Famous Last Words || FRERARD

1

Frank loved to space off, a symphony of thoughts running through his head as he tried to tune them all out. It was easy to wander during math class, to forget his physical being for a while and remember every lyric to his favourite song. Nervous Breakdown by Black Flag. He knew it was the most popular, and he sounded like such a fake fan right now, but it was a classic. The lyrics constantly played in his head, and it had slugged to the point he wanted to get the whole damn song tattooed in some type of hope it would leave his head. Sometimes, he would see himself leave his own head, the twig-like teen lurking around in the dark as he wandered away from the bright light of being conscious. He adored retreating into his headspace any time, even just for a moment and even when it wasn't intentional. 

It was called Dissociating or something apparently, but he really didn't give a shit. Wasn't like it was killing him, so why should he bother? He saw it as something of an escape, a little break from the world that got so downright fucking annoying. Speaking of absolute waste of time, algebra is probably the dumb-est class Frank had ever had to take. The whole thing was just formulas and numbers that went on for a century after the decimal. There really was no point, and it drove Frank absolutely nuts that he had to deal with an entire fucking semester of it. Hence why he opted to space out, let his eyes go fuzzy and tune out everything but the end-of-class bell. It was far preferred, no secret to it.

Eyes flicking down to his arms, Frank lingered there for a moment. He was supposed to get his words today, but whether or not it would actually happen, he was starting to doubt. Everyone just got theirs on their sixteenth birthday, and it was indeed October thirty-first... But the whole damn process was taking forever. The girl to his left admired hers, "You're beautiful" peaking out from the end of her sleeve all bashful and boastful at the same time. It was in an ugly font, something like comic sans. Made Frank gag every time he saw it, half from how sappy and gross, half from jealousy.

Honestly, he thought the whole soulmate thing was bullshit. Why the fuck does whoever 'Fate" is get to decide his true love? Why the fuck should he waste time waiting for the godly-assigned love of his life? There's perfectly good bitches around, regardless of whether or not some weirdo wanted you to be with them or not.

The words were supposed to appear at the exact time you were born, which of course, nobody had told Frank. Not that this was of burning relevance, of course. He'd learned that early on, tracing the cursive on the back of his mother's shoulders every time she ever let it show. He was a child then, but regardless, she'd swat his hands away, rolling her eyes. She knew her husband at the time was not her soulmate, and their divorce only solidified the idea in Frank's mind that it was absolute bullshit.

Tapping his fingers on the desk, he tried to focus on a restless rhythm, attempting to expel his anxious energy. There really was no point in the anxiety, and yet, here he was. Part of him worried it'd be something stupid, or something he'd have to hide with makeup. What if it was a fucking slur? As the hour ticked by, Frank felt panic rise in his bones- which even he could admit was stupid, but it was happening anyway.

Now all he could think about was how this bullshit actually worked. You would think going to a magical tattoo shop would make more sense, or having your words be there as a birthmark, but no. Scientists never really bothered to explain it to anyone, usually explaining it off with 'Skin spore formations', but by that logic, people should have shit more like gibberish and less like a coherent sentence. It just didn't make sense to him in the slightest... but at the same time, maybe he didn't want to know. What if it was like some infection the whole human race had, or what if this is all a simulation and it was just faulty programming? Shit like this always kind of swam at the back of his mind, and it was more of a fucking curse than being under five feet to him at least.