self-confidence . || usuk

One/

Arthur Kirkland stared at himself in the bathroom mirror. His shaky breath made it fog up. Looking at himself made his stomach churn. There was nothing more in the world that Arthur hated more.

The only thing he hated was himself.

His vision started to blur. Don't cry.

His breath hitched in his throat. Don't. Cry.

His shoulders shook, giving out. He nearly collapsed into the sink. Goddammit, Kirkland, you worthless human being, do something good for once and don't let yourself become weak!—

A door opens. Bugger. Arthur straightened up. He looked into the mirror beside him to see who had come in. A jock. Blond hair. Blue eyes. American. Cowlick. He had seen him before. The school's prized player; perfect; amazing; admired. Everything Arthur wasn't. He quickly looked away, hoping he hadn't seen him.

The jock boy had come in louder than usual. He was talking to his friends before. His friends: stupid; putrid; Arthur could care less about them. They were talking about a game — sports, perhaps. Arthur wasn't very good at sports. Or anything at all, really. Arthur was about to take his leave when

"Yikes!," The jock jumped back at the sight of him. "You okay, dude? You look like you saw a ghost, but 10 times as worse."

"I'm fine.," Arthur mumbled. "Completely fine."

The jock shook his head. "Doesn't look like it. You know, if it was a ghost, I'd be hella shook, too. I hate ghosts. Freak me the hell out, 'ya know?"

Arthur didn't bother with a reply. He stood there, quietly. He wanted to leave, to go home where no one can bother him, where it was only him, basking in the sound of silence.

"Is there something you need to talk about, dude? We got counselors for a reason."

"There are some things I simply cannot talk to counselors about."

"Damn.," the jock crookedly smiled. "Edgy. You can talk to me, though. How about over a slushie? Yeah, c'mon, let's go."

The jock took Arthur by the hand, tugging him along. Arthur was taken aback by this sudden idea, and stopped them before they could get the door.

"Why?," Arthur looked up at the jock, who was itching to leave. "I don't even know you. And God forbid you'd want to know me... So why?"

The jock shrugged, smiling widely. "Why not? Making new friends is cool. And how could you not know me? I'm like a god at this school."

Though that was true, Arthur wanted to make a point. "I don't know the real you.," he replied, trying to straighten up. "I would like to know the you behind the championships and popularity."

"Jeez, are you always going to be this deep? Fine. I'll give you a different side of me... If you tell me what's up. Do we have a deal... uhh..."

"Arthur Kirkland."

"Cool, I'm Alfred F. Jones – Do we have a deal, Arthur Kirkland?"

Arthur thought about the 'deal' that had been offered to him. It could have been a win/win situation – for Alfred it would have been at least. For Arthur, it was win/lose. But, after this, he could never see Alfred again; never speak of him; never hear of him; see no evil, speak no evil, hear no evil. So it was settled.

"Yes.," Arthur slightly nodded. "We indeed have a deal."

*

me: *pours all me feelings into a depressing fic*

me: im okay though