"Smoking kills but so does life, which death has a sweeter taste on the tongue?"
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When an avid smoker and an overly considerate girl worlds collide, someone is bound to get burned.
Published (Feb, 2019)
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Detention.
Such a weird concept.
It was the prison of juveniles- a place where teachers expected we deserved to be if we didn't do what they asked.
Personally, I had only ever gotten detention twice in the entirety of my high school life, and both were for stupid reasons.
Detention wasn't really something that one would typically put at the top of their To-Do List.
Regardless, I sat in the detention room, the teacher on duty asking me to take over and ensure the kids weren't trying to leave or doing anything "extremely bad". What fell under the extremely bad category was a question in itself, but I decided to go along with it.
Admittedly, it was only 45 minutes of detention, and I had done something like this before on several occasions, so I smiled enigmatically when he told me to take over.
It's not like I had much doing at home anyway.
That nagging sense of boredom took its course, kicking in almost immediately after I had arrived, however, the only two students present being a brown eyed boy seated in a corner by himself, and you guessed it- the new boy.
I felt awkward enough with the new boy being here, and I really had no idea why.
The look in the hallway seemed to more bother me than it did him, because the minute I came on duty, he never once glanced in my direction.
I'm sure he didn't even remember who I was or what had happened, so I was trying not to overthink it. It really was just a glance after all.
I grew drastically detached fairly quickly, the concept of me being in the room any longer starting to feel as if were tearing me to shreds.
The slow tick of the clock, the constant urge to leave. It was such an uncomfortable place to be. I never understood why people managed to get themselves here in the first place.
Before long, I started to despise every second of it.
The deafening silence was suddenly broken by the click of a pen.
I didn't have to look up to know who was switching colors of their ink.
I initially tried to ignore it, but the sound felt louder and louder as he continued.
I wasn't sure if he was just genuinely that annoying, or trying to make his presence felt but I suddenly couldn't take it anymore.
"Hey," I heard myself sharply say. "Stop that."
It was a simple sentence, no complexity or hidden meaning behind it.
Stop clicking the pen.
That's all I asked.
He stopped momentarily, a surprised look filling his features before continuing at a much faster rate.
I squinted at him in anger wondering why he had to make such a simple request seem undeniably difficult.
"Hey," I said again, a hint of annoyance in my tone. "Stop making that sound, it's annoying."
He didn't even acknowledge my voice this time, choosing instead to click his pen as if I wasn't even talking to him.
I wanted to rip the pen out of his hands and break it, but not only was this task not humanely possible, I was also extremely feeble in that regard.
He continued until the end of the session, his eyes shifting between me and the tick of the clock. As soon as it said 3:15, he grabbed his schoolbag and his pens in one swift motion.
He gathered his things and slung his bag over his shoulder in one carefree motion before making eye contact with me for the final time.
"Hey, it's okay to have manners," he simply said. "Maybe next time, try saying please and I'll consider."
I watched with an indescribable expression that was both a look of someone stunned and someone lost, as he made his way out of the room, a small cough falling from his lips.
