Convenient Misunderstandings. (boyxboy)

1) Everybody hates Mondays.

Friday. God bless that beautiful day, which marks the ending of the week and the start of the weekend. The beginning of the end. No matter how much homework they give you, you can do it in Sunday. No matter how much reading you have to do, you can procrastinate until Monday.

Everything is good when it’s Friday. God bless that beautiful day.

Yawning in my hand, I sighed as I looked at the white board behind the teacher. We had an essay to write, which was, surprisingly enough, interesting. The topic was “Foreign people”, supposedly invoking deep philosophical questions inside, as well as some memories from past encounters with said foreigners. Usually, our work was connected with some kind of  visual art, be it drawing, photographing or designing, but the teacher had told us to “draw with words” this time, try something new. Complete and utter bullshit.

I looked at my blank paper sheets, scratching the back of my head with my pen in annoyance. What was I supposed to write? Foreign people were .. well, foreign. They have different traditions, different sign and body language. Different cultures .. basically, you can’t understand them if they don’t understand you first. Or .. the other way around. Ugh, I don’t know!

I tousled my messy, brown hair in frustration and closed my eyes, deciding to take a nap instead. No need to worry about something if you can’t do anything about it. At least, this is what my grandfather always told me, and honestly, I think he’s right.

Feeling my head light, I realized I was starting to doze off. It seemed to me that there was nothing better to do in class now, so I decided to give in to the feeling and fall asleep on the desk, forehead on my stretched-out hand. My breathing quickly softened and slowed down, as my mind was slipping away. If I had to choose the most pleasurable and confusing feelings in the world, one of them would be the “drifting off” to sleep. It felt so harmless and innocent, yet fast that it made me wonder if this was how one felt when death was coming and you heart was leaving its last pulsing echoes in your blood before it ceased to function. If this was, indeed, how death felt .. then I had no fears of meeting it, no matter the time.

Smiling slightly, I lost consciousness and entered the dream world. I never really dreamt of anything particular, or if I did, I easily forgot it. But every now and then, there were some unpleasant dreams which I wish I could forget, yet I couldn’t.

I opened my eyes in the classroom, blinking in surprise. Everyone was at the exact same spot, still writing their essays. I looked around to see the teacher, who was sitting behind his desk, minding his own business, as always. He never really seemed to care about his students, which both relieved and amused me. He wasn’t from those overly-protective teachers who would go insane if you fall on your ass or something, yelling in your face that he was going to be held responsible if you break a bone or injure yourself. I don’t believe in this “protection”, since it was more than obvious that the teacher was thinking about himself above everything else. It’s not like he was worried about the kid, possibly because he had enough problems on his own, but shouting such insensitive shit when someone hurts himself is more than egoistic. I hate teachers like that.

I once told my mother about this, and she replied with “Well, maybe he can’t talk so easily about his feelings.”, which is also an option, but .. not for me, it ain’t. I don’t give a damn if you have difficulties talking about your sweet emotions or not, if you act like an asshole, I’ll do the same. I view myself as a psychological mirror sometimes – reflecting people’s moods, personalities and way of acting whenever they entered my personal-space bubble. You could called it a self-defense mechanism ..

My mother is a lawyer, and I’ve got my strong sense of justice from her. My motto is “Treat people the way they treat you.”, which means, if a person is kind with me, be it a homeless pedophile or a prostitute, I will be kind to him as well, and vice versa – if someone is being bitchy with me, I’ll become twice the bitch for him.

The way I act, on the other hand, is a whole different matter .. I do try to follow my motto’s rule, but like every other person on Earth, I make mistakes, one of them being the fact that I treat people the way I see them, not the way they actually are. But you can’t expect me to analyze every single person before I speak to them, do you? That would be too hard, too much of a trouble and too boring. Like Mathematics.

“Devin.” Someone said my name, to which I replied by lifting my sight up. Before me was standing a beautiful, thin man with gorgeous, black hair and the most beautiful, deep color of ink-blue. He was looking at me with anger, as if I’ve done something wrong, and I frowned.

“What is it, Dark?” I sighed, crossing my arms in front of my chest. I did NOT wish to speak to him, even if it was just a dream. My hazel eyes were looking at him in disgust, as I couldn’t wait to wake up. If that didn’t happen soon, I would pinch the fuck out of myself.

“Don’t frown, you’ll get premature wrinkles.” The black haired boy commented, to which I laughed mockingly.

“Whatever ..” It’s not like I wasn’t going to get any if he keeps nagging me. Looking away in bitterness, I gnawed on my inner cheek, trying to keep my temper cool, when I felt a sudden breeze and heard shuffling of clothes dangerously close to me. I quickly turned my head forward, right in time to accidentally place my lips onto the ones before me, which softly kissed mine in a chaste manner. My heartbeat suddenly accelerated as my breathing became heavy and disordered. My pale cheeks filled with warmth, as I tried to push the intruder away, who was now caressing my lower lip with his ticklish, wet tongue. It emitted a weird hotness which made my head dizzy and my knees limp, and I had forgotten how much I missed that feeling ..

God, why did you have to be such a bastard, Dark?

I finally regained enough strength to slap his face, waking up from the loud clapping noise it produced. Turns out it was not my hand colliding with the boy’s cheek, but rather the teacher’s hands clashing one into another, in order to produce a sound, loud enough to catch everyone’s attention. He seemed to have something interesting to say, and I was “burning” to hear every single bit of it. Dear Lord, I am all ears.

“Now, then, since I finally have your eyes on me, I can continue. Today is Friday, and because of that, I will give you some material to study from page 267-279 during the weekend, because it’s the end of the year and I need grades, for God’s sake. You’ll also be having a few tests next week, so I don’t want anyone getting sick, dismissed, dead or high during that last half of December, because I will get some of you expelled, and I won’t regret it one bit.” Everyone scowled and began complaining, but the noises were soon shushed, again, by the teacher.

I lifted my eyebrow in sarcastic surprise. Oh, there was more?

“One more thing before you leave, we’ll be having a transfer student on Monday. He’ll be very tired and possibly jet-lagged, so if you have mercy, do greet him with a smile, at least. We have to make a good first impression to raise his hopes for the holidays.” The teacher nodded, believing in himself. So the new kid was going to travel by plane? Was he that far away from Japan, I mused.

“Yeah, and then crush them right after New Year.” A boy from our class called out, getting his friends cheering for his smart-assed comment. I sighed just as the school bell rang and got up from my seat to put my things back in my backpack. Don't get me wrong, I was happy that the school day was finally over, but the frown on my face just didn’t want to disappear.

And how could it, when I already had an after-taste in my mouth from the horrible Monday that was about to come?