The Bad Boys' Soft Boys' Lonely Hearts Club - The Full Package

The Existentialist Approach To Daddy Issues

Well, fuck me, I guess. I let a vampire/werewolf monster come in to battle another vampire/werewolf monster. And it's not even the worst part of all. 

Hayden is sandwiched in the middle of them both, and you know damn well that with his creamy hamstrings, lean biceps, and washboard abs, he will make a superb, Kobe-grade snack for those buttmunchers. 

Now, this isn't my first rodeo. I got into a love triangle between a minotaur and a pixie a few years ago, and if I learned anything from that — save from the fact that minotaurs can be surprisingly gentle lovers — is that it's best to leave them alone to duke it out and walk away slowly, change your name to Horacio Vargas, and spend a few months down in Honduras doing humanitarian work until things cool down. 

But, this is different. I'm kinda liking the vibe of this place, oddly enough. This is the first place in a while that gets me. I wouldn't want it to get destroyed by some supernatural slap fight. Not to mention that the cops will shut us down if they find a couple of supernatural corpses strung about in the hallway. 

That is, if they don't shut this place down when they come to check the pile of bodies in the LaCroix room. 

For the good of my dream to have a peaceful last year of high school, to graduate, to work as a customer service rep...I have to do something about this. 

And also for Hayden, I suppose. 

"good luck with that," says Brayden after I explain my logic. "to be honest, i don't even wanna graduate. i have mad stacks and flat abs. i'll get a sugar mama, murder her in her sleep after year 1, contest the will with her descendants, and live the rest of my years with my honeyboo, timotheé chalamet. fistfighting some bloodsucking poodle ain't part of that. imma be in belice drinking virgin margaritas out of of a canadian tourist's bellybutton if ya need me." 

You see that period at the end of that wall of dialogue? That's me slapping him across the face. 

"you bitch, that's my head face! i use it for face stuff!"

I slap him again, just for good measure. 

"Listen to me, you heterosexual twink himbo fuck," I say, grabbing him by the collar. "I don't wanna have to go to another weird school and gauge all the weird people there and see if they're cool or not. Fuck that shit. This is the school I'm gonna graduate from, and I can't do it without you. Also, Hayden. He's important."

The cogs in Brayden's brain begin to turn as he makes a droning sound. Maybe he's like one of those old, dummy-thick TVs that you have to hit in order to work. Just in case, I slap him again. The noise gets louder. 

"why do you want me to help you, anyways?" he finally says after a straight minute of drooling. "you didn't listen to me when you let little miss sunshine apparate inside the school like a discount abercrombie voldemort."

That is exactly why I want him to help. I haven't consumed any piece of popular media in ages, and literally everything he is saying is flying over my head. If someone can stop some pulpy Hollywood vampire, is gonna be the pulpy Hollywood guy. 

I let go of his collar, mostly because my hands are starting to itch from the fabric. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? I'm not used to listening to other people. I'm kind of a lone wolf."

"no shit, sherlock. you're a bad boy! we don't travel in packs!" says Brayden  

"And I'm sorry, again. But I don't know how to kill vampires, or werewolves. You, on the other hand, seem to have a pretty good grasp on all these nonsense." 

Brayden goes all beet red — which I hope it's a sign that oxygen and blood is finally reaching his brain. 

"well...i did went to see every twilight movie the day they were premiered," he says after a few seconds of hard thinking. "same with the books. i suppose i could lend you my expertise..."