I'm Glad I Got Detention With You (Boyxboy)

One

I don't even know what to say. Enjoy reading? :)

If he had just stayed quiet in class, taken the teachers irritating lecture until the bell rang, he wouldn't be in this mess. Instead he had to open his big mouth, and say the words that everyone else in the room was thinking. Now he was sitting in a very bland, colorless room, watching the clock tick at a snails pace. The only people in the classroom were him and Ms. Dell. He could hear the slap of basketballs on asphalt. People around his age waiting in a huge line only to most likely fail shots at one of the two basketball hoops. Teenagers were shouting obscenities he doubted should be allowed to say anywhere in the small town everyone here lived in. He was shocked teachers let them get away with stuff like that, it seemed like teenagers were the only people who heard what other students were saying. Or no adult here cared, it depends on the day of the week. Most of the things high schoolers were saying during lunch got his attention. From their older relatives being in illegal line of work, to committing highly sexual acts over the weekend. Obviously lies, but when someone starts making stuff up, it's best to give them the reaction they want. Shock, concern, but above all, sympathy. Or jealousy, if they were saying that they got some. Way easier than calling them out, only to be assured that they weren't lying convincingly enough to make you feel like a asshole. Maybe they were not lying at all. Then again, that would mean this town housed drug dealers, gang leaders, easily injured people, and hackers.

He sighed, resting his head in his hands. He felt his fingers comb through his dark brown hair, momentarily tugging on a few small tangles. He should have brushed his hair more this morning. Or simply got it cut, but that would mean having short hairs uncomfortably dig into the back of his neck when he was trying to sleep. Then he wouldn't sleep well, and he would be to tired to function in class. Speaking of class, he hated science. It wasn't the actual subject that irked him, it was the fact that the teacher was so annoying. The teacher, Mr. Watson, wore ugly, patterned ties. He had then around his neck them like they made him cool. Like he was supposed to be that one wacky but hilarious teacher everyone knows and loves. At the risk of sounding like a social media obsessed twat, as if. Mr. Watson was the single most annoying person he had ever had the displeasure of meeting. Mr. Watson was the reason he was in here in the first place, that and his big mouth. The science teacher had a ridiculously high pitched voice, which naturally earned him the nickname 'ear rape'. It was expected in this high school, especially with the type of smart aleck students that it tried to cram information down. but Mr. Watson didn't take it too well. And just mere minutes ago some dimwitted kid with river green hair, who he had not bothered to learn the name of, leaned over to where one of his buddies was sitting  and whispered in his ear. The green haired kid was a horrible whisperer. He could here it from his seat across the room, word for word.

"I think ear rape is on his period." The sentence started and ended with a snicker, voice full of mock concern. The smirk  was quickly ripped from the kids face when a few giggles erupted from classmates who found everything funny, and the teacher started glaring full force at those people, daring them to keep laughing. Even short haired girl, who he thought was named Whitney, was trying to hide her smile. He guessed it was because she knew Mr. GreenHair was screwed. And she was always telling people to shut up, and that 'it wasn't funny'. Hypocrite. Mr. Watson then went into a long lecture about respect, and he was the teacher, here to teach, and we were the students, here to learn. His voice and behavior was more out-there than usual, the combination of a shrill voice and retarded hand gestures more than enough to give everyone a head and stomach ache.

Someone had to get Mr. Watson to shut up before the whole class's ears exploded. But who? He recalled glancing around the room, and people were to busy avoiding eye contact with Mr. Watson so as to not set him further off, or glaring daggers at broccoli top, who's face had turned red from all the negative attention. Even so, it probably wasn't the best idea to interrupt the teacher, mid rant, and say something along the lines of 'Cool it, it's just a nickname. I kinda think it fits.' He had realized his mistake a few seconds too late, but by then Mr. Watson was pointing towards the door, blue eyes alight with rage.