BoyFriend

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Mark's head began to fall backward tiredly, resulting in his head smacking the wall behind him. Guiltily, he had to admit he started dozing off at Amy's rambling.

"So, I just can't figure out what guys like!" Amy groaned, sighing and holding her face in her hands. "Mark? You're a guy. What do guys like?"

"I'm also a gay guy, who happens to have the most girlish boyfriend ever. I'm a romantic, but different guys like different things. Different strokes for different folks. How the fuck am I supposed to know?"

"Because you are a guy."

Mark shrugged, waiting desperately for the bus to roll in. He was so anxious to get back home, he was literally bouncing on his feet. "Uh... Well, guys like people who are honest. Not gonna lie, I'm totally attracted to truth tellers and those who are actually loyal." He snorted, hands jamming into his pockets. "Don't like fake either. If you're wearing stuff to make you look more prissy, like a shit ton of make up, or stuff to show too much cleavage. At least, a decent fella would feel that way."

Amy nodded. "Oh..." She then furrowed her eyebrows, sheepishly smiling at him. "You're a decent guy."

"Well," Mark grabbed his overloaded bag and slung it over his shoulders. "It's been nice talking, but I've to go. I've got a sickly little guy to take care of. See ya, Ams."

Amy grinned, Mark ignoring the absolute jealousy that glowed on her face. Whether it was over the fact she was jealous of his relationship or he was in one, Mark couldn't tell but he knew it was one or the other. "See you, Marky!"

Mark nodded at her before boarding the bus, silently thanking whatever God there was that he'd finally gotten out of there. Signe was so much easier to talk to. She wasn't all serious and would crack jokes and grin. Signe respected his personal space too...

Louis slid into the seat with him, purring, "Hey good lookin'," she wiggled her eyebrows, earning a scoff from the boy. "I wish I deserved that name."

She opened her math book, pointing to the set of sixty nine problems. "I need help."

"On?"

"All of them."

"Dude, come on..." Mark frowned, whining, "I've already gotta do mine and Jack's! Ask Paisley or something. She's the nerd."

Louis's jaw dropped. "What? You're gonna do his but not mine? Rip off of a friend!" She then closed it, shrugging. "Fine I'll ask her. But you're still a better source. You've a higher grade average than her in Algebra. She gets fuckin' lit over it sometimes."

"I do?"

"Yeah! She's a 98.89% overall. You've a straight one hundred dude!"

Mark flustered with embarrassment. He was meant to fail. Not be successful. It's what he was always told. Why the fuck did he have to be cursed with being smarter than the smartest kid?

"It's nothing special. There's plenty of kids in my class who are smarter."

"You've nearly a higher average than everyone in every class. If you would actually show up more, you'd be an absolute blessing of a student. The teachers would love you."

No. No. Teachers hated him. Thomas was the smart one. Not him. "No, Lou... People—especially teachers are supposed to hate me... It's how our family worked. There was the successor of the family, and the disappointment. I was the latter... I... I'm cheating to get those grades."

"Yeah, and I totally don't have a crush on my best friend."

Mark moved his chin from the palm of his hand, taking his gaze from the window. He looked at her, stunned with widened eyes. "What?"

Louis panicked, freezing up. "Na-nothing!" The bus screeched to a halt, and she immediately darted upward. "ThisismystopsorryseeyoulaterMarkgoodbyenow."

Mark rapidly blinked, watching her quickly dash off. She was as red as they get. Mark didn't even hear what she'd said. He dismissed it. Besides, he could ask her later.

On another note, he had other things to worry about and question. That thing being his Jackaboy; seeing he hadn't seen him all day, Mark had a moment and had a thought that ate him inside out all afternoon...

Jack could've gotten so sick, he might've took a heart attack, he might've stopped breathing, he could've went into a coma. Something extremely urgent could've happened.

And Mark couldn't shake the heavy weight anxiety off the entire eerily quiet ride home when images of Jack being deathly ill crossed his mind.