Smoke ~ a Goth Kids fanfiction

Helpless

Pete and I burst out of the piss-yellow school and started striding to the back of the building.

"My friends should be back here." Pete huffed as he turned the corner.

Right outside of an exit door were three teens, all dressed in black and smoking cigarettes. 

"Who's this poser?" The short goth inquired.

"Uh, hi, I'm Y/N. And you are?" I said defensively.

"Firkle. And this is Henrietta, and Michael." He pointed at the others.

"Hey. I said I'd see you around." Micheal stated nonchalantly, dropping his cancer stick to the ground and stepping on it, his eyes lingering on me.

"I don't know if I saw you first though..." I giggled. Michael shook his head playfully and turned to Pete. "So are we going to get coffee or what?" 

"Yeah, y/n will be coming with, she's pretty cool, and she seems to know you, Michael?" Pete questioned.

"Yeah, we talked in the hall for a brief moment." Micheal said quietly.

"Hmm I see." A voice seemingly belonging to Henrietta purred.

Pete rubbed his hands together. "So let's go! We all can squeeze into my car!" He turned and motioned for the group to follow.

As we walked, Henrietta approached my side. "So, you don't seem very goth. Are you just alt or... what's your deal?" She asked in a sour voice.

"Well, I guess it just depends on the day. I have the most inconsistent aesthetic, I can't just choose one. Some days it's goth or punk, another day it could be cottagecore!" I giggled, because it was truly an interesting thing to think about.

Henrietta gave me a once over and said, "yeah, it works on you." Then fell behind. I looked back briefly and saw her talking to Michael, he glanced up at me, so I turned my gaze back ahead, embarrassed to be caught looking at him. We all reached Pete's automobile, which was a shabby silver Honda, seemingly passed down through generations.

"Alright, so y/n will take the front with me"— Pete started to state, until a small voice piped up, "I call shotgun!" Firkle practically leapt into the front seat. I was kind of relieved, I didn't want to feel awkward or needy by being in the front, and of course, now I would get to sit next to Michael. 

"I'll take the middle seat." I offered. Henrietta slid in, I followed, and Michael did the same. I was basically in a hot goth sandwich, and I had no complaints. 

My heat was pounding, I prayed that Michael wouldn't notice. But of course, he did. The tall goth took my hand and felt my pulse, slowly moving his fingers down to my wrist. He gazed at me and asked,

"Are you ok? We aren't gonna murder you, if that's what your wondering." He smiled.

"Oh, I'm fine, I uh, I just had some caffeine earlier." I whispered, coming up with a quick lie.

He gently let go of my arm, then purred with a voice like velvet, "I'm glad you're ok, y/n." God I love how he spoke my name. 

I looked up at the drivers seat, and could see Pete shifting uncomfortably. He reached for the knob on the radio, fiddling with it until he found a song on the radio that he liked. He turned the volume up until the noise was enveloping the entire car.

The red haired boy started to sing along confidently, soon Firkle joined in, then Henrietta, though reluctantly. I recognized it as a song by "She Wants Revenge", so I started to sing uncomfortably. Soon afterwards, the tall goth beside me started to belt out the lyrics quietly, then became progressively louder, almost like he was performing for an audience. We all basked in the number, even headbanging for a brief period. I could tell that I was going to like my new acquaintances.