The last thing I remembered before being shaken awake by a blurry for with blond hair was Timothy going to bed, and me sitting for the next few hours working. I'd told Timothy I was going to work on our project, but I was actually researching... feelings. It'd never been my strong suit. I'd had one boyfriend—well, not really a boyfriend. I'd slept with someone before. Let's just say, I didn't want to repeat that incident. It had taken me years to push it to the back of my mind. But that wasn't something a person could just forget. I wished I could. I had nightmares about that incident.
The reason I was researching this was Timothy. Not that I was in love with him, I was just looking at the subject of friendships.
Timothy seemed nice. I could tolerate him. Was that a sign? For most people, no. For me, maybe.
Timothy seemed to be curious about me. He didn't seem put off my odd antics, and my anti-social behavior. I liked it. I liked being liked. It was an interesting feeling.
"What the fuck?" I said, my voice groggy from just waking up.
"Language." Then Timothy laughed and said, "You fell asleep at your desk. I wasn't sure whether I should've moved you or..." he trailed off. I looked down, and saw that, at some point in the night, a fluffy blue blanket had been draped over my shoulders. My chest hurt. Hard to breath. Not pleasant, but I began to smile despite myself.
"Thank you." Where did that come from? I hadn't thanked someone in years!
"You're welcome!" Timothy was grinning ear to ear; it made my heart hurt even more. God, emotions sucked.
I nodded, and sat up. "Why'd you wake me?"
"...School, you idiot!" Timothy was laughing. He did that a lot. It was hard not to follow suit. The way his whole face lit up, his cheeks went rosy, and his eyes crinkled at the sides as he pressed them closed.
"Oh. Great."
"We have music. I think."
I perked up. "You do music?"
"Yes, I play piano and... sing." He winced. Why? I had no idea. That was just the reason I was researching feelings.
"I play clarinet."
"Cool. I could never keep track of what all those little buttons do."
I smiled. He was making an attempt at small talk. Wrong audience, but I'd listen. He deserved that much at least.
We walked together to music, and sat together. The teacher explained that there would be a music contest coming up in a month. She personally asked me to enter. Usually I wouldn't pay any attention and instead just go play music in my room, but Timothy expected me to join now. Goddamnit.
"Please? I bet you're awesome!"
"You barely know me."
Timothy's face changed, a mask of hurt. I didn't mean to be so rude... I just wasn't used to people. Plus, he didn't really know me at all. He just thought I was some nerd kid that didn't talk much. I suppressed a laugh. He didn't know about the drugs or smoking... He wouldn't want to be my friend if he knew.
"Right. Sorry." Timothy scowled. "I forgot you were an anti-social jerk!"
"Mhm. Sure you did. You're just using me for good grades and someone to ramble to!"
"Grades? Really? Is that your way of saying I couldn't get good grades without you?" Then he added, as an afterthought, "I don't ramble."
That escalated quickly. I scoffed, then turned around fast, my eyes narrowed toward the ground. My curls fell over my face and I couldn't see, but it was worth it for a cool exit. Sort of.
"Sherlock, are you?" I heard Timothy mutter to my back. I almost grinned. He had a habit of making me smile even in the most inappropriate times. "You're just like 'im! Rude, dismissive, brash. Even look like him, you do. The dark curly hair and stupid cheekbones. Well, guess what? I'm not going to be your John! I try to be your friend and you just- just- argh!" Timothy threw his hands up in anger, and stormed out of the room.
"It is what it is." I whispered.
There goes my second friend. Great.
I started thinking about what he'd said. Sherlock was a sociopath. Was Timothy somehow saying I was a fucking sociopath? I wasn't... I'd just had some... unfavorable experiences, to say the least. I shivered.
"It is what it is." I repeated, to myself this time, my voice slightly uncertain. God, why did Sherlock have to be so right? "It is what it is." I said again, adding confidence to my tone.
Sometimes you can't have what you want. Can't love the people you want. Can't forget the things that haunt you.
It is what it is.
This is really short, yes. It was late at night. Couldn't sleep. Pro-Day tomorrow. I decided to write something.
Moving in a week!
-Ray
Also, check out this art by @philshouseplant16! Go check her out! Her writing is amazing, and her art is really good! Thank you, btw. It means so much to me that someone likes my story enough to do fanart!
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