stupid | technoblade x oc

Ch. 3

First Person POV

The ride home with Techno wasn't horrible. He wasn't super weird or repulsive. He's awkward sometimes, and he's got a dark sense of humor, but he definitely doesn't appear to be the bad news that he's made out to be. Maybe it's because he has pink hair and skates - not exactly the vision of a young man that all older people want to see around here.

"Why'd you walk over to me?" He asked as he drove. His right hand was dangling out the open window, while his left held the steering wheel, occasionally adjusting it if the truck veered too far one way or the other. His pinkish brown hair blew slightly in the wind, and he occasionally would glance in the rear view mirror. He was a good driver, but then again it's not like there was any traffic. The most you had to be wary of was the occasional rabbit on the dirt road.

I honestly didn't have an answer to his question. I wasn't sure why I walked over to him, I just felt like it. Could it be just my desire to spite Jaime? Or not even just Jaime - the whole town? Perhaps I was simply bored. However, I still wasn't sure. So, I didn't give him an answer.

"Why'd you punch that guy?" I asked instead, "at the gas station."

He glanced over briefly, but I could clearly read the "are you crazy?" look on his face. He scoffed, "What do you think I am, some kind of monster?"

"What do you mean?"

He chuckled lowly and rolled his eyes, "I'm not just gonna let some psycho kidnap or sexually assault you in some way. I have some human decency."

I nodded blankly, then stared out the window.

***

My parents didn't acknowledge how I got home so quickly once I stepped inside. I'm glad. They didn't need to know about Techno, but I wasn't going to hide him from them. If they asked I'd tell them.

I climbed the stairs to my room and hung my backpack on it's designated hook that I made. I slumped solemnly into my bed, feeling the welcoming and comforting yet entrapping blankets slowly wrap around me. My homework remained in my backpack, which sat tauntingly at the other side of my room, but if it had a living working mind it would know any homework would go unfinished. Everyone knew that.

I wasn't going to do that anymore. I'm tired of doing my best and getting nothing - less than nothing. It seemed I just disappointed.

Who is it that I disappoint? It appears to be everyone, although it's never been explicitly said. I can see it though, in my mother's eyes when I don't wear the cross necklace she gave me two years ago. I can sense it from my classmates who watch me fall further behind the rest.

Do I see it in Techno? Does he see me as disappointing?

Not yet - he doesn't have any expectations of me. Not that I know of.

I find my grip on my arm to be hardened, and when I release imprints of my hand is left on my forearm, reminding me to relax before I get too angry.

My TV turns on slowly as I go out to the kitchen to make popcorn. All I want to do is succumb to the fictitious world of Criminal Minds and fall in love with almost every character in a different way for the millionth time. I can hear the Netflix logo appear on my screen over the sound of popping in the microwave.

"Watching Criminal minds again?" My father comments from the living room, which is not separated from the kitchen at all.

"Yeah." I mumbled, feeling like I was about to be put on blast.

He turned the page of his newspaper, "Just make sure to not be too loud. Your mother is tired. And don't forget to do your homework."

I smiled, "I will. Goodnight." It was just about 4:30, but we both knew we wouldn't see each other until morning.

My father I could tolerate more than my mother. Although he was the pastor, he knew I was not as crazy about their beliefs as they were and he didn't care, so long as I wasn't outwardly going against his teachings. My mother, however, tends to get fired up about it and yells at me for not believing in everything. She moans and weeps about the hatred in the world but let the political tension of the country drive us apart.

She and I used to be very close, and I was close with my father too. We were a happy family, until I developed a personality of my own that wasn't simply an extension of them. Then my mom got upset with me more often and my dad just distanced a bit and sided with her.

Dad was tall, he was about 6'3". My mother was not tall, and I got stuck somewhere in the middle at 5'5". I received most of my dad's physical traits from the straight brown hair and eyes, right down to the shape of my nose. My mom, however, passed on her freckles to me. A lot of them. I have more than both my parents combined, they cover most of my face and arms, but not so much my legs. Both of them have poor eyesight, though, so we all have glasses. I didn't love nor hate the way I looked. I figured it worked for me but it was nothing to feel superior about.

With the door closed behind me and blankets in order, I pressed play on the first episode of season nine. I had already seen every episode, but I could rewatch it all day - which is what I plan to do. I sat up, and then stopped suddenly when I heard the crinkle of paper from the inside of my sweatshirt pocket. Pursing my lips, I took it out of my pocket and carefully straightened it out as best as I could, revealing the ten digit number separated by dashes.

"You're quiet." Techno noted. We had been driving a while, after he asked if he could take a small detour - the scenic route. I allowed it.

I shrugged.

"Not much to say?"

I shook my head, "What's there to say?"

It was his turn to shrug, "Anything, I guess. I don't know much about you."

"That's okay."

He smiled, but said nothing. I wish I could describe the comfort I felt sitting in his truck to complete accuracy. It wasn't the sort of familiarity comfort I felt at home, where I knew where everything was and how it felt and where the danger was and was not. No, in this truck beside him, it was a calm and safe comfort. I didn't know where the dangers were with him, but I knew they couldn't get me.

I grimaced at my own thoughts. What the hell was wrong with me?

"Ever had a crush, Techno?"

He seemed taken aback at my question. I was too, but there wasn't any meaning behind it.

"That came out of nowhere," he snorted, "but, no, I don't believe so. I've thought some people were attractive before but I've never had an infatuation with someone that willed me to be with them intimately. Why do you ask?"

I shrugged, "Getting to know the other mystery in this town, I guess."

He stopped at a stop sign, and leaned over to open the glovebox in front of me. He rustled through everything in there before finding a pen and an old gun wrapper. He used the steering wheel in front of him as a surface to write efficiently on the wrapper, and then he handed it to me. Scrawled on it we're a series of numbers, obviously his phone number.

"If you want to get to know me more, there's that."

Against my better judgement, I typed the numbers into my phone and held it to my ear, listening to the rings on the other end. The volume was turned down on my TV, and I watched Morgan kick in a door anxiously. It wasn't until the fifth one that the ringing stopped and shuffling was heard on the other line.

"Hello?"

I ended the call immediately.

***