and be completely okay with it. 

I stand on my toes to kiss Eugene and our mouths lock, suctioned together like vacuums. I'm tasting him and his hands are on either side of my face, and we're deep into it. I feel him use his tongue to taste my lips, then the roof of my mouth, which is oddly intimate and makes me squirm a little against him.

When we finally break apart for air, we're both gasping and my cheeks are flushed. I can't take my eyes off of Eugene, because he's looking at me like he wants to rip off my clothes, and I want to do the same to him, though nothing would come of it but my own personal pleasure.

"What were you saying?" He murmurs, and then he smirks and does this thing with his thumb where he rubs the corner of my lip.

I almost cream my pants on the spot.

"Nothing!" I blurt, a flustered, hot mess incapable of walking a straight line. "Just put your bandages on. I need to get to class."

"Prude," Eugene laughs, and then he bends down to pick up his bandages from the floor.

I wondered how he could turn me into complete mush. Was it the taste of him? Knowing that I couldn't have him fully and thoroughly? Or was it something more profound than that?

I'm still deep in thought when Eugene taps me on the shoulder again, and I look up and see that he's obscured his handsome face from view again. "Ready?" He asks me, and I nod a little.

We leave the janitor's closet together and step into the mostly empty hallway. A few kids were running to make it to class before the next bell, and I watch them, feeling even more of an outsider than usual. I hadn't attended a full class in days, let alone had considered that my grades might be as dead as my will to live.

"You have science next period, right?" Eugene asks me as we walk together. "With Mr. Smith?"

"Unfortunately," I reply, and I shift my books in my arms. "I haven't stepped foot in his class since you died."

"Why? Are you scared or something?" He questions and we stop just outside of the classroom. 

"Pfft, why would I be scared?" I scoff and then peep into Mr. Smith's class through the window, my heart fluttering nervously.

 A few kids are inside, waiting for the teacher to arrive, including Eugene's old goon squad sitting towards the back. Among them should be Iggy, but I don't see him until I scan the far end of the room. There he is, sitting at one of the back desks, alone, looking lonely, or maybe bored to death. I couldn't really tell judging by his neutral expression.

"Maybe this is a bad idea." I start, and I start to turn around.

"Nope, you're not going anywhere." Eugene insists, and he reaches around me, opening the door and pushing me in.

Memories flood in all at once. 

The smell of chemicals, bleach, and old sandwich bits in the garbage is as familiar to me as my bed back at home. I would know the science room in my dreams. I would know it blind. 

I walk past the spot where Eugene had died, and I see myself holding him in my arms, his vomit on my shirt where he had puked up the poison that had eventually killed him. 

"Hey, look!" One of Eugene's goons hollers. "Dorky's back in town and he's got a boyfriend!" 

Hoots and hollers go up and an assault of spitballs come flying at me. "Are you going to kill us, like you did Eugene Wilder, McCreepy?!" They demand. "Fucking murderer!"

I try looking everywhere but at the steroid-pumped morons hollering at me from their corner, but it's almost impossible. They look like they should be holding a full-time job and starting a bar fight somewhere, not sitting in a high school classroom.

"Just forget them," Eugene tells me, but I can see the annoyance in his eyes. I know it's taking everything in him to keep from going over there and knocking every last one of his former friends out.

I look for Iggy again and find him watching Eugene and me from where he sits, one hand covering up the side of his face. He doesn't look particularly upset, but he also doesn't look that thrilled to see us. 

I go over to him and sit at the empty desk right beside him, making sure to drop my books extra loud so that they slap against the plastic.

"Jesus!" Iggy jumps a little and then he glares at me. "Could you be any louder?"

"Is that a challenge?" I retort, keeping my voice as level as possible. There was no need for him to know how twisted he made my heart feel when I saw him.

"Just like in the old days, right, boys?" Eugene sighs, and then he takes a seat beside me and crosses his arms behind his head. "Let's see what old Mr. Smith wants to shove down our throats today."

The classroom door opens and everybody goes quiet, even Eugene's old friends. Everybody seems to be holding their breaths, and I remember the feeling of waiting for our teacher to show up. On Mr. Smith's good days he wore a yellow, tweed blazer. On his bad days, he dressed in a white dress shirt and slacks, as if he had just rolled out of bed after a long bender. 

But it's not Mr. Smith at all who steps in through the door.

A flash of blonde hair and heels come clicking in, and my stomach drops.

"Why hello, class!" Eugene's Step-Mother trills.