Chase Me (BoyxBoy)

Chapter 5: Alec Chase

As soon as I walk into the house, I am met with the horrifying sound of my 12 year old sister, Cynthia, cackling to herself in the living room (not to be confused with Celeste, who is 13 years old).

"Shut up, rat," I hiss as I walk past her, towards the staircase.

"Lose weight you fattie," she snaps back, while keeping her eyes glued to the laptop screen. I assume she's watching another video of her favorite Youtuber, Trisha Paytas, who spends hours eating food and crying about her seemingly non-existent love life. Honestly, me too.

Suddenly, a realization hits me, and I slowly retrace my steps back to the living room.

"Where's Celeste?" I ask worriedly. "Didn't you two go home together?" Celeste is a special case, as she requires extra care. One moment she's crossing the street, and the next she's stuck in a trash bin. With Celeste, things are always going awry whether it be getting lost or ending up in a bizarre situation.

"Oh she has tryouts for Specialty Choir today," Cynthia answers without looking up from her laptop. Specialty Choir is the choir group at Cynthia and Celeste's prep school that is supposedly composed of students with only the utmost vocal abilities.

I snort to myself. Celeste is never gonna get in. When she sings, I actually lose hope in humanity.

"Cool," I chirp. I then turn around and proceed to head upstairs. It's very quiet in the house. which means my mom's not home. Either she's wasting money on out of season purses, or she's spending time at the local nursing home, volunteering and helping out. My mother never received a college degree, and so she can't really get a profession that suits her "image" or lifestyle. To make use of her time however, she helps and volunteers whenever she can. She understands being impoverished as she was growing up, and so she values the art of charity work.

I walk in my room, throw my bag on the floor next to my vanity, and slip out of my school clothes. I don't like wearing things I wear outside inside of the house. I bring a lot of the negative energy accumulated from the city and from the people around me.

I then change into comfortable sweatpants and a vintage Gucci cream-colored sweatshirt I got from a thrift store (yes I thrift shop, get over it).

I take out my red leather diary, and begin to write. Now that there are no distractions and I have all the time in the world, I'll now tell you all about this mysterious Alec Chase. The one who can't keep his sexual fantasies to himself.

It all started in seventh grade. Luckily, Alec and I went to the same prep in middle school, the same ones my younger sisters attend now. Listen, everyone has their "ugly phase" in life, whether it be in middle school, high-school, or the adult stage, but let me tell you, I was the definition of trash in middle school. I was reminiscent of a little asian coconut who wore these small rectangular glasses only Janice from the nursing home would wear. My definition of fashion consisted of synthesizing hideous green velour sweatpants with a rainbow tie-dye jacket. Horrific, I know, but thank god my subscription to Vogue granted me salvation.

Anyways, now that you have a kind-of clear image of the awkward creature that I was back in middle-school, you'll understand the surprise that overcame me when I began to notice Alec Chase "flirting" with me. The first time this ever occurred was during a game of capture the chicken in gym class. Of course, being the sedentary person that I was and still am, I refrained from participating and instead, skipped around like an idiot. From time to time I'd "attempt" to chase someone from the other team, but after 3 seconds of running, boredom would fill my body, prompting me to lay on the grass. 

But during this one game, I decided to actually play. I'm still unsure as to why I did so, but I remember actually "trying" to some extent. Now, I may be lazy, but I will turn into Usain Bolt  during a race of which-one-will snatch-the-bag-off-the-shelf-first. Anyways, with my energetic mood along with my working legs, I was able to steal the rubber chicken from the opposing team's base, and take it back home to our own. But, as I was running back, Alec, who was on the opposing team, suddenly materialized in front of me. Of course, his athletic build prevented me from running past him so I tried to go around. Before I could, he did something no other student had done to me before. He grabbed me by the waist, and tackled me to the ground, but not in an athletic manner. It was more like a hug, like he embraced me to the grass. At the time, I was surprised, not because of the hug, but because he had the audacity to tackle a fragile being like me. No one really noticed because students were either too busy talking smack about one another, or making out in concealed spaces with their seventh-grade crushes. The teachers could not have cared less as long as no one was dead.