Admissions

Episode 6: Boobs

Episode 6: Boobs

Oh my fucking god, I'm dying.

I'm seriously, for reals, toats on the verge of death.

Skyler collapsed on a bus bench, wheezing as heat flushed through his body like a wildfire. He'd never been diagnosed with asthma, but in that moment of breathlessness, you couldn't convince him otherwise. His face was flushed hot, all red and sweaty, said sweat making his hair stick to his neck and back. He'd long since whipped his jacket off and tied it around his waist, but now his fucking crotch was sweaty. He had no doubt he'd probably dropped a ball or two on the struggle to the bench.

Was that whistling sound coming from him?

Holy fuck, he thought with a groan, slumping back against the bench. He reached up and pulled out his earbuds just as Kesha's song Woman came on. He tucked it away and stared up at the bright blue sky, the sun a giant fire demon in the sky baking his fragile white skin. Despite the application of sunblock, he could already tell from the stings on his shoulders and nose that he was burnt.

And was that him that smelled like pickles? Because it was starting to gross him out to a whole new level.

He sat there, struggling to catch his breath. He had no idea what had fired him up about working out again this morning. Maybe it was just wanting to one up Jethro, who apparently gotten his card to use the student recreation center on campus, something Skyler was not eager to do considering working out around other people? Yeah, no thanks. It was why he did this whole jogging thing in the morning, alone, when the streets weren't full and there was no one around to harass him.

At least, not most of the time.

A guy was jogging along, slowing down to rake Skyler with a hungry stare. Too exhausted to deal with him, Skyler waved him away, sucking in a deep breath.

"Got a dick, sorry," he panted. The guy scowled at him.

"Fuck you, bitch, I was looking, not offering to take you to dinner," he answered, clearly still not picking up on the fact that Skyler was male. He jogged ahead, his motivation renewed by his offended masculinity, and Skyler felt his lips twitch. He tried to be hurt by the guy's comment, but he was mostly feeling good about the fact that he'd unintentionally inspired the guy to work harder.

Good for him, Skyler thought. Use that rage to beef yourself up a little, pencil dick.

With a deep breath, he heaved himself to his feet, hands on his knees, and he groaned as his bones creaked and his muscles wobbled, jiggly like Jell-O. So much for a morning workout, Skyler thought grimly. He was exhausted. His whole body hurt. He'd pushed himself too hard again.

And even worse? He'd worked off all of Akira's breakfast and now he was starving for something greasy, fatty, and totally not healthy.

He wobbled his way over to the nearest McDonald's, grabbing a couple burgers, a flurry, and a large box of fries. He plugged his headphones back in and walked while he ate out of the bag swinging at his hand. He wasn't sure why he felt so cheerful.

He'd been catcalled on his run. Jethro's existence as a whole still irritated him, but he was trying his best to at least tolerate him. He'd challenged said asshole to a drinking competition and he was not about to be responsible for the kid getting alcohol poisoning. However, Devondre was joining in as well, and Skyler felt a strange thrill at the thought of seeing Dre unhinged. The guy seemed a little uptight sometimes, but every so often, the rebel in him slipped out and Skyler latched onto that. He wanted to see Dre let loose a little.

He slurped at his melty wet flurry, glaring up at the sun in the sky and wondering when the heat from their wicked August summer would fucking disappear.