Fucking emo

No one fucking cared

That was the thing, the lesson. No one gave a damn about the emo boy, and, more importantly, he didn't seem to care either. It had been raining for most of the week, and while most of us took the bus or had someone to drive us back and forth, it became evident that he had no one. He arrived at school dripping wet, his clothes shiny, and didn't bother to dry off.

On his way out, he always did the same thing. I did wonder what his parents said about him arriving in that state. However, that day, he was again ambushed by a group. I was actually waiting for my ride, so I had a perfect view from inside the building.

They seemed to be making some demands of him. The girls were visibly giggling while the guys talked and shoved the kid around.

Suddenly, one of the guys grabbed his backpack and pushed him away from it. I couldn't see if it broke or if it just easily slid off, but he landed on the wet cement with the bag in his hand.

He opened it, and then poured all the contents of the bag onto the wet floor. The emo boy watched attentively as his stuff hit the ground. Then, the guy kicked his notebook, and it landed in a puddle nearby. The rest of the guys and girls followed suit, kicking and stomping on his possessions, breaking pencils and pretty much everything else.

Seconds later, they were walking away, leaving the emo kid still on the floor.

I really didn't care to help either. He was asking for it, maybe even literally, but I never really caught him doing it. He could easily cut his hair, stop with the makeup, and wear bigger clothes. He could stop sticking out, be invisible, like me. But he didn't.

Unfortunately for me, someone else had witnessed the altercation and was now going through the door. It was my Chemistry teacher. I never bothered learning their names, but he was the fat one. He had apparently borne witness to me as well and gestured to me with a hand, raising an eyebrow.

"What are you waiting for?" he said. "Go and help him." I dragged my feet, not out of laziness but out of anxiety. One, I had never seen anyone do it, so I could not anticipate the consequences. Two...it was finally an excuse to interact with him. I had never actually needed an excuse to interact with anyone. People usually barged into my life whether I wanted them to or not. But this was a chance.

A small drizzle started to fall as I crossed the door into the chilly weather.

"Hey, do you need help?" I asked.

Emo boy just looked at me for a second and dismissed me. He got up and started walking around to pick up his stuff. Every time he bent down, his shirt rode up, exposing his wet underwear and skin. He had to be cold.

Eventually, he strode off a bit while I picked up the leftover broken pencils. I figured he must actually draw or paint. Again, so fucking emo. He was reaching into a garbage can on the far corner of the sidewalk, and got his backpack out.

He then walked straight into the building with his wet stuff.

I stretched out my hand to signal him that I had recovered his damn pencils, but he did not see me. The fucking kid. Now I had to follow him back inside.

——-o——-

Schools are weird when they're empty. At least to me. I never stayed for anything around here: no after-school activities, no detention. I just got out of here as soon as I could.

I caught a glimpse of him heading to the toilets, and I followed. When I caught up, he was drying a notebook on the hand dryer. Maybe he did care about something.

"Here," I said, placing the broken pencils on the side of the sink. I saw some torn books and a broken ruler also set there.

"Those people are jerks," I said out of trite courtesy.

He just shrugged. That irked me.

"Well, you're welcome," I continued, not hoping for thanks but sincerely hoping he'd acknowledge that I was there. But he said nothing.

Now, in normal circumstances, I would have just left. Fuck him. But then he walked past me to grab another notebook to dry without saying "excuse me" or anything.

"Watch it," I said as I got out of his way. He ignored me again.

"Hey!" I finally snapped and stretched my arm to get a hold of him.

Now, I swear I meant to only hold him by the arm, maybe tell him to not be an ass and leave. But when I got a hold of him, my hand got a cold grip on him. Like possessed, I pressed strongly. I could feel the bones under his skinny arm, my nails digging deep. He grunted.

I got scared for a millisecond and had to make a conscious effort to force each muscle in my hand to let go. When I did, it was far more abrupt than I had anticipated, even though I didn't make any rash or strong movements whatsoever. I flung him across the room and slammed him into a bathroom stall. How thin was this kid, and weightless?

The door of the stall flew open, and he bounced and fell on the floor between the toilet seat and the door.

I froze. I had never hurt someone. I hadn't meant to do anything particularly brutal to hurt him...

Yet this kid looked like he had just taken a beating, lying on the floor. Then, a group of people walked in. I thought they were going to say something, but they just surveyed the room and continued with their business.

I thought about checking on him, but a girl started using the sink right beside me.

A bit freaked out, I decided it wasn't worth it. Fuck him. I don't need this. The guilt. I had never seen someone so weak, so vulnerable, so easily broken.

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