[✓] dangerous sarcasm → spookyface

CHAPTERFIFTYONE

CHAPTER FIFTY ONE

Pencil scratches sounded as Spooky completed his lab write up hastily, the sun not too far from setting outside. The paragraph was lengthy, and the redhead deemed it good enough to turn in as he clicked his pen and left it on the table beside him. Placing his physics binder inside of his bookbag, Spooky took the opportunity to lay back in his bed, sighing dramatically as he stretched out his arms.

The thought of sleep brought Blurryface to Spooky's mind. The boy hoped that the brunet was able to get sleep tonight, as a tired (and grumpy) Blurryface wasn't very fun to deal with, especially when he acted like he was practically dead.

Despite what some would conclude, the redhead did really care about his boyfriend, and he enjoyed being in the shorter boy's company, just because of his personality. He was cocky and rude, but so much so that you could put jokes alongside that and have a good time. He also liked the softer side of Blurryface, the deeper version that was basically the deteriorated version of his tough outer shell. Or when he laughed, and suddenly the person that was telling a young kid to get lost a half a second ago was now gone and replaced with someone that could enjoy little bits of life. Blurryface was a unique person, much in contrast to Spooky's pretty basic personality. They'd only been close for a few months, but the brown eyed boy felt differently. He'd give his world to Blurry if the boy asked, and it was a little worrying but at the end of the day, Spooky couldn't help it.

His phone buzzed beside him, interrupting the brown eyed boy's train of thought, and he looked at it to see that Devotee was calling him.

"Hello?" Spooky Jim wasn't used to legitimately talking on the phone, the only person he ever talked to on the phone was really his mom.

"Shit, Spooky, it's Blurry, he's—" Devotee's breath was audibly heavy, and the red haired boy sat up quickly, concerned.

"What? Did something happen?"

"Fuck, he's on the floor like, passed out or some shit and he won't wake up. He's breathing, but like he just won't get up? I don't know what to do, shit."

"Where are you?" Spooky mumbled, getting out of his bed and slipping some shoes on, Devotee now on speaker.

"I'm at school, I was coming back from detention and he's just in the bathroom against a wall and—"

"Okay, shut up. I'll be there in like, 10 minutes," Spooky grabbed the phone and put it back to his ear, padding downstairs quickly. "Thank you, D."

"Yeah." The call ended. A pit formed in the pale boy's stomach, and all the dread that was bottled up from months ago when Spooky learned about the week was about to be let out. His mind was on autopilot, his entire body started to ache.

Spooky made his way hastily to the garage door. "Mom! I have to go, I'll be back at some point!"

"Where do you think you're going?"

Spooky turned, "I have to take a friend home." The statement wasn't a full lie, but if he told his mom he was making sure his boyfriend wasn't in a coma or something, he'd probably get yelled at to no end. His breathing was accelerated, hat lazily on his head and keys shaking against his fingertips anxiously.

"Oh? Okay, I guess. Get back quickly, please. I'm tired of you being gone all the time." His mother sighed, staring at her son upsettingly.

"Yeah, alright. I have to go!" the boy yelled, opening the door.

"Drive safely."

He was out quickly after the words left his mom's lips, cursing her silently as he rushed to his car for making him that much more late. His brain went from being frank to being completely clouded. Different scenarios came across his train of thought, and they only got worse and worse as he kept on the road. He wished he could scream, he wished he could snap his fingers and be there as soon as possible. Instead he drove with nerve, trying his hardest to take deep breaths.