Fucking emo

I fucking needed that

There was no school for the rest of the week after two kids from our school had died. Although I wish I could say I remembered them or recognized them afterward, they were strangers to me. I started to regret not paying attention to people, if only out of morbid curiosity.

There are certain things that can instantly make you friendlier with another person, like snitching on them or witnessing violent acts and later sending them to the police, or even driving them home afterwards. However, at the time, I didn't know this.

I kept revisiting the other day, but only the wrong parts. His hands against mine, his hair as we lay on the rocks and the other kids engaging in...a ritual? I didn't know what else to call it.

Eventually, I decided to take a walk to explore and be a more innocent version of myself. I ended up checking the skate park, trying to picture where the kids had caught him on video the other day. But I got bored; there were other kids, but no sign of him.

I walked to the mart with a parking lot where they had treated him like a football. Then I went to the mall and imagined what kinds of things he would endure there, like being stripped naked and forced to run around. I tried not to think like that, but all my thoughts of him were making him vulnerable. And I felt terrible for it. If I liked him, why did I want to destroy him, punish him, and exhibit him?

Before long, I found myself by the bathrooms. The mall was kind of deserted, and the sun was setting. I saw a guy my age who also had golden blonde hair like mine, but he had some parts dyed pink. He was wearing a collar and leash, ripped jeans, and a leather jacket with no shirt.

I'd seen this kind of kid in the city before. He was a boy toy, a whore, out there looking for older men to pay him, bring him home, give him food, and fuck him. But I couldn't afford him.

I approached the boy and asked him point-blank, "Could I give you wedgies?" He was caught off guard but knew exactly what I meant.

"Sure," he said confidently. "I can take 'em."

"How much?" I asked.

"Just a couch to pass the night and breakfast," he replied.

I cursed to myself. This one was needy and didn't even want cash, just to stay at my place with my mom. I was screwed.

"Thanks," I mumbled and prepared to leave, but the boy followed me.

"Okay, you can do it," he said.

It was humiliating that someone like him was doing me favors when he looked so pathetic.

"Go on. Do it," he urged, removing his leather jacket to reveal his bare chest.

His ripped saggy pants revealed some generic boxers that seemed to have been worn way too much.

I decided to not think too much about it and got a good grip and pulled as far as I could. He squealed, and the boxers stretched a good amount before starting to rip.

He begged me not to rip them further, but it was too late. I didn't stop pulling for a bit.

I tripped him, and he fell on his knees. As people walked by from the nearby stores, I moved around him, and in one swift move, his boxer briefs were over his head and face. I took out my phone and recorded a video.

"Thanks, man," I said to him. He stayed curled up on the floor, grabbing his groin, defeated. "I fucking needed that."

☆