eighteen

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"i assume allison and i are better people than you guys, huh? us weirdos..." brian shakes his head, tears forming. he turns and looks to allison. "would you do that to me?"

"i don't have any friends."

"well if you did?"

"no—i don't think the kind of friends i'd have, would mind."

"i just wanna tell, each of you, that i wouldn't do that. i wouldn't, and i will not! because i think that's real shitty."

"your friends wouldn't mind because they look up to us." claire, clueless, talks to the boy.

brian laughs at her. "you're so conceited, claire. you're so conceited. you're so, like, full of yourself, why are you like that?"

claire starts to cry again. "i'm not saying that to be conceited! i hate it! i hate having to go along with everything my friends say!"

"well then why do you do it?"

"i don't know, you don't understand. you really don't. you're not friends with the same kind of people that andy and i are friends with! you know, you just don't understand the pressure that they can put on you!"

brian is shocked. "i don't understand what? you think i don't understand pressure, claire?"
well fuck you! fuck you!" brian hides his head in his arm because he doesn't wanna show his tears. "you wanna know why i'm here today?" he mumbles, still in his sleeve. no one answers. "do you?!"

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐛™️ [✓]Where stories live. Discover now