Fucking emo

In the fucking sidelines

He told me to follow him, and I did, only to try and understand what was happening. I was angry and, for some reason, emotionally exhausted, which was why I constantly avoided people.

We walked a few blocks down until we reached an alley that led us to a construction site. From there, we crossed into a road that led out into a forest. The small towns in this area always ended abruptly, and I could never get used to it. The day was clouded and dull, and we didn't see a soul.

It turned out the police were looking for him, or so he said. Maybe they suspected him of something, but he seemed too inoffensive and inept to be capable of anything serious. It was obvious that I had more of a killer instinct than he did.

Deep in the forest, he finally stopped right in the middle of the path. He turned back to me and, with his deep, breaking voice, he said, "This is how it always ends..." He came to me and grabbed my hand. I froze, maybe even blushed a little, but he dragged me off the beaten path through the trees and towards a large set of rocks, maybe two stories high or so, by the side of a hill. The hill was visible from the balcony in my home. He let go, and we climbed the rocks until we reached a sort of plateau. I hadn't seen it from below, and he asked me to sit down while he remained kneeled.

"What the fuck is this?" I asked, sitting and watching him pant a bit after the steep climb. We weren't really hidden; there were some trees between us and the path, but not many.

He didn't answer, which made me punch him hard in the arm. He flinched in pain but didn't say anything. Then I heard voices.

Two guys around our age were coming down the same path we had taken. I thought they would see us, and I immediately felt embarrassed about being seen sitting on the rocks with him, apparently doing nothing. But not for one second did they turn to look at us. I could see them clearly, although their voices were too distant to comprehend anything they were saying. They stopped about the same place we had stopped before heading towards the rocks, but they didn't look our way at any moment. We were far, but not that far. If we talked, they would hear us. But I knew we shouldn't. The emo kid was watching them intently.

They got off the path a bit towards us, but a bit further down. Finally stopping by a tree that was only a few meters from us below. One of the guys had fairly tanned skin and dirty blond medium hair, while the other had chestnut skin and black and blonde dreadlocks. The blonde guy had a knife and was drawing a circle around them. Meanwhile, the other kid was taking a sip from a bottle. They had a six-pack of clear alcohol that I couldn't identify.

Once the circle was done, they both sat down inside it to talk and drink. I looked at Alex, who was watching them intently. He was cute. Below the makeup, you could see that he was really cute. He had baby-smooth skin, and his teeth were perfectly white. I was getting bored watching the guys and couldn't resist messing with him. I started by throwing small rocks at him, but he remained concentrated.

The guys below kept drinking and smoking, and I decided to keep going. I grabbed his arm, and my number was still readable. I started giving him an Indian burn, and he took it much more like a man than I expected.

He remained silent. And so did I.

The guys downstairs continued to drink and smoke. I threw another small stone at him to get his attention, he looked at me. And I opened my mouth:

G i v e y o u r s e l f f a w e d g i e .

I mimicked taking my own underwear off.

He looked down and then back at me. Then he lifted his shirt and sat down, pulling on his underwear without making a sound.

He twitched a little in pain. I signalled for him to keep pulling. Which he did until the leg holes started to show. This went on for a while, with me signalling him to do it again, and gaining every time he let go in pain.

And then out of nowhere he was lying on his chest, still looking down at the boys.

He signalled for me to do the same and I did. I could clearly see his stretched out underwear.

Down there, the two boys took off their pullovers and shirts and their trousers. They stood there looking at each other in their underwear for a long time. They were kissing.

I envied them for a while, but then the boy with the dreadlocks. He punched the blond guy in the stomach. He fell to his knees. There was no crying or screaming.

Then he took one of the bottles and smashed it on his head. I gasped for breath. Alex grabbed my hand.

The blond boy fell to the floor and stayed there. Soon it was clear that he was bleeding.

The other boy just looked at him. The sun was setting and details were hard to see in the creases of my shirt. He was wearing black underwear and looked like a shadow. The other was wearing white and red boxer shorts and seemed knocked out.

The shadow boy got another bottle of alcohol and started pouring it along the circle his friend had carved while he took a few sips. He poured the rest of the bottle over his friend's bloodied face... which seemed to do the trick and he began to move.

He kicked him on the ground for a while, then bent down, grabbed him by his underwear, dragged him towards the tree that was the centre of the circle, and then started to pull him up. He hoisted him up. The bleeding rag doll of a boy seemed weightless. And soon he was hanging from the tree by his underwear.

The blond boy was awake, his skin and underwear dirty and muddy from being dragged, he'd dropped the knife and the shadow boy had returned it to him and spat in his face.

I winced, remembering that I had done the same just a few hours ago... Then he sat on the floor, legs crossed. Staring at his victim.

Then I looked at Alex who was mesmerised. He knew. It would happen. When and how.

Then the shadow boy went through his clothes and got a gun. A second later he shot himself. The other boy just watched his dead partner from the tree.

I think now that a different kind of person would have gone down there and helped him. Maybe earlier and stopped them both. I just stood on the bloody sidelines and watched.

I watched as the blond kid cut both his wrists with the knife and started bleeding badly...

I didn't watch any more after that. I rolled over and looked up at the sky, still cloudy but slowly turning a warm orange.

After a while, Alex did the same.

"I'll have to call the police for real this time," I said. "And you won't tell them I was here with you."

He remained silent. I hated him.

☆