Who could love you? Blake thought to himself. When all you do is mess everything up. Literally everything. Those words had been playing on repeat in his brain and it was only now he was realising they were true. Who could love him? All he did do was mess things up. And not for the better. But who could mess things up for the better? Certainly not him, that's for sure. He walked through the looming hallways, his head lowered and body slouched. His vision had been kept on his shoes the whole time he had been walking about. And you're fool to think anyone actually likes you. Do you seriously think that?
"Stop it," the brunette whispered, "stop it now,"
But why should I stop when you know I'm not lying to you? You know it's true, Blake. No one has the nerve to like you. I mean, it's you. And with every thought Blake kept falling down this bottomless pit of depression and 'no one cares'. Even though Blake tried to deny his thoughts, he only became prisoner to them, finding absolutely no way of falling out of them. Suddenly, his thoughts filled with many people - more monster like than human cloaked in black or Moss green clothing - circling him shouting and chanting insults and abuse.
Gay.
Too skinny.
Over-thinker. ((Definitely me))
Faggot.
Weird.
Man-whore.
"Shut up!"
"Mate, we only came to say hi," defended the eldest. George remained silent. "Oh sorry, mate," replied the stressed brunette, removing his hands from his hair. George watched the brunette walk through the door to his next class and he followed after him. The blonde took his normal seat at the back and pulled the hood of his pitch black hoodie over his head. He doodled a few pictures in his book while his train of thoughts, that should have been focused on the teacher, focused on Blake. George knew he shouldn't be thinking about him, but he just couldn't help it. He worries about him. About how Blake's schizophrenia can make him feel so alone and most people are so afraid of him. But George found it intriguing. Different.
Without even realising, he was sketching the boy's name into his notebook in big block letters. He continued doing it until the teacher was looking over his shoulder. He quickly hid the page, his cheeks painting themselves a light scarlet colour.
"Mr. Smith, I don't believe that is appropriate to have in your book. I would like to see you after class," said Mrs. McVeigh, while the class looked over their shoulders to see what she was on about ((nosey fuckers)).
-
"Mr. Smith, why weren't you paying attention in class?" The female asked in a patronising tone.
"Miss, I'm sorry. I-I was just- I didn't mean to wonder off,"
"And why were you writing Blake's name in your notebook?"She asked, making him feel interrogated once again.
"I-um-I,"
"Mr. Smith, I'm going to ask you this once more, why were you writing Blake's name in your book?"
"Because I love him, alright? I fucking love him. Is it illegal to love someone? Is it illegal to spend every waking day, hour and minute thinking about someone and knowing that you would do anything and everything for them to make them feel better? Is it illegal to want to snap your fingers and make everything okay? Because if so, fucking arrest me! Fucking do it now," he screamed, letting all his hidden emotions out in one short speech. He lifted his bag that was resting on the table beside him. "Bye miss,"
When he turned round, he saw the tall male he loved. He dropped his bag and rushed to the boy, smashing his rough lips on to the brunette's soft ones. Eventually, Blake started kissing him back and it felt like it was just them two in the room. They didn't care at that moment in time that they would be expelled, they just cared about themselves.
《~》
Sorry for neglecting this book for like 2 weeks. I had my phone taken from me so yeah. But I have it back now so I've finished this and I'm trying hard.
Anyways, I hope you like this. Please vote/comment/share and I hope you enjoy. Love you all 💜💜
