Hallway Boy

Meet the Beetle

I fucking hate this. I fucking hate everyone. Every day is as shitty as it could be, yet somehow, today is even shittier. If you didn't already know, you learn a lot when your the kid that nobody talks to but everyone talks about. I'm always listening, to each and every conversation that surrounds me in the halls. Today, everyone is talking about the new guy, Damien. Apparently he's a child prodigy born from a stupid rich family, and he transferred to the U.S from Japan for his mother's job. He also just happens to be the man that tumbled me and all of my belongings to the ground this morning, completely humiliating me. Everyone knows about the little incident this morning, it's spreading like wildfire. 'Renaldo bumped into Damien and tried to kiss him when they were on the ground!', Renaldo moaned when Damien accidentally fell on him!', Renaldo is in love with Damien!'
I didn't even fucking do anything! They're all obsessed with pinning impossible scenarios on me just to make me look like some perverted fag. Are they far off? Not really. Yet still, nobody has ever actually seen me do anything questionable. Everything that anybody knows about me is fully based off rumors. Damien completely knocked me down, not the other way around! He's the one that, for whatever reason, came way too close to my face (hence the kiss rumor). Also, it's not my fault that man has something sharp in his pocket! Whatever it was, it fractured the thin skin on my right thigh. Anyone would groan to that kind of pain, whether it be hurtful or pleasurable. Who the fuck would come to school with something that sharp on them anyways? Do I even want to know what he was carrying around or why? It doesn't matter. Their judgements about me burn more when what they say about me is false.
Once word about this reaches Damien, he'll probably be disgusted by me. He'll most likely join the other jocks in their favorite game; beat the beetle. In this game, they play the heroes that protect the world from unpleasant bugs, and I play the beetle. How unfortunate for me. It's a silly game with no real purpose but to torment me, but to be fair, we invented the game in early elementary school. It's started with abusing and taking apart the body parts of actual insects. Insects don't cry though. That's when they turned to the outcast. Me. The beetle. Their new little play-thing that doesn't get a choice.
Now that I think about it though, that guy Damien was definitely my type. Besides his rude un-remorseful personality, his features were unbelievably attractive. Damien's skin glows under his dark floppy hair which was held by a messy undercut. This man clearly doesn't get his hair done often, yet he still makes it work. He has thick and aggressive eyebrows to contradict his soft spoken eyes. His body though, that was no joke. I don't even have any evidence of him playing a sport but his built muscles bring me to the conclusion that he is indeed a jock. We may have only made eye contact for a split second but even a second is enough for me to analyze a persons whole life story. I pay attention. I could make a pretty decent guess what your thinking about me, and this is only because nobody talks to me. Hence why I need to read everyone's minds. But Damien was more difficult to look through. He's the kind of person who could have multiple personalities hiding under his skin, just to manipulate people with any mask he feels like presenting to people. Then again, I could be completely off with my guesses, considering their all based off of my one encounter with him and everything everyone else says about him. I, of all people, should know how false rumors can be. Some bright features on his face give his whole ordeal away however, rumored or not. He bared a sharp jawline and a piercing expression in his eyes. Like he knew every one of my thoughts; his eyes told me he was in charge. His lips looked as though they could bite at any given moment. His face altogether though, for some unrevealed reason, was far harder to read than any other guy I've encountered. What are you thinking Damien Nakamura? Why did you study my face so intensely when my mask ripped off? What mysterious, sharp object are you hiding in your pockets? Most importantly,

Why do I want to know more about you?