---Firkle's pov---
"It could be worse..." Ike said putting a hand on my shoulder.
"Really? It could be worse?" I ask glancing over at him.
He stares at me, "What do you think could possibly be worse?" I ask him.
He stares at me still, "Uh... I'm not sure, but there has to be something worse."
I nodded. That's really helpful.
I stared at the ground, then let my legs stretch out in front of me.
I stared down at the ugly neon shirt.
You know what? Fuck this shirt.
I instantly started stripping off the shirt, there's no fucking way I'm going to wear this.
"Dude! What are you doing?! Put your shirt back on!" Ike shouts putting his hands over his reddening face.
This isn't my fucking shirt.
I throw the stupid shirt onto the ground and glare at it.
Then I cross my arms over my chest and stare victoriously down at the shirt.
Then, I sit down next to Ike again and pull my legs back up to my chest.
"A-Are you planning on staying like that the rest of the day...?" Ike asks, his hands no longer over his eyes, but he's looking away from me.
I shrug.
YOU ARE READING
Forgotten
FanfictionI smile at him. I know he doesn't talk much, but maybe we can be friends. "Hey dude," I say smiling at him. He glances over at me and walks away. (IkeXFirkle.)
