The Delivery Boy(boyxboy)

Chapter 1: Condoms and Connections.

All around me are familiar faces,
Worn out places, worn out faces
Bright and early for their daily races
Going nowhere, going nowhere

Their tears are filling up their glasses
No expression, no expression
Hide my head, I wanna drown my sorrow
No tomorrow, no tomorrow

And I find it kinda funny
I find it kinda sad
The dreams in which I'm dying
Are the best I've ever had
I find it hard to tell you
I find it hard to take
When people run in circles
It's a very, very mad world, mad world

-

Axel

"What do you think her story is?" Brooke asked, placing two fingers on the bridge of her crooked nose, deep in thought. I slammed my locker shut and looked in the direction she was pointing to, my eyes sweeping over the girl's clean features.

"Nothing special. She's pretty. She's thin. She's a cheerleader. She has a boyfriend who will appear in two seconds and act all protective of her if he catches us looking at her. Typical." I shrugged and leaned against my locker, and tried my best to not think, because my brain felt like it was going to explode.

"Don't you think there's anything more to people than that?" Her voice sounded hopeful, and then it sounded sad. "Don't you wonder what universes people hide within themselves?" She pushed her books against her chest and leaned against me, our shoulders brushing.

"I do." I replied honestly. "Everybody has thousands of universes hidden inside them, correct. Is it fun to peek sometimes? Hell yes. Is it fun to become part of their universe? No. Not everyone is interesting, Brooke. Some people don't have heart wrenching pasts and mysteries behind their eyes. They're just ordinary. Like us. All of us think we're something special, but we're all just people trying to find a place in this world."

"You're being extra deep today." She noted, a playful undertone in her voice. "Is it the rain?"

I nudged her shoulder, and she grimaced, making me smile in return. Then her eyes swept over to the same girl, and she was lost in her in own thoughts, once again.

For a moment, I looked at the girl too. She seemed to be happy, but then again, people were oceans. They could never be judged by their surfaces. She had a couple of people surrounding her and she was talking animatedly with them, laughing, smiling, and being loud and cheery. And just for a moment, an unnoticeable second, I felt the sadness and anger envelop my being, before it was gone.

I had met Brooke on the second day of freshmen year, when I had fallen over and dropped my books on the floor. Brooke had been standing close to me, but instead of noticing my presence, or helping me pick up my things, she had continued to look ahead; her eyes fiercely trained on a certain someone, her head tilted, her eyes squinted. I had followed her gaze and noticed she had been looking at a boy, the one who wore the colorful wristbands and had nail polish on, and for a moment I had wondered about him too; who he was, where he came from, who he missed, and what he was sorry for. Then just as quickly I had gathered my books and left, but not before catching the slight hint of a smile on her freckled face, as if she was telling me that she understood.

We had become friends after that, occasionally sitting together during lunch, talking about our Biology tests, listening to each others favorite bands. We had become friends, but in reality, we weren't friends at all. We both knew that. We both knew that we were just some misfits who had been born in the wrong bodies and handed the wrong life, and we could do absolutely nothing about it. It was almost ridiculous; we didn't even fit in with the misfits. We didn't fit in anywhere.