i was genuinely surprised to see that the boy in the blue sweater was still alone.
all i saw him do that whole first week was keep his head down, do his work, and sit alone with his earbuds in. it made me sad, oddly. i generally don't care much for the new kids, like i stated before, or people in general. i'm kind of a 'usually mind my own busniess' person.
i'm beginning to feel like the whole 'not liking the new kids' thing is some stupid accusation on myself that i've begun to live by.
something felt different about this one, i guess? i am not sure how to put it into words.
i want to talk to him... but i can't. i already tried once and i probably blew it. trying again just doesn't feel right.
i sighed and looked down at the paper in front of me. why are my thoughts all about him? yeah, i know i'm gay but i've never fallen for someone before. i have no knowledge as to what it feels like.
i feel nothing for the boy, though.
it's just empathy.
as if this story could not get more chiché, something happened at the end of the day that may as well started this whole thing, though now it seems insignificant, looking back on it.
i was walking back from my second class to homeroom when i spotted those damn 'fuckboys' for lack of better words. i hate them so fucking much- that sentence makes me sound like a white girl- anywho, their faces even annoy me. makes me sick. i'm sure a handful of you can relate.
i watched as the boys hit the books and papers from the boy in the sweater's hands. i mentally cringed. i hate chiché moments but hey sometimes chiché can be good.
i walked forward, seeing that everyone else was just passing by him.
i grabbed a book from the floor and handed it to him. he barely spared me a glance before running off. i never did figure out where he went after that. we still had practically a whole day of school left and he didn't show up to any of his classes.
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