• comfortable early morning silences on the school bus
• thighs touch, but neither of you pull back at the contact.
• small talk leads to snickering about inside jokes
• they walk with you by your side, not accelerating, but walking with the pace you set; eyes shifting back from the ground and to you
• you both share all the same classes, it's a miracle. you don't feel so alone in a crowded room anymore.
• the first ones in.
• the room's a quiet, empty, but clean space; rays of light peeking through the windows, spilling onto the desks and chairs
• you both take a seat together, and suddenly you see them in a completely different light
• literally.
• the sun kissed their gentle features, and you feel yourself wishing their hands upon your very own. lips upon your own.
• they immediately break your gaze and smile like the dumbass you know and love.
• lets watch some clownery, they say, pulling up their phone and connecting to the schools wifi
• what type of clownery? you ask, leaning closer to them. they don't seem to flinch away when you rest your chin on their shoulder
• they clicked on a Jaclynn Hill apology video
• oh. Type B.
• class starts.
• and lectures begin.
• the day goes by with jotted down notes, suprise quizzes, announcements for upcoming exams and school events — it seemed like any other day with usual impasse
• now you have Social Studies, the last subject.
• you fared well in it, however, you buddy didn't. as brilliant as they were, they were unequivocally dumb and emitted dumb bitch energy. You'd think ten years together, they'd mature a little and gain some braincells, but they'll always be them.
• jotting down notes, you failed to notice them leaning so close next to you
• their hand rest atop yours, and suddenly, your heart skips a beat, and you couldn't help but wonder if it was the contact that made you feel this way, or the hereditary heart problems foreshadowing it's grand entrance
• either way, your heart skipped as they rubbed a thumb across the back of your hand
• meet me at the back of the school, they kept their voice low. Social Studies teacher was a bit of a bitch at incessant noise.
• you felt alarmed. at the back?
• they roll their eyes. not plotting anything disastrous, just meet me at the back.
• the last period is over, and as you pack up, you see them rush out the minute the bell rings.
• meet me at the back. It reverberated in your head, bouncing off every ( not ) corner like a Blu-ray stalling popup on the TV
• the hallways were hectic, which made you claustrophobic and irritable. you hoped this was worth the trouble.
• ▇▇▇▇▇▇! You called out for them. You finally made it to the back of the school, but they weren't there
• the sky began to turn a worrying maroon, and fog seemed to loom around you as you backed away from the hazy surroundings
• thats when your back hit against something — or perhaps someone — hard
• you turn around to apologize and maybe suggest to get the fuck out of there too
• alas, you stood frozen in terror — the thing you turned around to, it wasn't... It wasn't human.
• millions of red eyes peered down at you from it's unshaped mass
• you took a daring step back, only for you to hit another of this unnatural creature
• you opened your mouth to scream as it neared you, claws sharp and long seemingly begging to sink into your flesh
• the thing opened it's mouth and bared it's dozens or perhaps thousands of elongated, sharp teeth. The stench that came from it was so putrid and dense, you felt as if it'd been hoarding a thousand rotten corpses in it's mass
• it open it's mouth and spoke
• and you widened your eyes in fear at the familiar voice as it spoke in unrecognisable, but forbidden tongues
• ᵍᵘⁿᵍᵃ ᵍⁱⁿᵍᵒ ᵍᵘⁿᵍᵘ ᵍᵃⁿᵍᵘ ᵍᵘⁿᵍᵃ ᵍⁱⁿᵍᵒ ᵍᵘⁿᵍⁱ ᵍⁱⁿᵍᵒ ᵍᵃⁿᵍᵒ ᵍⁱⁿᵍᵒ ᵍᵘⁿᵍᵃ
