Hate to Love You [Ryden]

I Don't Wanna Be Your Friend

Ryan's Point of View *

I don't want to go to school. I don't want to be picked on for wearing eyeliner, again. And I sure as hell don't want to see Brendon.

That asshole always has a sarcastic, smart ass remark for everything I say.

And the worst part is, he is in every one of my classes. All five.

Thankfully, though, we don't sit next to each other, except for U.S. Government.

Mrs. Orzol didn't assign seats to anyone, she let us pick where we wanted to sit and whatever we ended up with became our assigned seats. And wouldn't you know, the only desks left open were right next to each other and I got stuck with Brendon as my neighbor. It's not too bad as long as he's not singing to himself, making it extremely hard for me to focus on my work. The best days are when he's quiet. Not one word from his mouth. But that rarely happens. Only when he's having a bad day or he's not in school.

Welp, time to get ready for hell.

Showered, clothed, and ready to go.

I slip into the drivers seat of my black Chevy Tahoe that my grandmother gave to me a year ago before she passed away.

On the way to school, which is only a ten minute drive, I saw Brendon walking with books in his hand and earbuds in his ears. He looked a little too happy, so that meant I was going to be annoyed all day. Awesome. I sighed and rolled my eyes, passing Brendon on the street.

I pulled into the almost filled student parking lot and quickly got out of my car, heading to the building that I'll be in for the next seven hours.

I didn't really talk to anyone. Most of the time I was by myself, which I didn't mind at all.

This boy I've known since elementary school, Spencer, always tried getting me to hangout with him and his friends but I denied his many attempts just because Brendon was apart of Spencer's group of friends and I was not getting myself mixed up with him.

You're probably wondering why Brendon and I don't get along.

Let me tell you.

Freshman year, we had gym together. It was our last hour of the day. I kept my school books and notebooks in my gym locker during the class, and one day I forgot to close my lock. Someone, Gerard Way, decided it was okay to go through my things and found a note that I wrote to Brendon.

They were all standing in a little circle in the gym, laughing and looking back at me. I was sitting on the bleachers listening to music.

The note I wrote to Brendon, that I was probably never even going to give him in the first place, said that I thought he was really cute and I had a crush on him. And a few others things, but that's not important. I guess Brendon got offended by it, and he came up to me with the now crinkled paper in his hand. He yelled at me, said he wasn't into guys and I'm a freak. He balled up the paper and threw it at me before he called me a faggot and walked away to be with his friends.

He, along with Gerard and the others, embarrassed me. I ran out of the gym to the locker room and grabbed my things which were on the floor. I didn't bother to change into my jeans, I just took off running out of the school and going home. Since that day, I've hated Brendon with everything I have in me. But I've heard rumors that he was hooking up with a guy that he met at a football party Junior year. Not sure if it's true or not, and frankly, I don't fucking care.

The hallways were full of noise from the immature freshman that just got to ninth grade two months ago. You could tell the freshman from the sophmores, the sophmores from the juniors, and the juniors from the seniors. I, thank God, am a senior.