space dust || boyf riends

six

I try to speak, but nothing comes out. Fuck this. Fuck these kids. Fuck the smiles they're struggling to hold back-this is my trauma we're talking about. Of course I'm going to sit here frozen still, just like this, as memories I tried to block out come back.

It isn't fucking funny. It makes me want to curl up and die. I just want to curl up and fucking die.

I force myself to stand up; my body feels so heavy. Forget how it feels when I grab my backpack-that feels like I'm being forced to hold up the sky. This is awful. This is so fucking awful, I hate this.

Rich grabs my arm, "Where are you going?"

"Bathroom." I say. He frowns. I feel like I owe him an explanation, so I come up with something on the spot. "I'm, uh...having my period."

And with that, I walk away. Jesus fuck, Jeremy. You couldn't have thought of a better excuse? You're such an idiot.

Luckily, when I get there, the bathroom's empty. I check every time when I decide to stick around and hide in a stall. Today, I decide to hide in the big stall, the same one I ate lunch in yesterday. Damn, that was yesterday. It feels like it was centuries ago.

I just vibe on the floor for a while, I guess, attempting to keep myself grounded before I spiral into a panic attack. It isn't helping a whole lot, but whatevs. I hear the door open, and I go completely still. Someone being in here is honestly the least of my concern, though; I'm just trying to avoid thinking about it. Just don't think about Brooke. Don't think about Brooke.

That doesn't help. I start thinking. Long blonde hair, my sweater, that reassuring, happy smile, the passenger's seat-

No! Stop. No more of that.

I thought that maybe I could have one good day, but no. I had to find out that everyone just makes fun of me behind my back. It's hard to forget what happened when people at school know what happened, when they know how fucked up I am.

Wait a minute, what the hell is that noise? Is someone really in here? And are they...peeing? Ew. Maybe the bathroom isn't the best place to have a breakdown.

The door opens again. Great, more guys have come in here to either pee or bother me or take a shit. It's so annoying. I hate it here.

"Hey," wait, it's Rich's voice. Forget what I said a second ago. "are you in here?"

"Last stall." I catch myself saying.

I hear silence, and then some footsteps. Then I hear my crush again. "Can I...come in?"

"Yeah," I mumble. "I'm not actually having my period."

I get up and unlock the stall door, and there's Rich. We stare at each other for a few moments. It's so awkward. I finally notice our height difference-he's shorter than me, but he's still not the shortest guy I've liked, which is weird.

I look down. I don't want him to see me. I'm pathetic. I can't even handle one conversation about it without getting what my therapist would call triggered; I'm just that screwed up.

"I'm sorry. They're douchebags and you don't have to sit with us again," he says. Finally, something I can fucking agree with. "I just...I really do like you. I don't wanna screw this up before it starts."

He likes me. Does he mean that in a friend way, or in a crush way?

He definitely meant it in a friend way! Are you crazy, Jeremy? He stopped holding your hand at the lunch table when they noticed, he denied being your boyfriend; he's probably straight.

I keep my gaze fixated on the floor, on his shoes; black combat boots. Of course-I haven't known Rich for too long, but those boots really suit his entire...vibe.

"Are you okay?" He asks, resting a hand on my arm. He needs to stop being so nice to me. This is why I have trust issues. One moment they're nice, then they're mean in the next.

I nod. "Yeah. I'm okay."

"Alright, good," he says, taking my hand into his again. Goddamnit. "you ready to head back?"

"Um, actually...I'm good," I finally look at him again. "just go. I'll see you in class,"

"You sure?"

"I'm sure. Just go," It comes off a little harsh, but nowhere near scary.

Rich nods and lets go of my hand. "Alright. I'll see you in class."

I watch him go. I watch the bathroom door close, and then I'm finally alone again. Being alone is so nice. I can just think-I could panic if I wanted to. There wouldn't be any interruptions, except for maybe the next bell.

A piece of green paper flutters to the floor from right above me. I spoke too soon; I'm not alone. I pick it up, unfold it, and I read over it; it's another space pun written in that familiar, messy handwriting. It's stupid enough to put a stupid smile on my stupid face.

Curious, I peek underneath the stall. I see white basketball shoes and the cuffs of someone's jeans. Those are not Rich's shoes or jean cuffs (he does not wear cuffed jeans, sadly), but somebody else's-a boy's. Rich just left, too.

If Rich isn't leaving the notes, then who is?

Before I can figure it out, this person leaves as quickly as I noticed him.

Huh.

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