To Complicated For You [BoyxBoy]

WARNING. THIS STORY MIGHT NOT BE APPROPRIATE FOR YOUNG AUDIENCES. THE AUTHOR CAUTIONS ANYONE UNACCUSTIOMED TO CUSS WORDS AND BOYXBOY.

Hi.

I'm League. League Walker.

My parents decided that because of how horrendously normal my last name is to give me a weird first name. I much would've much preferred to be Chris or Cole or Derrick or John or – no. Not Bob.

But, you get the point.

I'm 15 years old, and enrolling as a freshman at an all boys prepland highschool. I got held back in fifth grade, before you ask, and today is the first day of school.

**

I curse mentally as I hold up the tuck-shirt uniform I'm supposed to wear. It looks like something off of some T.V show, with all the preps and happy people.

I sigh again, to lazy to pout any more, and slip off my boxers. I'll go commando today, just to rebel somehow. I'm pretty sure underwear are a requirement, but no one would check, anyway.

I slip up the knot on the green tie and look at myself in the mirror. These clothes go against everything I stand for.

My greenish-yellowish-bluish eyes glint as I wipe on a little bit of black eyeliner in the outside corner of each eye, and tease black and red hair till it's poofy enough to satisfy in the back.

“League, baby, the bus is here!” My mom yells from down the stairs.

Fuck, already?

“Kay. Be right there.” I slip on the dress-code fancy shoes I'm required to wear and run down the stairs.

“Don't forget your lunch, hun! I made you Twinkies.”

Something you have to know about my parents is that they are... very strange. Hippy rock stars is probably the best way to explain them. And, technically, they're a little insane. They met at a Rocky Horror Picture Show cosplay contest. (My dad, of course, was the Transylvanian transvestite)

“Thanks, Mom.” I say, as she slips over my head a leather necklace with a pouch at the end and tucks a Twinkie into my pocket. That pouch would be containing my dead brother's ashes.

I tuck the necklace under my shirt. She always took them at night, I always took them in the day.

“I'll be back at 2:40.”

I grab my little messenger bag – another requirement, embedded with the school's symbol on the front flap – and exit my house.

Luckily, my house is right in front of the bus stop, so I made it in time to catch the doors before they closed.

“Sorry.” I said to the bus driver. She nodded and refused to meet my eyes.

I stood at the front of the bus and looked around me, playing with my tongue ring. All the kids looked the same to me. Same clothes, bag, facial expression.

They stared at me as I walked past, eying an empty seat. I knew what they were thinking; something along the lines of, “Boy! He's so hot!”

I smirked to myself inwardly.

**

Walking through the huge, metal doors was a mental test in itself. It took all my strength and g will to not book my ass out of there.

I look at the policemen on either side of the doors. I was clean, so if they stopped me...

I began to walk. The doors, I realized, once on the other side, were three inches wide of metal.