[✅Completed] Permanence - A Boyf riends Fanfiction

Ch. 18 - Faulty

Brooke and I stood outside of the state prison, a lit match in hand and cheap masks on our faces.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" She asked, turning her head away from the flickering flame to look at me.

"Uhm- not really."

"wHAT!?" Brooke screamed, blowing out the match.

"Shh- keep your voice down!"

"Sorry." She replied, looking around at the gate of the prison, which separated us from Christine. "We're not going to be able to get in."

"What? What do you mean?"

Funny thing is, is that I knew what she meant. I shoved her shoulder, just harshly enough so that she'd drop the match, which set some of the grass around her feet on fire. I turned around and started walking off, turning my head so I could watch whatever was going on behind me while I walked.

I didn't mean for this to happen, but it ended up burning her a bit. I think. (I actually don't know, I just heard her scream, and it didn't help that I could barely see her, since I walked, like, way too far).

Random, isn't it?

Well, hi, my name's Michael Mell—

And I'll never, ever do things in order.

                                        *  *  *

The very next day, I walked onto campus, to see almost every passerby piled up by the 'news board', which was really just a bunch of piled papers about job listings and shit for students.

I mean, I'm not shocked about why they're there. I know that people know about it— it's all over social media. And now, it's right in front of them.

I leaned myself against the wall, watching the sluts and idiots talk amongst themselves.

I should've seen it coming, because I didn't even bother trying to play along with the whole "I'm so scared because there's a fucking killer in our building!" Act, but someone came up to me.

Fucking Dustin Kropp.

I hadn't seem too much of him around (except for in high school— yeah, he was both my weed dealer and I saw him occasionally with Jenna), but I'd seen enough of him to recognize him.

He's Christine's cousin, right?

"Yo," He said, approaching me. His tentative steps were noteable, and I sure as hell thought he was going to rat me out, since why the fuck would anyone else talk to me?

I'm a freak now, I'm not cool.

Leather jackets, tattoos, some cheap-ass letterman bag...

I looked like fucking Connor Murphy.
Just... worse.

"Hi. What's up?" I asked in response, pushing myself straight up with my elbow so I was standing and not leaning anymore.

"Nothin' much. Michael, right?"

"Bingo," I let out a small chuckle. "I'm shocked you remember."

"Yeah, yeah. My memory isn't that terrible." Dustin replied. His lips were curled into a smirk and his cheeks were just barely dusted with a light pink color.

"Right. Anyway, why're you talking to me again?" I inquired, not breaking eyecontact as I adjusted my feet so I wasn't in an uncomfortable position.

He shrugged, "I dunno."

"Do you want money or something? Well, sorry dude, I'm broke--"

"No!" Dustin yelled, causing a couple heads to turn and face us. "I mean- no. No, I don't... I don't want anything."

I raised an eyebrow and noticed his cheeks grow a darker shade of red then before. I assume it's because of all the weird looks we were getting just a minute ago, but I might be wrong.

"Then what is it that you do want?"

"Well... I wanted to ask you if... y'know, you wanted to hang out or something today... My dorm-- once classes are over... Number 1776."

I simply nodded and he grinned as a response, before adjusting his bag and continuing on his merry way to his next class.

I decided to do the same thing: going to my lecture, plopping down in some random seat and doodling the entire time (It's fun, by the way. Rule 1: never listen to teachers or professors and focus on your art skills. It'll pay off in the end, trust me).

And it was only until halfway through the class that someone slipped me a note. I didn't see who it came from, but I opened up the small, folded paper.

'Yeah, I know you wrote that letter, Michael, but I'm the killer everyone's looking for.
Stop being such a fucking attention whore.'

Oh, boy. And I thought I'd get a break.