<3// Pen..Pals? //<> - (A DirkJake Fanfiction)

Pushed Into The Deep End - Chapter 3

Question B was answered near immediately when I got home. 

Shit. 

Shit. 

"We should meet up sometime?" I read over on the computer. 

Shit. 

"We should meet up sometime?" Fuck this could all go wrong. 

"Okay, yeah sure." I reread my reply on facebook.

"Cool! How about the day after tomorrow - a friday? At around 5:00, ummm - Starbucks?"

"Sounds fucking pristine." 

Fuck, fuck, father of a going gone celebrity, fuck.

My newly self-constructed alarm goes off and I bash it with my hand. It doesn't hurt and it doesn't permanently break because I can easily re-construct it since it's my own design. THE UNBREAKABLE ALARM CLOCK. Thank fucking jesus my mind exist to create it. 

No thank you for giving me a set of nerves that rattles every time a new social encounter appears. Especially with Jake. As of late I've been wondering and what the hell will he think of me? The might as well be anti-social introvert with, yes, a decent group of friends, but a love for the overly ironic. The too ironic. The ponies. Then again if he doesn't like Rainbow Dash he can go suck my dick. Everyone fucking loves Rainbow Dash.

Okay, so if you mess up your first real life encounter with a friend you've had since humans ran across the world in their tiny togas, who cares? You just might not talk ever again and all of a sudden your realiance falls into the hands of Roxy entirely because your brother is as useful to you as a blanket to warm up a fish when it's lying on the counter waiting to be gawped at by the nearest toddler. You'll lose a friend and worst case scenario Jake hates you. 

Wow what good unconsolation that was. Now stop talking about yourself in third person, Dirk. 

I get up and go for my closet before slipping on a simple block orange t-shirt, black hoodie, and a pair of jeans. My hair needs some slight adjustment which under timed conditions I can do in about 2 minutes but right now do in about 5 minutes. Hair. Lastly, I grabbed my shades and tucked them far into my backpack. I don't wear my glasses around the house as I've aforementioned. It's stupid. Stupid as a baby monkey going backwards on a pig. Anything ironic I do outside the house as a rule. Bro fills the house with enough ironic shit that I just wish I had a normal house. One side effect is that he thinks I hate irony. That I'm not ironic enough, that I'm not cool and that I'm average. 

He doesn't even step into my room to see how fucking ironic all my horse posters are. He just assumes I'm boring as a person who'd learned how to feel from a robot programmed by aliens. He's just so fucking stupid and oblivious sometimes. If he can see my irony and ignores it fully than he definitely doesn't get to see me at my most ironic. 

So I walk down the stairs, bag slung over my shoulder, and when I see that there's no sound of rustling paper I can tell that Bro isn't even downstairs. DOES HE JUST NOT CARE. He could show some concern. Whatever. I'm used to it. I don't even bother risking trying to find food in the cabinets of the kitchen. There's too much fucking ironic shit every day I can't even tell if I'll be able to actually find food that isn't Cerael (CEREAL WITHOUT THE A IN THE RIGHT PLACE by Bro Strider). 

I just decide to skip out on Bro and on breakfast today. It's not worth the effort of rummaging through merchandise and more merchandise. 

Catching the train at the station, I'm lucky enough to get a seat because it's too early for any commuters to be on the train for once. The entire train car is completely empty save a few strangers. Getting onto the train it also looked like all other train cars were also pretty much empty. Doing the usual task of getting bored of checking my phone for multiple notifications on social media, and moving on to look out the window, I catch sight of this person. Who's vaguely familiar for a second. By vaguely familiar I mean for a second I thought it was fucking Jake and then my heart quieted down and I realized that Jake would have zero reason to be on my train. My nerves must be frying up. 

Friday. Friday. This Friday at 5:00. I'll be as socially awkward and as communicative as a zombie out of a shitty apocalyptic TV show. 

~~~~~~~~~~MAN TIME REALLY FLIES WHEN YOU'RE FALLING DOWN THE STAIRS~~~~~~~~

Everyone in the hallway seems to be going in the exact opposite direction that I am as I battle them to get to my simple main classroom (form room). Bags jolt into backpacks like fucking weights, and  the air seems less breathable as I continue. Finally opening the class room door to get some peace and quiet, I look around at the kids that have fallen directly into their cliques already. 

I'm early once a-fucking-gain, and I know for sure Roxy will not be walking through the door for another 10 minutes. Jane is usually early, in fact, she comes in nearly after I've just sat down. 

"Yo." I greet. 

"Good morning, Strider." Is the british reply. "How're you?" 

"I'm first rate," I pull out my math's homework from my bag and a mechanical pencil. "First rate as a professional middle age doctor in Finland. How was your weekend?" 

"Splendid." The big skeptical teddy bear that is Jane sat down at her usual place of the desk in the front row in front of me, our usual conversation diminished because we both knew that we (or rather just me) had math's homework to get to work on. After that, people began flooding in without question. Rose, John, Dave, Karkat, Sollux, every one in the class (A/N: this is all humanstuck so they're all NOT trolls). And just when the bell was about to ring, Roxy floods in. 

"Good Mondaaaay-bitches." Is Roxy's entrance for the day, smile worn wide on her face framed well in blonde. She plops into the desk next to mine, letting her bag slouch on the floor. "How's stri-dizzle?" 

"Hey, Roxy. I'm first-rate." I say, looking up from the file paper scribbled with numbers all over. 

"Janey?" 

"I'm perfectly fine." 

Roxy clasped her hands, eyes widening. "Okeedokeeeeeee."

Slowly, everyone filters through. Familiar faces all around me look bored and I'm on the next train to snoresville. Is there any real reason we don't have an extra 72 hour weekend? I bury myself in my hoodie and just keep one eye out for the teacher. A few minutes pass and she walks in -  Miss. 'Snowmann'. With her every day 'tis the season. I'm forced to gather the energy to and somehow sit up so I don't look asleep. 

"Good morning class." Her teacher voice greets. Mumbles of good mornings here and there are a myriad reply. My eyes from behind these cool ass ironic shades turn to scaneners, circumspecting everyone's tired ass expressions for a laugh. 

"Everyone, quiet for the attendance." The teacher orders authoratively. Groanings are heard sparcely but everyone's about as quiet as a group of teenagers can be. Terezi is drooling; Karkat's eye bags look like fucking weights on a Monday; Dave's hair is about as rough looking as sandpaper; and then I notice a new kid. 

"Kanaya Maryam?" I squint my eyes at him. 

"Yes." 

"Vriska Serket?" No way. 

"Of course!" 

" Porrim?" 

"Yes." 

"Dirk Strider?" I don't even hear my name. Not it's not him. Whisperings go off. Roxy nudges me except I don't move because I feel like a stuck record. 

"Dirk Strider?" A more questioning saying of my name. The new kid's head peers up questioningly, a raised eyebrow on his tanned face. "Dirk Strider." 

"Holy shit." I say at possibly the worst time. Everyone's eyes move to me. Even Jake English's.