Fucking emo

Fucking lost

I was lost.

After he came back to school, things had become brutal. Somehow, just being singled out in the news for "witnessing" had made everyone think he was to blame. No one tried to put any logic to it, but the fact remained that he was hated even more.

Days and weeks passed, and he became a hobby for me. At first, I was merely a spectator, then became an instigator, and now, I was a perpetrator.

But we still met at our house, the vacant house. Usually, he was in a pathetic, sorry state from whatever he had endured, and he wouldn't talk much. It was awkward, and it fueled me with anger for the next day. I had even taken the habit of stealing his phone and just going through it. But there were no contacts, conversations, or calls. Only pictures and comment notifications.

It wasn't long till I realized he had control over me, though. He could ask me to stop, and I would; he could ask for help, and I would; he could ask me for company, and I would; he could even ask me to join him in getting beaten up, and I would. I would never tell him of that power, though. Part of me knew that even if I did, it wouldn't matter because he would never ask for any of it.

Our roles were set, and I hated him for it.

That day, however, we were throwing rocks at the house. We had started smashing the windows a couple of days before, or what was left of them. The one on the attic had proven to be hard to actually break.

He was shirtless, and his jeans didn't hold up around his waist as usual. I had stolen his shirt before leaving school and shoved it inside a urinal. Everyone had used that urinal, so the shirt remained there.

Finally, I hit the window. I jumped in a celebratory jolt, and I saw him smile. I smiled back at him. I thought he loved me. I thought he liked to be treated like this.

"I think we should get inside," I said, not really in the mood. It had become a thing; we would go inside to die. It had become sort of an inside joke.

"Tomorrow," he said. That was strangely commanding of him. "Today, another thing is happening."

"Where?" I asked, trying to mask how much I had actually been expecting this.

How did he know about it? Probably some random corner of the web. They were all planning it, and he just stumbled into it and decided to check on them.

I had ruminated about him so much I had come to the unconscious conclusion that he had a power, maybe a superpower. But what a lame power it was, knowing when people are going to do themselves in.

"Want to see?" he asked. His tone was seductive for some reason. Did he get off it?

I could ask, but if I thought he didn't, it would be easier to hate him later.

We ended up walking a long way to the middle of town. There were some buildings around that area, built ages ago, dozens of them, all crummy apartments that looked the same.

We were lucky one of the residents was leaving, and he held the door open for us.

We climbed the stair to the rod and then climbed it even higher to the water tanks. We could get a beautiful look at the town. The sun was setting. My mom would be furious; I had skipped piano again.

It was his fault.

We could see the other neighboring roofs clearly, and quickly, I noticed that was the plan.

He told me where to sit on a ledge, and he sat really close to me. Part of the view was obstructed by some steel supporting beams, but I didn't bother avoiding them. the obstruction made me feel safe.

He put his hand on my thigh. He was looking attentively at the roof of the building next to us. I followed his eyes and sure enough, a couple was there.

☆