Saline Strings

four: library

September 7th, 2017

The next day, Favian brought rubbing alcohol and a dishrag to school and hid it in his locker, to hopefully clean the heartfelt messages from the door after class. Taking his books out, he yawned. It wasn't easy to wake up that day, since Alpine's been sending him the most random videos on YouTube, then they discussed each throughout. That's how he ended up going to sleep around 4 AM. It was not hard to conclude he'd be physically dead. His hair was tied so loosely it might've not even been tied at all, and his sweater was grabbed hurriedly from the floor of his room.

Yawning, he shut the locker, then looked around mindlessly. It was about ten minutes before the first class, so he quickly directed his steps toward his classroom, trying his hardest to keep his damn eyes open. Alpine wasn't anywhere near, which was weird, since they started with English.

He ran in a minute before the bell rang. His cardigan was probably chosen in a similar manner as Favian's clothes, not seeing an iron for more than a month. Panting heavily, with his hair all messy, he smiled and waved.

"I made it!"

"Congratulations," Favian responded, unenthusiastically.

"You did it! The fish!" Alpine chuckled breathlessly, leaning on the wall.

"It's still the stupidest fucking fish ever."

"But you did it!"

"I wanted to be nice. Or something…"

He didn't actually know why he's set that fish as his picture, but it wasn't like he knew the reason of majority of things he happened to do.

The other smiled again, then they followed the rest of the class, since Mr. Walker emerged out of nowhere and opened the door.

Favian looked around the classroom, as Alpine set his things on the desk and stared at him with a stupid smirk he didn't quite know the meaning of.

"...W-What?"

Alpine shrugged in response, opening his notebook, the expression not fading even a little bit.

The majority of class was the teacher talking about poetry and Favian actually listened carefully, and, to his surprise, Alpine was hooked as well, despite the constant chatter in the back. His face was a bit scrunched in a focused expression, which his little gay head classified as 'somewhat cute'. The first sign that something was about to go wrong and that he needed to dismiss that thought as soon as he possibly could.

"Since the majority of you wasn't listening to me," Near the end, Mr. Walker looked around the class, annoyed, as usual. "I want each one of you to write a poem and hand it to me on Monday. Maybe then you'll all appreciate how hard it is to write poetry. A good poetry, poetry that deserves a B."

As the voices of displeasure echoed through the room, Favian sighed. Great, he was going to get a B, and remind everyone in the class he was the school faggot. As a random guy in the back was arguing, the poor soul only getting the teacher more frustrated, someone nudged his shoulder.

"You're going to do good. I've read your faggy poems," he heard behind him, but he didn't move at all.

Wow.

He didn't even get to writing his poem before it happened. Not very surprising.

Closing his eyes, he only took a breath, not going to take shit from fucking Ladybug. He'd recognize her stupid voice everywhere. She always sounded like she had a cold. Her wardrobe consisted of the most stereotypical popular girl aesthetic, and he knew for sure she had a crush on Spider since elementary school. Trying not to think about the actual circumstances, in which she got her hands on his "faggy poems", Favian counted to twenty in his head.