Smoke ~ a Goth Kids fanfiction

Back at school, are we?

"Ah fuck, I have to go back don't I?" I groggily inquire as Michael's alarm clock screams it's mournful tune. 

"Yep. Come on, only two more years. You know what? That sounds longer than I was intending it to... never mind." He chuckles.

I peel myself off of the goths pale chest and stride to the bathroom. We didn't have sex, if you were wondering. I just thought I'd clear that up. I rubbed my eyes until they went fuzzy, raked a comb through my tangled hair, and applied a fresh swath of eyeliner to each eye. I exited the bathroom... then a realization hit me like a can of soup (for my family). 

"My bags are at Pete's house..." I mutter. Michael sits up on the bed and lazily slings his button-up shirt around his shoulders. 

"Goddamn girl you've borrowed everyone's clothes now!" He yawns.

"Ah I know. God I'm sorry... now everyone at school will know... or think that we..." I stammer.

"Fuck what those conformists think. They're caught up in their cliques, they always have been, and they think I am too. They think I'm too goth to be in love. But let's change that. I'm not ashamed of you, so wear my clothes. Let's prove those Britney wannabes wrong." Michael declared as he arose, towering strongly and adamantly. 

"Okay, so what the hell is gonna fit me?" I grin.

After much rummaging in the obsidian jungle that is his closet, I discovered a mesh crop top... well, to be frank, a crop top on him, so it would be the perfect length on me. 

"Oh hey I forgot about that one!" The curly haired boy commented.

"So I can wear my red bra under this, and maybe a jacket..." I turn and flip through a low rack. 

Michael's closet is big enough to belong to a queen, it's almost like a small, exclusively goth second hand shop. I felt like I was hunting for a bargain on clothing while in his closet. 

I finally fell upon an old, short, grey fur coat. I removed it from the rack and held it up.

"What do you think about this?" I inquire.

"That is incredibly hot." He states as a smirk paints his lips. "Now what about this?" He grabs a leather skirt adjacent to him. 

"... sometimes I wear skirts... what can I say?" He hands me the piece of clothing.

"I in fact love it! Now I'm excited to see what you change into!" I giggled.

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The first step we took into the crowded halls of South Park high, everyone's eyes fell onto us. My knees shook as I glanced up at my boyfriend, he nodded as if to say, "it's ok, keep walking." 

"Oh so look at the wannabe emo girl... looks like Michael could get his dick wet without fucking his little gay friend!" A familiar voice rang through the halls. Bebe Stevens approached us, hand on her hip, sporting a slutty outfit and a smirk to match. 

"You just shut up! Shut up!" Michael shouted as he lunged at her. He was inches away from her face, his frame shook as his soul roiled. 

"Oh you think I'm scared of you, huh? Oh you think you're so bad. But we all know that you're just a little coward stuck in that tall-ass spaghetti body. You're just a bitch who wants to fuck any slut that crosses your sad, dark and dreary path." Bebe ruthlessly mocked him. 

"Say what you want about me. Think whatever you desire, I don't care. But never, I repeat, NEVER call her a slut." His voice became grim. 

"And what are you gonna do about it? Slut." Bebe emphasized the last syllable and smirked.

Michael snapped. He threw her up against the locker, a deafening clang pierced the air, Bebe screamed. 

"Stop!" I rushed over and grabbed the goth's shoulder. He loosened his grip on the girl, letting her slip away from his grasp. He spun around to face me, his dark eyes glossy with tears. 

"I-I'm so sorry..." he shook and fell into my arms, almost knocking me over. 

"Woah! Oh boy. Let's go somewhere else." I dragged him to the back of the school and pushed the exit door open. 

"Woah what happened to you?" Henrietta's voice inquired. 

The rest of the goths relaxed against the wall, chain smoking and listening to music. 

"Well Michael kind of snapped at Bebe..." I explained, setting my boyfriend down against the wall. Tears started racing down his pale cheeks, he brought a shaky hand up to smear them away. His eyeliner crawled downwards like a sinister spider.

"I don't know what happened... I've just... I mean I've always wanted to do that, but I guess this was the final straw." Michael mused.

"It's ok. But I think we should lay low for the day." I instructed.

"She had it coming I bet. What'd she do?" Henrietta asked as a cloud of smoke escaped her purple lips.

"She, well she called me a slut and fucking tore Michael apart." I recounted.

"It's always the short ones. They're fucking small, but they'll fuck you up in the worst ways." Firkle chimed in.

"Dude, you are fucking short!" Pete laughed. 

Firkle let out a guttural growl as Pete shielded his face. 

"Well, I did it because... well I guess I've never cared about someone this much before. I- I- I couldn't just stand there and let it happen." Michael explained.

"You haven't?" Pete muttered, barely loud enough to be heard. He arose and dropped his cancer stick to the ground and stomped on it. "I'll be going now. I'll see you in class." He said grimly.

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"Huh. Talent show. I wonder who actually does these still?" I muse while inspecting a poster advertising a, you guessed it, talent show. 

"Oh my god, we used to participate in it and like, sing some dumb song about not caring if we win, then we would legitimately go backstage and plot about winning." Michael recounted as he chuckled.

"I smell some serious hypocrisy here, man." I observe, wrinkling my nose.

"I'm doing it this year." Pete's voice pipes up.

"What? The talent show? Michael turns to the pudgy goth.

"Yeah! I mean why not, right? I've been practicing my singing!" He excitedly adds. 

"So you're conquering your social anxiety with something that will exponantially embarrass you? I don't get it." Henrietta comments. 

"Precisely." Pete states.

"Hey, you guys should all come to my house tonight, let's have a horror movie marathon or something." The female goth suggests. 

There's a general murmuring of agreement among the group. The rest walks away, leaving Michael and I alone. 

"You better watch out, Henrietta's the queen of scary movies." Michael says in his monotone voice.

"Well, you know how I don't do well with animatronics at the store... so this should be fun, right?" I shakily answer.

"We'll just have to protect each other." He ruffles my hair.

"I like that idea." I lean in for a quick peck on the cheek.