Short stories for my favorite ship.
Just a warning, most of these will be sad. Some might deal with suicidal thoughts and tendencies. You've been warned.
I sat down on the ground of a ditch across from my highschool, smoking a cigarette. I looked over to see a boy pacing back and forth. He wore a black shirt, a black, leather jacket, and black skinny jeans. He looked up from the ground and noticed me. He walked towards me.
"Smoking kills." He said, sitting down next to me. He pulled out a joint from his pocket. "Well, cigarettes do, at least."
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I chuckled, looking over at him. "Are you skipping school to pace in ditches and smoke weed? You're a bad boy, aren't ya?" He laughed and took a hit. "You could say that. And what about you? Why are you out here, Mr. Perfect?" I groaned. "Oh come on! Nobody's called me that since like 8th grade. How do you even know about that nickname?" He scoffed. "How can I not? You're Lucas Friar! Hunk of the school since like 7th grade." I laughed. "And who are you? One of my groupies."
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I noticed his face go red and he looked away from me. "Shut up." He chuckled. I laughed. "But seriously, who are you? Yaknow what's your name?" The looked me up and down. "Well I'm not telling you that." He bit his lip and turned back towards me. We stared at each other for a while. I looked down at his lips, then up at his eyes. They were blue. Handsome, blue eyes. I bit my lip and then leaned in for kiss.
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He pulled away, smiling. "I should really get going." He got up and turned to walk away. "Wait! I didn't get your name!" He looked back at me and smiled then tipped an imaginary hat. "Cya, Cowboy." The boy ran off.
I never really saw him after that day. He seemed to avoid me for the worst part. I still don't know his name. I just know him as The Boy With The Handsome Blue Eyes.
