# Bad Bitch Stella Chapter 3

Chapter 3
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[Anon]
"Remind me again why I'm here?"
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["Stella"]
"Haha, to wish I was still there, of course."
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I keep staring in the mirror, waiting for the joke to get funnier.
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...
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It doesn't.
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I take a look at my phone, probably for the hundredth time in the last hour. She still hasn't seen my message.
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God, what the fuck is the time in France? Waiting for her to come online is always the worst.
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For the fear that eventually she'll turn from "Stella" to "Stella, last seen online way too fucking long ago".
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With a sigh I turn from the unshaven scruffy face that is now my reflection, and return to the main room, to my laptop.
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There's cold autumn rain pattering on the window, the only sound that keeps me company.
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Well, that's not entirely correct. There's also an electric heater I bought, filling the room with a constant low buzzing. But I don't even notice it anymore.
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I often wondered if there actually is going to be heating in the building during the winter - what, with barely a month till sub-zero temperatures would hit. It was a coin toss really, here in Skin Row.
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Like most nights, to pass the time I've been reading an ebook called "Interspecies relationships for dummies". Either that, or endlessly shuffling a deck of cards that I have no use for.
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The book more or less details how to deal with dinos as a human, like if you tried to date a carnivore. There were some more interesting tidbits in there too, for example how to - or how not to - start human-dino family.
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Basically, a human can't knock a dino up under normal circumstances. Which was good to know, like half a year into a relationship with one. There were omniceptives, and it allegedly also had a slim chance of happening during the peak of estrus.
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Well actually, according to this thing it varied between species. Male dinos also had better chances at human girls, cause they were fertile all year long.
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Furthermore, STDs were supposedly impossible to pass to a member of the other species.
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Fascinating.
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Such were the facts I came to know as the year progressed.
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I had some notions of what the time difference between our timezones should be, but it wasn't all that easy to coordinate these conversations. Stella had all kinds of family events and work-related appearances to make, so it was usually me sitting on my bum, waiting for her.
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Truth be told, I wasn't at all looking forward to today's talk. These latter ones felt only a few shades short of an interrogation, trying to get anything out of Stella. Which was, well, pretty awkward.
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It wasn't like she didn't want to talk to me. Only that it was mostly her babbling about anime and stuff. I mean I guess that's her main area of interest, it was more like... Not a conversation I'd have with someone I'm dating.
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Plus I'm working a morning shift tomorrow. I'll be lucky if I can get in six hours of sleep, if that.
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Murmuring obscenities to myself, I reach for my mug of instant coffee and start to idly scroll through previous messages.
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Geez, it's really been a week since we last talked? Wow, I couldn't have called that.
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And almost another since the time before that.
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Wait, no. That was only me asking if she's gonna come online to no answer.
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...
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I scroll up more and more, rewinding months in my head. When did things get this bad, really?
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Scroll, scroll.
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Scroll, scroll.
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With a click I stop at a random spot, a few weeks into the summer apparently. Like just after we've graduated.
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Ugh, I guess more like after Stella had graduated.
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Having been severely beat up just a couple of short months prior has put me at a pretty big disadvantage. I could barely attend classes due to quote un-quote suspected cranial trauma.
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First I thought that was the nurse's way of calling me a dumbass, but no. I've had really bad migraines in the first few weeks. They eventually went away, but I had to excuse myself from school often. It was bad.
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Even when I could attend class, I didn't really want to. Trish enacted a personal vendetta against me, trying to get me into any and all sort of trouble she could think of. These almost exclusively backfired on her, at least the real far-fetched ones, but it was enough to make me not want to show my face in public.
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Stella tried to shore up the damage, going out of her way to pick up my daily homework and bringing it over to my place. All that accomplished was an ever-growing stack of papers collecting dust on my desk. In the beginning I've tried my best to finish them all, if only for her sake, but I soon found that missing half your classes means that you'll have no idea what the curriculum is remotely about.
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Unsurprisingly, I've ended up failing both chem and math, along with music.
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Yeah music, for real.
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I can't even begin to describe the shame I've felt about that.
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I wasn't the only one who had to retake his last year though. Fang was just as miserable as me, if not more so. I've only heard rumors, but I think she had to see a psychiatrist twice a week. She also started wearing long-sleeved shirts - in the summer -, which was a clear indicator that she started preening and-or cutting herself.
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Now that was really fucking fucked up.
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None of us attended prom either. I've felt - and still feel - like an asshole about that. I knew it would have been special to Stella. She may have acted like it's no big deal, that it was a smart thing to not bring the drama there, but... It's a once in a lifetime event, and because of me she had to miss it.
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My parents were hysterical about the whole ordeal.
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Dad threatened to disown me, and I can only surmise that it took a week of begging by Mom to get him to change his mind. They cut off the money all the same.
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As such, I had to get a job. Pronto. I didn't have any marketable skills, so, cashier's life for me. Thankfully there were about a dozen run-down shitty liquor stores in the area, one of them had to eventually take me.
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To a certain extent having an income of my own meant that I could splurge on Stella, who, against all odds sticked with me. She was adamant that we were gonna have a nice summer together.
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...
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And uh, we kinda did.
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At least in the beginning.
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Kinda.
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Scrolling through some of the conversations from back then, a particular one catches my attention.
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It's from before I told my parents about my failure, and way before Stella moved to France.
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[Past Stella]
"hey sweeite <3"
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[Past Stella]
"how was your day?"
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I've grown used to being called sweetie by then, though I remember smiling like a retard every time.
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[Past Anon]
"it was ok hbu"
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She typed for a while, then paused, then typed again, repeating this process only to stop altogether and call me instead.
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I took a second to pick up, alarms going off in my head left and right. I knew that whatever it was, it definitely wouldn't be good.
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[Past Anon]
"H-hey?"
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Silence.
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...
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[Past Stella]
"Met with Dad today."
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I didn't really know what that meant back then. Her dad? Like, that raised so many questions.
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Was it just a quick visit or something? They didn't live nearby or else Stella wouldn't have had to live in the dorms. In fact, what was gonna happen to her now that she's graduated? Was that what their meeting was about? Was she gonna move home?
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I figured she could move in with me, but I could see why she wouldn't want to. Skin Row wasn't a nice place to live in, to say the least. Especially for a young female, and a dino at that.
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Still, shouldn't I have been there? I mean, I haven't had the chance to meet her parents till then, so what gives?
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[Past Anon]
"Uh-huh... So um, that's nice?"
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Her sigh was audible even through the phone lines. I could practically see her troubled expression.
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[Past Stella]
"Ugh, no, Anon, it really wasn't. Dad's a total dick."
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[Past Anon]
"Then why did you--"
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[Past Stella]
"I had to, okay? Believe me, I wouldn't have if there was any other way. That's why I didn't ask you to come, cause he's this..."
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[Past Stella]
"Ugh, he's just a big jerkoff, alright?"
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Hearing Stella swear was something new. I've maybe only heard her badmouth someone during the whole Fang-fiasco, but that was it.
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[Past Anon]
"Is he really that bad?"
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Another long pause.
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[Past Stella]
"I'll tell you tomorrow, okay? I super promise."
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[Past Stella]
"I just don't want to do this over the phone."
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It was then my turn to sit in silence.
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There was clearly a story there, and apparently it was a big fucking deal. I was dying to know what could have gotten so wrong between the two of them that she wouldn't even want to see her own father.
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[Past Anon]
"Okay..."
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...
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...
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Back then we never really had an awkward silence like the one that followed. I guessed that was good a time as any to bring up the parent thing on my end.
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I took a deep breath, bracing myself for the conversation that was ought to follow. I remember being stressed about the situation, and not really knowing why.
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I mean, Stella is a smart girl - kind of -, so she must have had some pretty good guesses about my situation. It wasn't like some Earth-shattering news, disappointing my parents.
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As a fellow weeb retard, she surely had some experience with being a disappointment. Then again it wasn't every day you fail your last year of high school.
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It was more like, what was gonna happen to us? I'd have to stay here for one more year at a minimum, while she should have gone to college. There were a few in the area, but... We've never really talked about that stuff. I didn't even know what she wanted to study.
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I can recall very clearly how suddenly I felt like I knew so very little about Stella. As if I've been too preoccupied with the relationship itself, rather than the person I was in a relationship with. If that makes any sense.
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Before I could muse on that for long, Stella's voice brought me back to reality.
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[Past Stella]
"Guess what I'm wearing!"
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[Past Anon]
"Clothes?"
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[Past Stella]
"Haha, Anon, that was a terrible guess!"
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[Past Stella]
"Wanna see?"
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Well, who cared about all that existential dread when there was dino tiddy to be had? Some may have seen college in their futures, but I saw a pair of shapely yellow breasts.
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[Past Anon]
"Hell yeah!"
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She giggled at my enthusiastic response, and I could just about imagine her blushing, tail curling up on her leg.
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Afterwards Stella dropped the call, and I took the opportunity to swiftly grab a tissue, hopping into bed.
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Her message couldn't come soon enough.
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...
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Just as I considered if I was being left blue balled - again - the pic arrived, and oh my.
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Although I was expecting full frontal nudity, the picture instead depicted Stella's back from shoulder level, laying down on her bed and surrounded by her armada of plushies.
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The picture made it very clear that she wasn't wearing any clothes though.
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To this day, I swear if I zoom in hard enough I can maybe see a hint of her boobies from the side.
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The shit-eating smirk on her face said it all, complete with her tail covering up her juicy bits with cold dead precision.
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What a damn tease.
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Still, her curvy body was - and still is - more than enough to excite me.
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So much so that I immediately sent her a message, asking for more. My wish was granted pretty quick, as if she was anticipating this very event. I don't even know why but I found that idea kinda hot. Something something personal bad bitch something something.
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The second one, actually a short video, was of her butt - though still partially covered by her tail of course. This time she used one of her clawed hands to grab her meaty parts, jiggling them around playfully.
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Oh, what I wouldn't have given to be able to do that myself. Or bury my face in it.
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I could seriously accept dying like that.
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Death by weeb ass.
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I didn't even need to ask for the third pic, and I was already greeted to a cute scaly tummy and pair of tastefully protruding pelvic bones.
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[Past Stella]
"pick a direction ;)"
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[Past Stella]
"up or down?"
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The message gives me a pleasant chuckle, and I almost spill my now cold coffee over my lap.
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Damn.
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I better not, these are my last good pants before I need to do the fucking laundry. Just another item on the list of things I've been putting off.
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Where was I...? Oh yeah.
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Honestly, I was very glad that she included options cause at first I've had no idea what she meant. Wouldn't have been the first time I ruined the mood by being a retard. And horny. A horny retard.
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[Past Anon]
"up"
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[Past Stella]
"u rly like them that much? :$"
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[Past Anon]
"tits or gtfo"
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Wow, Anon, what a playa you was in the past. Truly the way to woo a maiden. Well done.
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Thankfully I got another picture instead of being called a jerk, albeit still not of her breasts.
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To her credit she did move the camera upwards, and they were sort of in the frame, hidden under her arm. The smirk was replaced with a wink and childish stuck-out tongue.
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Only then did I realize the subtle nip-slip between her fingers.
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[Past Anon]
"new fave"
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[Past Stella]
"<3"
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[Past Stella]
"prove it"
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Once again my brain needed a second to process that she probably didn't mean a three-hundred-word essay on the subject.
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While I was jerking it a little already, for the sake of the picture I put it back into my boxers. I remember wanting to play at the teasing game too, as a form of revenge.
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[Past Stella]
"so big <3 <3"
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My chest positively doubled in size with pride.
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I guess it still feels good to read it even now too, but it doesn't cheer me up that much anymore.
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[Past Anon]
"4 u ;)"
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El oh el.
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[Past Stella]
"aww but its so sad in ur pants"
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[Past Stella]
"i hav a better place for it"
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[Past Anon]
"fsgds"
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[Past Stella]
"u gonna come?"
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Seems like Stella understood my predicament exactly.
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[Past Stella]
"make a mess for me <3 <3"
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There's a few minutes pause in the conversation, so I guess I really did come.
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After that we just made plans to meet the next day, and "do it for real". Heh.
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My memories are kinda hazy, but I remember some stuff. Like, not the actual doing-it-for-real part, but the conversation about her dad, my dad, and what our future would look like.
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Or uh, what we wanted it to look like at the time. If only we knew...
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With a grunt I get up and take my still untouched mug of cold coffee to the kitchen. Figure I might as well reheat it, at least it'll give me something to do. With some luck I can even focus my thoughts on something less depressing.
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Like...
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...
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...
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Try as I might, watching the slowly rotating beverage puts me into this numb robotic state where I can't help but recall those days.
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* * *
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It's summer and I'm sitting in the grass near the beach.
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The ground is warm, very comfortable.
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Little blades of grass caress my palms playfully as the breeze picks up.
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The scent of the ocean on the wind, a bit salty maybe. The good kind of salty.
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The sun is getting low, casting its long, shimmering reflection over the waves.
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It's one of those days when it can almost feel like summer is never going to end.
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There are seagulls screeching in the distance.
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They're not annoying, more complimenting the noise coming from nearby vendors and the few groups of youth scattered around them.
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There aren't a lot of people out by now, guess the kids are getting bored of playing outside.
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I don't really mind.
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Closing my eyes I bask in the glow, enjoying the warmth spreading around my body and seeping into my bones.
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There's a picnic basket next to me, filled with sandwitches I've made. I want to impress Stella, even if it's only a little something.
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It doesn't hurt to be nice.
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I'm currently waiting for her to make an appearance too.
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Even if the topic we were about to discuss wasn't a jolly one, maybe we could have a date afterwards. I'm kinda excited to learn about her family though.
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I've always imagined them as this token suburb-middle-class family, living some hundred miles away. Maybe her dad could have been this comic collector geek, and her mom could have been a writer. Or maybe a kindergarten teacher.
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I don't know where I'm getting these specific ideas, I'm just looking for an explanation for Stella's bubbly demeanor and weird hobbies.
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Opening my eyes again I scan the walkway by the shoreline, and sure as eggs and bacon, Stella is just appearing from behind a cotton-candy stall - surprisingly without having bought anything.
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She's wearing a deep blue sundress, complete with a straw hat. She waves at me, and I wave back, a huge smile appearing on my face.
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As with the waves, a few of her scales reflect the waning sunshine, making it look like her very being is emitting this pleasant, golden light.
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It's all so...
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Perfect.
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In this very moment, despite all uncertainly, I feel like I already know what I want our future to be: getting married.
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We may barely be out of highschool - not even that on my end -, and maybe our relationship isn't even a year old, and frankly who cares if we haven't even said the L-word... In the here and now I wish I could have evenings like this for all the rest of my life.
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I tear my eyes from the scene, trying to gather my bearings.
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Like uh... Yeah okay. Let's not be weird.
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Not like I have a ring.
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Or could afford one.
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...
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The wind picks up again and Stella has to keep her hat from flying away, its wide brim awkwardly flopping around.
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I can hear her cute yelp from all the way over here.
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Hastily I get up from the ground, closing the distance between us.
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[Stella]
"Hey sweetie!"
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I greet her with a hug and kiss, helping her keep the straw hat in place.
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We exchange a few pleasantries as I make sure to compliment her dress, then make our way back to the grassy field I've been sitting in.
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I offer her a sandwich, jokingly bragging that I've made them all by myself as if it was some huge achievement.
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Stella rolls her eyes but giggles, accepting the snack. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside.
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I'm not sure what's with me today. I mean, we've had dates like this for a while now.
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Maybe it's the calm before the storm cause I know hardships are coming. Or maybe it's the catharsis of finally not having to show my face at school, at least till summer is over.
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I don't know. I just feel extra nice today, being here with Stella.
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Having made the realization just a day prior that I should put effort into getting to actually know Stella, I ask her about her favorite color, favorite movies, what kinda music she likes - other than anime OSTs -, and so on.
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Surprisingly, she has a soft spot for early 90's rappers.
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Afterwards we talk a bit more about nothing in particular, watching the setting sun.
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Its upper half is still visible on the horizon as Stella brings out the loaded gun.
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She clears her throat to get my attention, fixing her hat one last time.
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[Stella]
"Anon, there's this thing I wanna tell you."
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I get a little alarmed that she's using my name, but I don't pay it much heed. I know this is a hard topic for her.
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[Anon]
"About your dad?"
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[Stella]
"Y-yeah..."
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She looks very unsure, as if trying to find the best words.
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With a sigh, she begins.
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[Stella]
"So you um, you know I'm from France, right?"
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My brows shoot up with mach one speed.
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What.
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I certainly did not know that.
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I mean...
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What?
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Stella notices my confusion, offering an explanation with haste.
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[Stella]
"We moved here when I was little, like about eight I think?"
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[Stella]
"I learned English and all that, so I mean it's okay you didn't know, I just thought--"
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[Stella]
"A-anyway, we..."
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She takes a deep breath, bracing herself for whatever's coming next.
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[Stella]
"We only moved here cause Dad got a job offer here. He was a ranger, you know like, a hunter or something?"
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[Stella]
"So he brought Mom and me along too."
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[Stella]
"That's how I got to attend Volcano High. It was um..."
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[Stella]
"It um..."
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The last few strands of light fade away as the sun finally blips under the horizon.
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There are some lampposts around, and in their flickering light I see how stern Stella's face got. It's obvious that reliving these memories must be painful for her.
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[Stella]
"It was okay till Dad got into a bad crowd."
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[Stella]
"Like, I think some drug dealers or something. I-I'm not sure."
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[Stella]
"They got him smuggling tranquilizers and stuff, and of course people found out."
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[Stella]
"He was arrested, and Mom--"
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Her body shudders again.
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This is getting seriously intense, and I'm not sure if I should interject. Is it better to let her tell the story, even if that means tearing up old wounds?
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...
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In the end, I stay quiet.
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[Stella]
"Mom sued for a divorce. She wanted to go back to France and take me too. But I...!"
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[Stella]
"I've already made friends here! I didn't want to let her take my life away!"
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[Stella]
"I couldn't stay with Dad either, not like I wanted to."
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[Stella]
"But I still didn't want to go with Mom..."
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[Stella]
"So we fought... A lot..."
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[Stella]
"It was- It was just a mess!"
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[Stella]
"A-And-- And--"
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She hides her face with her hands, seemingly unable to go on anymore.
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I just hug her tightly, with little to no idea what to say. What could anyone say to make this situation better?
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What do people in the movies say?
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[Anon]
"Stella, is there--"
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* * *
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BEEP BEEP BEEP
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The mechanic chime of the microwave tears me back to the present.
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My thoughts scatter. The visage of Stella and the beach turns into a barely lit kitchen, the distant screeching of seagulls into the sounds of the rain, and the pleasant warmth of the sun into the nigh lukewarm room temperature my shitty heater can produce.
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I get my coffee, reminding myself that the past is just that, the past. There's nothing I, or anyone else, can do about it now.
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With the help of caffeine I push the thoughts from my mind. Raptor Jesus has blessed me with a minor miracle, where my reheated beverage falls square in between annoyingly cold and tongue-burningly hot - just right for drinking.
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Really, this has to be the first thing to go my way this entire week.
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Being slightly less irritated than I was before, I return to the living room.
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Stella still hasn't seen my message.
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I consider sending her some bullshit excuse and calling it a night. Hell, I even consider just simply calling it a night without letting her know. Cause it's really starting to look like she isn't coming.
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In the end I dismiss the notion and slump into the seat, opening the next chapter of "Interspecies relationships for dummies".
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"Dinner and toilet etiquette. See 126th page for herbivore tips."
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Wow, that's gonna be a good one! I've always wanted to know how to deal with some dinos' elephant-sized dumps.
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...No. I haven't.
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Desperately I check my phone again, silently praying for a sign that Stella will come online.
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[Anon]
"Come ooooonnn Stella, I don't want to read about literal dino shit!"
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...
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Well, looks like I ran out of my miracle quota with the coffee.
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I don't even know what's compelling me so hard to read this. It's either my autism, or knowing that there's nothing I could do instead that would matter to anything anyway.
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All right.
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It's half past midnight. Let's wait another half hour.
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Then I'll go the fuck to sleep.
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* * *
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Naturally, the half hour goes by with no Stella, souring my mood further.
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I check my messages and alarm one last time so I can wake up bright and early like a good little slave, then move my ass to bed.
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I end up tossing and turning for quite a while, no doubt thanks to the coffee.
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That, plus in my mind I keep going back to that conversation on the beach, making connections that I haven't yet. Not back then anyway.
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Maybe, just maybe, I should have known that Stella meeting her father was bad news. Him being a felon and whatnot.
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Maybe I should have paid more attention to her saying she had no choice but to see him.
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Really, how did I not add one and two together? She could no longer stay in the dorms, but neither could she afford an apartment.
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With her father in jail, her mother was probably her lawful guardian or something. In France.
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Which means that Stella's only option of staying was to get her father to, well, if not let her live with him, but at least to contribute to her renting someplace.
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But seeing how bad their relationship was and Stella's reaction to meeting him, it should have been obvious that neither happened.
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I guess I figured that she could live with me if she wanted, not thinking about inane things like "family" and "law" and "illegal migrant status".
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...
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Eventually, tiredness overtakes me and these fleeting memories cease to form any coherent thread. My last few thoughts form around the usual dread of having to work tomorrow.
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* * *
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Fortunately my sleep is mostly uninterrupted, only once do I wake up to take a piss. In fact, come morning I manage to get out of bed a few minutes before my alarm would have gone off.
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It puts me into a surprisingly good mood, that for once I don't start the day stiff as a board.
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The rain has let up too, and I decide to ride the feel-good-train long as I can, exchanging my morning round of shitposting in favor of a walk.
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Part of my routine though that I don't skip is turning the top card up on my deck of cards, as if I could predict how my day was going to turn out. I never could, but maybe someday.
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I consider checking my messages too, but that'll wait till I get home after work.
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A quick shower, grabbing my phone, wallet, and keys, then out the door I am. My empty stomach protests at skipping breakfast, but I can probably get a hot-dog on my way to the store.
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It's a relatively short distance, though I usually opt for the bus. Fewer chances of getting stabbed, mugged, or both.
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However there shouldn't be many people out this early, so I can risk the walk today. The hobos and junkies are still sleeping, serial killers done with their shifts.
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I deliberately pay no mind to the shitty rundown quality of the building as I exit, trying to keep a good note.
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There's that unmistakable "cold smell" to the air. Like, the smell of smoke that doesn't normally fester in Skin Row combined with the musk of rotten leaves left on the road.
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But it also has a unique sharpness to it. The kind you only feel stepping out into the cold.
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On other days I probably would grumble about it, but today it fills me with, well I don't know... Not exactly joy, but I find it nice nevertheless. Especially with the smell of rain painting it a pleasant undertone.
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I push any and all thoughts and worries away, trying to keep my head empty. It's a partial success as I manage to not focus on the whole Stella-thing, but the closer I get to my destination the more I feel like turning back.
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It's only knowing that my livelihood is at stake that keeps me going.
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As planned, I get a hot-dog from a decently not-shady-looking vendor. Fortunately, its meat content is also only decently questionable.
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With still some time till my shift starts I take the luxury of sitting down in one of the few parks that litter Skin Row. It's all vandalized of course, and there are scores of homeless sleeping on the benches and between the bushes, but it'll make do.
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There's a statue in the middle, depicting whoever-I-don't-care in a heroic pose, striking their stone banner. With all the damage the poor thing has suffered, I can't even tell if it's supposed to be a human or a dino. If there was a sigil on the banner in the past, it's gone now too.
​
Sitting there, chewing on my hot-dog, listening to the snoring and mumbling of hobos, it's strangely calming. Before I know it, my thoughts have already wandered back to the past...
​
* * *
​
I'm in a dark room, filled with people in strange clothes.
​
It's a masquerade.
​
I, too, have a costume on. An old military uniform with a bandana and eyepatch, complete with a half assed drawn-on goatee.
​
There's music thumping from giant speakers, lights and lasers flashing every few seconds.
​
I feel anxious, uneasy. Too many bodies around me.
​
There's Stella, dressed like a witch, beckoning me to go dance with her.
​
I don't want to.
​
I don't want to do anything.
​
Our talk on the beach ended with Stella dropping the bomb about her having to go back to France. Ever since, I didn't really feel like life was worth living.
​
She swore up and down that it's only going to be one short year till I graduate, that the distance won't make much of a difference anyway... I just...
​
I didn't want to pull the plug and let her go, but I feel betrayed to say the least. The worst part is, I know it wasn't up to her so I shouldn't blame Stella but...
​
I don't think I've felt this bad since Fang beat me up.
​
This party we're at right now is supposed to be our last fun night together. A farewell party for the students moving out of the dorms this year.
​
I'm not sure why I've bothered to show.
​
Gripping my bottle of cheap beer, I let her drag me to the dance floor.
​
Afterall, it doesn't really matter what I do. Nothing really matters anymore.
​
Well, one thing maybe.
​
I've bought a brand new deck of tarot cards for Stella. It's a cheesy one with anime figures on it, but she might like it. One personal touch I've added was replacing the Lovers with her old card, the one she tore in half.
​
It was quite the adventure, tracking down which junkyard the school dumps its stuff to, and paying the right people so they'd let me rummage through it. It was a shot in the dark, truth be told.
​
But it was all worth it.
​
I'll give it to her tomorrow at the airport, with the hopes that I'll become her forget me not. It was a bit sappy, but I've wanted to make the gesture anyway.
​
Meanwhile we've made it to the middle of the room, several bodies pressing up against ours, music so loud that I can barely hear myself think.
​
Stella seems to be in a good mood though, and we join the mass of writhing bodies. I absolutely don't know what I'm doing, but I've once read on a lithuanian welding-enthusiast internet forum that bobbing my knees to reload animations is good enough in a scenario like this.
​
So that's what I end up doing for the next hour or so.
​
Every now and then a plastic canister is passed around the room, filled with some nondescript jungle juice that helps lift my unease.
​
The next thing I know we're in the bathroom with Stella, smooching up a storm.
​
I'm pushed into one of the stalls, and she gives me not a spare second before taking a dive towards my crotch.
​
Playing with my zipper she looks up at me, a coy smile on her full lips.
​
[Stella]
"Eeyyyh, ya gat a dolla'?"
​
* * *
​
Wait, that's not Stella.
​
There's a hobo standing before me, reaching his dirty hand in my face.
​
My first impulse would be to shove it away with a flurry of obscenities. Today though, I feel different.
​
Carefully so that the guy can't snatch my wallet, I produce a five dollar bill.
​
[Hobo]
"Denk ye lad! Bless ya day!"
​
He takes the money while tipping his ragged hat, flashing me a grin full of tooth decay. It's pretty fucking disgusting.
​
Still, it feels nice to have helped someone. It would be better if I didn't know he was gonna blow it on booze or something but eh, I can pretend.
​
Sitting here today in the - relatively - fresh air, with solid food in my stomach and not feeling suicidal for a change, I don't want to let anything bring me down.
​
Hey, if work won't suck more than usual I might even do the laundry when I get home. Though admittedly, the chances of that are quite slim.
​
Maybe whatshername will be in today. That one goth girl I think has daddy issues? I don't talk to any of my colleagues enough to actually know their names, but she's the least insufferable.
​
She's a bit like Fang, I guess.
​
...
​
I take one last look at the dilapidated statue, and go on my merry way.
​
* * *
​
The day goes by without any major incidents. The most interesting part is cleaning up after some kid who just so decided to throw up in the middle of the store. In the meantime though, I'm simply stacking shelves.
​
I zone out for the most part, only replying various grunts to anyone trying to strike up a conversation with me.
​
It's incredible how much routine one can get working a single summer. Both in terms of doing the actual job, and at handling coworkers.
​
The first few weeks I was very, very afraid that I'll be fired for lack of social skills. Only to find that nobody cared so long as I didn't cause any trouble.
​
Sure, this way I couldn't become part of the close-knit group of longterm employees, but that was fine with me. Going by my track record, the less people affiliate with me the better chances they'll have in life. I certainly didn't want to get caught up in another social drama.
​
Can't say they didn't vie for it nonetheless.
​
Early on they've tried to invite me to grab a beer after work or attend this or that concert with them, but after enough refusals they gave up on that. Well not entirely, but they're only asking me out of politeness now, I think.
​
I was also afraid that someone I know will come by and see what a loser I became. I'm not sure why, considering this place was in the middle of Skin Row, and I only knew dino folk. A limited number of 'em at that, and it wasn't likely to change anytime soon.
​
This schoolyear was remarkably different than my first one here at Volcaldera Bluffs. Eerily so. It's only been two few weeks, but without Stella, Naser, Reed, Trish, or hell even Naomi, the hallways just felt empty. Nobody tried to talk to me, as if nobody cared.
​
I mean, why would they care? To an extent, I've got my wish to be invisible, under the radar. The only one who paid me any notice was Rosa, whenever she came around to help out the gardening club.
​
Even Fang was absent.
​
It worried me greatly, though during the first week it could have been chalked up to a coincidental bad-timed illness. On the second week, I went straight to Spears.
​
He's informed me that Fang was alright, they're just in a "camp that handles rebellious teens" and they'd be back next week.
​
Wow.
​
That must have fucking sucked for her. I wondered if that was the school's influence after what happened last year, or the pregorative of her parents. Either way, it was still a lot better than going to the juvie.
​
Maybe I should have been locked up instead, or sent to that camp. At least it would have spiced up my summer.
​
Alas, neither happened, and thus most of my days blended into a mundane, gray mass. One day unavoidably became like another, only differentiated by what kind of scourge fate had for me that week.
​
These mostly came in the form of rude or weird customers. Although given the neighborhood, we've had hobos and junkies almost every day. A decent amount of shoplifters too, and even the occasional robberies.
​
Truth be told, I was very glad nobody tried to rob us while I was working the register. I'd hate to get shot for being a retard, even if ultimately that'd just be natural selection.
​
I feel kinda bad that I've regressed all progress I've made with Stella on not being a weirdo. My only excuse being that I've got other worries now. More important ones. Such as paying rent and not trying to starve at the same time.
​
Like, the whole point of that would be to not be an outcast by the time I become a working adult, right? Well guess what, I AM a working adult. And I'm thankful to be a loner.
​
I mean like... Many times since Stella has left I've felt like I've allowed my life to go straight down the drain. There wasn't one single occasion for all that when I've even suspected I can change that.
​
Being in control of this one aspect of my life - being left alone on my own accord - wasn't something I could let go of.
​
It's not like I didn't know what I should do to feel better. Au contraire. There were maybe a hundred different things I would have to do in order to get my life back on track. Doing the laundry, eating healthy, light exercise, showering more than twice a week, actually caring for my studies, talking more with Stella and my coworkers, acquiring a real hobby, moving to a better part of town, et cetera.
​
Frankly it was all so... Tiresome. So much to do, so easy to fall. And I'm not sure I could ever pick myself up again after another failure. It's just so much easier to live in the safety of this bleak misery.
​
Is it even misery? I'm merely living like any other adult, right?
​
...
​
Most days, I'd be content with my reasoning. Any excuse was good enough if it allowed me to not feel like a washout. Way too much of that going on already.
​
Today though... My chipper mood from morning is mostly gone, but I feel better than I normally would. Like I can make a difference.
​
Oh fuck me, fine.
​
Here goes nothing.
​
If anyone asks me today to go out and do something with them, I'll say yes.
​
* * *
​
My vow keeps me on the edge for the rest of the day, both hoping I'll get to go through with it; and that I'll be able to go home without upsetting my quote un-quote cozy lifestyle.
​
The usual nervous expectation versus the relief of normalcy.
​
Nothing happens till the very last minute though. I'm basically halfway out the door as that one Fang-like girl comes up to me.
​
[Girl]
"Anon, wait up!"
​
[Anon]
"Yeah?"
​
She's already changed back to her normal clothes. All black complete with the obligatory choker, and a bracelet made of small crosses.
​
Her shirt sports some band's logo that I don't recognize. It also has lots of crosses. She's a few years younger than me - by looks alone - so I'm assuming it's some goth-emo-vampire-punk indie band.
​
[Girl]
"Um, there's a Trinity for Hire concert this friday and I've got an extra ticket. Wanna come?"
​
[Girl]
"I mean, I know you're probably busy like always, but--"
​
[Anon]
"Sure."
​
Her face lights up with surprise. I don't blame her. Nor for the flustered response.
​
[Girl]
"C-cool! Didn't know that um, dork as you are you liked their stuff."
​
I don't tell her that I've literally never heard of them. Or that I don't even know her name.
​
This is just an excuse to go out and socialize, no need to make it personal.
​
That makes sense, right?
​
She accompanies me all the way to the bus stop, going on about the band. I mostly zone out, thinking about what I just agreed to.
​
It's not a date.
​
At least not the way I see it.
​
It's simply two extraordinarily not romantically inclined coworkers hanging out in a totally platonic and PG-13 innocent way at a Trinity for Hire concert.
​
Definitely not as a date.
​
I mean, even if I'd want to cheat on Stella - which is a big fucking if in itself - it definitely would not be with a coworker.
​
Plus she's like sixteen or something.
​
I'm just trying to be normal and make some friends. Not like it had to be her specifically, only that she provided the first opportunity.
​
Right time, right place. That kinda deal. It could have been whatshisname or the other dude too.
​
I guess I'll have to talk to her some more during the week now, or it'd be really fucking awkward. Maybe I can get away with the usual grunting.
​
Probably not.
​
Regardless, my bus arrives and we part ways. But not before exchanging numbers.
​
...
​
It's not a date.
​
* * *
​
By the time I get home I push all work related stuff from my mind, instead trying to ready myself for the schoolweek.
​
I sure as fuck won't be doing any homework today, but I should get into the mindset nonetheless.
​
The classes will probably suck and drag on endlessly as per usual, though what I'm really hoping for is getting to finally see Fang. Not really sure why.
​
Like, yeah okay, best case scenario she'll ignore me, same as everyone else.
​
I just want to know that she's okay, I guess. Seeing her broken again, the way she was before summer... I just... I'm not sure I could handle that.
​
Even if she beat me up again would be better. Anger fits Fang much better than depression and self-hatred.
​
...
​
Alright, well, that's tomorrow stuff. Let's focus on today for now.
​
I could do the laundry, for example. Or play Xrox.
​
Actually, maybe I should check on Stella first. There's a slim chance she's seen my message by now. Plus I probably ought to tell her about the concert.
​
To my great surprise, she's sent a few messages while I was asleep. Maybe I shouldn't have blown it off in the morning.
​
I just honestly didn't expect that she'd write.
​
[Stella]
"omg im so sorry"
​
[Stella]
"mom had her friends over and i culdnt ditch"
​
[Stella]
"r u here?"
​
The timestamp shows that she came online approximately twenty minutes after I went to bed.
​
Well, fuck.
​
That's what I get for not reading up on dino shit tenaciously enough.
​
...
​
Although she seems to be available right now. Could she have been waiting for me?
​
[Anon]
"am now"
​
[Anon]
"sup"
​
I wait a few seconds for her to notice.
​
It doesn't happen though, so I slump the phone into my pocket and go about preparing dinner. Not till I'm in the middle of pouring hot water over my noodles does the device buzz, signaling Stella's reply.
​
[Stella]
"so tired"
​
[Stella]
"just left the office"
​
Oh right, she's working a regular 9-to-5, not like my all over the place schedule.
​
Man, what I'd give for a cushy office job...
​
[Stella]
"hbu? <3"
​
I guess this is the part where I tell her about the totally-not-a-date I've signed up for.
​
[Anon]
"im ok"
​
[Anon]
"going to a concert on friday"
​
I bite my lip, feeling a little anxious as I wait for her reply.
​
Will she be glad that for the first time in like ever I'm going to a social event? Or will she be outraged that I'm spending time with somebody else? Especially if I tell her it's a girl?
​
...
​
It's taking way too long. I mean, she's not even typing yet.
​
I'm getting unreasonably nervous over here.
​
Fuck.
​
Maybe I should explain it better? Am I being an autist right now?
​
[Anon]
"its tribune for hire"
​
[Anon]
"the band"
​
...
​
[Stella]
"didnt kno u like them"
​
The fuck? How does everyone know a band I've literally, figuratively, and metaphorically never even heard of?
​
Must be a girl thing.
​
[Stella]
"have fun!!"
​
My tensed up shoulders drop, and I let out a breath I didn't even notice was holding. With the crisis averted I take my cup of noodles back to the living room and dig in.
​
The next hour or so is spent pleasantly chatting with Stella - albeit about nothing particularly interesting. It's so refreshing to be able to talk to her that I'm starting to question if today has really happened or if I've dreamt it all up.
​
There can't possibly be a single day where everything goes my way.
​
Though to be honest, it would have been a rather bleak day if it wasn't for my determination to keep my chin up. In a way, I'm indirectly responsible for things turning out alright.
​
I could have spent the morning indoors by my laptop, but I didn't.
​
I could have gotten into a fight with that hobo, but I didn't.
​
I could have refused whatshername, but I didn't.
​
I could have wasted the entire evening playing vidya, but I didn't.
​
Feeling kinda proud about it. For real.
​
Of course there's that nagging voice in the back of my mind, the one laughing at me proclaiming that this is but a fleeting moment compared to the next sixty years of suffering, that it won't make a difference, and that any effort I put into holding onto this feeling will only make the fall that much worse.
​
I can't outright say the voice is wrong, but still I do my best not to pay it much notice.
​
For a few seconds I consider sorting the laundry just to spite it, but I'm simply too tired to. It makes me feel a little worse, as if I'm admitting the ride is ending. Sure I feel kinda good today, but tomorrow is a whole other question.
​
To give myself the best chances I decide to end the day with a hot bath.
​
I say my goodbyes to Stella as the tub fills up, the two of us setting our next actual videochat-date-thing on thursday. She super-duper promises to show up this time.
​
Unsure what people do to relax just laying there I pass the time shitposting for a while.
​
For a good, long while actually. I stop to laugh at the bubbles when I fart once, and to shamefully consider if I have legitimate brain damage afterwards.
​
The hot water eventually quells me into this somber state though, where I can't help but recall the last time I've felt this kind of engulfing warmth.
​
That time on the beach, with Stella.
​
The memory fouls my mood somewhat, especially when I follow it up with the aftermath of the party I mused myself with this morning...
​
* * *
​
I'm sitting on the edge of my bed, hangover.
​
It's already past noon.
​
There's a stack of pancakes next to me. The topmost one has a crude heart shape drawn on it with cinnamon.
​
The bedsheets feel nice and soft, opposing the sharp ache in my chest.
​
There's nobody else in the room, my only company is a note Stella has left.
​
Its letters are barely legible now, smudged by tears.
​
"I'm sorry Anon but I couldn't wake you up and I have to go."
​
"I love you, Stella"
​
"<3"
​
"PS: I've made you pancakes"
​
I've heard of the expression "can't begin to describe how I feel", but never understood it till now.
​
First of all, there's the unmistakable feeling of sadness I've been wallowing in the past few days.
​
Then there's helplessness, like a part of me is missing and there's nothing I can do anything about it.
​
With my conscious mind I know Stella is on a plane right now, way out of my reach. I can't even contact her in any way, not for at least a couple more hours.
​
Without having seen her board the plane though, without having that closure, I can't help but hope that this is just an elaborate joke. That she's hiding somewhere in the flat, ready to watch the next episode of whatever with me as if it was any other normal day.
​
She isn't though.
​
I've checked.
​
Twice.
​
And there's no one to blame for that but me. That might be the worst part of it all. If only I didn't drink so much last night...
​
Wait, no. There's a worse part.
​
"I love you"
​
Those three words.
​
Three words I've never heard her say, three words I've never said to her.
​
I know she just wanted me to know but... Really, I mean...
​
For fuck's sake, a piece of paper? That I can't even say the words back to?
​
Like, okay, I could but that wouldn't accomplish anything. Nothing I can do would accomplish anything.
​
...
​
Actually, there was an even worse part.
​
I've never had the chance to give her the deck of tarot cards. All that effort, and it didn't even matter.
​
I seriously hope that us parting like this won't make her think that I don't care.
​
Thinking about it from Stella's perspective, it makes me wonder if she really meant her confession or if she just wanted to give me a reason to stick around.
​
It's such a disgusting thought that I'm ashamed to even think it. But now that I have, I just can't push it from my head.
​
* * *
​
A buzzing sound rudely interrupts my train of thought.
​
This time, though, I should actually be thankful for it. It wasn't a nice place I got to after that morning.
​
Some would call it rock bottom, for others it would be a moronic attempt on one's own life. I didn't want to die, not really, but thinking back on it... Yeah, drunkenly provoking random people on the street in Skin Row can only have so many conclusions.
​
Another buzz, and my attention is finally fixated on the here and now.
​
The sound is coming from my phone. I entertain the idea that it's Stella, wanting to talk some more about nothing, or even that girl from work.
​
As it turns out, it's neither. Only a couple of messages from my boss, going on about how we'll need to reorganize the store and repack all the shelves.
​
Ugh, I hate doing that.
​
I've had the pleasure of just dropping into the middle of one such re-shelving at the end of my first month.
​
Like, I get it. It's a business tactic. But the only thing it really accomplishes is that for the next month and a half I'll have at least three customers every single hour asking me to help them find this or that.
​
Plus it's a two week job at the bare minimum. Everyone fucking hates it.
​
Whatever.
​
I reply with a simple "sure", and put my phone back on top of the washing machine.
​
For the next few minutes I contemplate whether or not to stay in the now cold water, too lazy to get up. In the end I conclude that I probably should avoid catching a cold. If not for myself, but so that I can go to school and work.
​
With firsthand experience at what prolonged periods of missing class can do, I'm wary of missing a single one. And as for work, I need every hour I can get into that paycheque. Things are spread thin already.
​
With a grunt I get out of the tub and dry myself, then do my usual to-bed-routine.
​
No new messages? Check.
​
Alarm? Double-check.
​
Hopes and dreams not entirely crushed? Check.
​
I stay up for a couple more minutes, thinking about what it'll be like to see Fang again. It's too complex an emotion to really pin it down, however hard I try.
​
We'll see.
​
* * *
​
I wake to my alarm. Although this time I feel mostly okay, having had eight consecutive hours of sleep.
​
I pack my stuff for school and decide to get a hot-dog en route to class today too. It worked yesterday, so I can maybe actually really honest-to-God pull off another not-sucky day.
​
The odds are surprisingly good, as going to school is a lot less stressful than going to work. A lot more boring too, but I swear if that's the worst it gets it's already a blessing.
​
Of course today I'll probably get to meet Fang again, and... Well I'm still not sure what to think about that.
​
...
​
On my way out the door I draw the top card from the cheesy anime tarot card deck, but can't interpret it as per usual.
​
The commute is pretty uneventful, though I'm seriously getting on edge the closer I get, to the point where I'm anxiously eyeing every corner and vehicle, trying to spot Fang.
​
I keep it up all the way to the classroom. In fact I idle outside in the hallway till the bell rings and the teacher beckons me inside. No luck though.
​
Not seeing Fang pre first period shouldn't mean much on its own, but I can't help feeling uneasy about it. I can barely pay any attention to the class, fumbling with my words whenever I get called on.
​
The very same things happen throughout the classes up till lunch period. I'm pretty confident I can spot her in the mess hall though.
​
...
​
But of course, even with me forgoing to pick lunch to perch out in a corner where I can oversee the entire room, I see no sign of her.
​
Never knew I could hate winged dinosaurs this much, though with every single one I spot that isn't her my contempt grows.
​
I mean, it's possible she'd be at the auditorium due to old habits, I just can't see it. They only picked that spot because of Naomi, and she wasn't here anymore.
​
I quickly check the time to see if I can make my way there before the bell rings, but no, probably not. Maybe tomorrow.
​
"Maybe tomorrow" really seems to be the name of the game, as Fang manages to evade me all day.
​
I even stay behind to see if she's got detention, but no. She's just not here.
​
Like, it's possible that she just got back from that camp and took the first day off, or it was some universe-level fluke of random chances to miss her all day... But...
​
Yeah, this isn't helping my anxiety any.
​
My only consolation is that Spears claimed she's alright, and I couldn't for my life dub him a liar.
​
Still, I go home pretty much a nervous mess, imagining all sorts of colorful theories in my head. Like Fang shooting up the camp and an heroing via cop. As if such a thing could ever happen.
​
At home I try distracting myself with actually doing housework for a change. Evening can't come soon enough.
​
Tomorrow. Tomorrow I'll see Fang, for sure.
​
* * *
​
Except that I don't.
​
Not the next day, and not the day after that.
​
I feel like I've seen a glimpse of her going to the girl's toilet once, but no matter how long I waited outside and called her name, she didn't show.
​
I probably looked like a fucking creep, pacing back and forth there, mumbling under my breath. I have no idea how I wasn't tackled by security - probably Spears looking out for me.
​
I can hardly concentrate at work too, and I'm indescribably grateful that my after-school shifts aren't that long. God bless the manager.
​
Having to manually remind myself every five minutes to actually focus on the task at hand isn't doing me a lot of favors. Thankfully whatshername is keeping me sort of distracted and I eventually learn a bit about her.
​
She's a bit nutty, going on about like the savior spirit and other borderline /x/ tier stuff like a religious yoga-mom.
​
Not her name though.
​
Eventually our shifts end and I find myself out on the street.
​
A starry night, dim city lights over my head. And I'm the only one, and I walk alone.
​
I've mostly calmed myself down over the whole Fang thing, to the point where I can at least see things clearly.
​
It shouldn't come as a surprise that we don't share any classes, Spears probably took care of that. Or like, the entire staff did, seeing as they don't want no drama during the year. Plus it'll minimize the chances of us running into eachother.
​
Fang also could have figured my timetable out, and avoided me on purpose.
​
It makes me a little sad, but I know it's for the best. To be honest though, she can't dodge me for an entire year. She might be a dino, but I'm not a meteor.
​
...Okay, I might be the metaphorical reincarnation of one. Or that of a wrecking-ball.
​
Nevertheless, I'll catch her sooner or later.
​
* * *
​
As expected, I don't see her on thursday either.
​
I find it oddly humorous that originally I was so preoccupied with concerns over not being able to keep the feel-good-train going by doing chores and whatnot, and yet now I can't find enough little tidbits to do to distract myself with.
​
The laundry is done. Bed made. Kitchen cleaned. Browser history erased.
​
Thank God I'll get to talk with Stella today - supposedly. That should divert my attention for at least a good hour or so.
​
She actually shows, albeit half an hour late. At least I could finish the chapter on dino droppings. Jeff Goldblum be proud.
​
[Stella]
"Hey sweetie! How was your week?"
​
For a second I deliberate if telling her about my Fang-anxiety is a good thing or not, concluding that I shouldn't keep secrets from my girlfriend. Like, I grew past that once already, shouldn't backslid if I can help it.
​
[Anon]
"Ugh, it was a fucking mess."
​
[Stella]
"Aww, what happened?"
​
I'm about to detail my week of chasing girls into the toilet as Stella turns her camera on, showing off a fucking short cut new hairstyle.
​
[Anon]
"W-what happened to your hair?"
​
I'm so stunned that I can barely spit out the words.
​
It doesn't look that bad per se, but-- It's just-- I mean--
​
It came out of fucking nowhere, that's the thing.
​
Like, I didn't expect her to ask permission for it but didn't it merit a heads up at least? A passing mention?
​
I'm so phased that I scantily register her response.
​
[Stella]
"Oh it- It's actually been like this for a while."
​
Wait, seriously? What the fuck?
​
She must have noticed my surprise, explaining embarrassedly.
​
[Stella]
"Um... One of mom's friends came over that one time, and um..."
​
[Stella]
"They've told me that my hair would look a lot better this way, and um..."
​
[Stella]
"A-And he's--"
​
I tune out after the word "he", the rest of her explanation equating white noise in my head, blood turning to ice in my veins.
​
Soon as I'm able to, I interrupt her.
​
[Anon]
"What, so you cut your hair just like that? For a guy?"
​
It takes her a bit to formulate a response, her face turning a deeper shade of red.
​
Oh, that's just great. Beautiful.
​
Yeah, totally not crushing on that dude.
​
[Stella]
"N-not for a guy! B-but he's a hairdresser, s-soooo... He should know best, r-right?"
​
[Stella]
"You don't like it?"
​
Do I fucking look like I care about the actual haircut?
​
I mean...
​
FUCK
​
Is this why she "missed" our calls? To play pretty-girl to some faggot boomer dino?
​
Holy fucking shit, what the-- Like, I just--
​
I can't fucking wrap my head around the entire concept.
​
The words "once a cheater, always a cheater" echo in my head, and I desperately have to fight to keep them at bay.
​
Okay.
​
Okay.
​
Calm down.
​
Calm
​
THE FUCK
​
DOWN
​
Stella is MY girlfriend, point in case.
​
She's a social retard like me.
​
I'd probably wear a jacket too if someone told me it would make me fashionable.
​
...
​
But I mean, like...
​
...
​
...
​
Deep breaths.
​
...
​
In a few seconds I manage to calm myself enough to answer.
​
[Anon]
"I'm-- You-- Just surprised me, is all."
​
[Anon]
"...It's not like you, though."
​
That says it all, to be honest. I'm just an autist who can't handle changes.
​
Right?
​
...
​
The rest of the "date" goes by with us chatting about fucking nothing as per usual. To make matters worse there's a feeling building inside me, that I'm just simply fucking left out of Stella's life.
​
I mean, my very first concern over going to that stupid ass fucking Treaty for Hour concert was what Stella would think about it. And yet when things are reversed, she's never even thought of telling me about a drastic change like that.
​
Hell, otherwise I might have even encouraged it, a cute tomboy gf haircut is very much not on my list of things to avoid.
​
As it is, though, the only thing it manages to do is make me nitpick all the otherwise mundane little shits I can use to fuel my rage over this. Going back all the way to her faggotry "confession of love" on the letter she left me that morning.
​
I've always felt ashamed to have thought she didn't mean it, yet it seems to make sense now.
​
Yeah right, "couldn't wake me". As if she ever wanted to. I damn bet she shared a seat with some faggot too. Nothing more than a fucking no-good two-faced lying fucking--
​
Okay.
​
Stop.
​
Just stop.
​
Miraculously I'm still coherent enough to know I'm making a bigger deal out of this than I should, and these arguments don't even make sense.
​
It's just...
​
It makes me feel so miserable.
​
Not even the fact that she didn't ask or tell me, but that she didn't even feel the need to. I mean, yeah, it's her hair, but...
​
Apparently what I think about it wasn't a concern for her for one second. She didn't even want to brag to me about it.
​
...
​
However good this week has been going - besides the Fang stuff - it's all over now. Like a house of cards collapsing on itself.
​
Honestly I just want to cry. But I can't even do that.
​
I spend the rest of the evening variably staring at the four walls, sitting down to play Xrox or to shitpost every now and again but not finding the strength in myself to do either of those things.
​
The oh-so-familiar feeling that nothing in life really matters anymore claws up my spine, eliciting deafening laughter from the voice in my head.
​
A fleeting second compared to the next sixty years of suffering, was it? Doesn't even seem like an exaggregation now.
​
...
​
I sit in my chair for a long time. Legs splayed, hands danging down on either side of me, staring up at the ceiling but not looking at anything in particular. For all intents and purposes, the physical space taken up by my body could very well be an unshaped blob.
​
That's how I feel at least. Useless, unwanted. Someone that doesn't matter.
​
Fang wants nothing from me.
​
Stella pities me with a conversation every now and then, but she doesn't care it seems.
​
Nobody in school talks to me.
​
My own parents have practically disowned me.
​
I never could have imagined I'd say this, but suddenly I appreciate my coworkers' idle attempts to invite me to social events. A lot.
​
To think they're the ones who care for me the most...
​
It's both amusing and incredibly sad.
​
...
​
At least I have a, uh, not-a-date tomorrow, right?
​
The Thing of Our concert?
​
I'm actually aware that it's not the name of the band, and that I didn't even bother to remember it. Like that girl's name.
​
Is this how Stella sees me now, the way I see that girl?
​
I... I really hope it's not true.
​
God, it cannot be true.
​
I've never considered myself a religious person, but for time first time in my life I'm actually praying to some higher force. Not to make things right, not to lift these weights off me or to give me broader shoulders.
​
Only to give me a sign that I matter.
​
That's all I need.
​
* * *
​
I wake to my alarm again.
​
Snooze.
​
Snooze again.
​
Twice, thrice more.
​
It pretty much takes me a little over half an hour to get out of bed.
​
No breakfast. Who cares.
​
Who cares about messages too.
​
...
​
I stop by the door, eyeing the deck of tarot cards.
​
The feeling I have while looking at them, once again it's one that I couldn't describe.
​
I really, really desperately want to draw the top card. To what end, I have no idea. But I feel like this is the last connection I have to the Stella who loved me for real, the one I could lock in my arms, the one for whom I forfeited my life so long ago.
​
But...
​
What's the point? I couldn't make sense of it, not that it told the future by any margin.
​
And it certainly has no bearing over Stella's feelings towards me.
​
Maybe it's that if I keep grasping, if I don't let go, then things can still turn for the better, right? There's still a chance, right?
​
Yeah right, grasping at straws that is. Who am I kidding?
​
...
​
Still...
​
It'd be so easy to just reach out, to draw that card.
​
There's nobody stopping me.
​
...
​
It wouldn't take longer than a second too, just to keep that faint flame of hope ignited.
​
...
​
It doesn't even have to mean anything. I could do it for the sake of doing it.
​
For the lulz, right?
​
...
​
I should just get it over with, right?
​
...
​
...
​
...
​
I leave without touching the deck.
​
* * *
​
Naturally, I don't see Fang at school today either. I'm not even trying to anymore.
​
I sit in my chair, mute and unmoving like a gargoyle. One heavily battered by rain, one whose features have all been eroded by now. It might have served an earthly function once, now it's not even much to look at.
​
Like that statue in the park, surrounded by hobos.
​
Thinking back on it reminds me of the past again, and how I've felt when Stella left me.
​
Except back then I knew I was just a hypocrite, that Stella moving to France shouldn't affect her feelings towards me - or mine towards her.
​
But now... Now she's really gone. Maybe there's a vaguely Stella-like person out there in the world who plays at being my girlfriend, but it's not nearly the same. We're not equals, and we're hardly in a relationship.
​
I search my hazy memories while prodding idly at my lunch, trying to pinpoint the first sign of Stella losing interest in me. Like... Maybe it was something I did. Something I can still fix.
​
I just need to figure out what it is.
​
Scrolling through pretty much every message we've exchanged, trying to recall every voice call we've had, I simply can't find anything useful. I mean, I've always listened to her. I've always cared. It was Stella who slowly started omitting more and more details about herself.
​
I go all the way back till our very first conversation, the one right after her plane had landed. I've sent her a few messages prior to that, like saying I love her back, that I'm so sorry for not seeing her to the airport and stuff.
​
...It was pretty pathetic.
​
[Past Stella]
"aww <3 <3"
​
[Past Stella]
"just arrived"
​
[Past Stella]
"at the terminal"
​
[Past Anon]
"r u ok?"
​
[Past Stella]
"brb"
​
...
​
Yeah okay, that's not outright ignoring me, she was at the fucking airport.
​
What was ignoring me though is that she didn't bother to message me again till way later in the evening. Surely, I can understand that she probably met up with her family and didn't want to mess around with her phone and stuff. But like... Just a simple message or a quick picture was all it would have taken.
​
But, okay, I can chalk this up to her just being a dork, rather than actual malice.
​
I scroll to our next convo, though before I could get to it the phone buzzes in my hand, notifying me about a message from a number I don't recognize.
​
[????]
"hey anon, pick me up at around 4, k? heres my address"
​
Followed by - obviously - an address.
​
I realize it's the girl from work, talking about our da-- Our casual hangout.
​
[Girl]
"mom wants to see u too so act like ur my supervisor plz"
​
Uh, okay? That's a little weird, but maybe she just wants me to make a good impression?
​
I'm a little alarmed by this, though it doesn't move me as much as it should. I don't really give two fucks about her mother, or about her for that matter.
​
I'm not even sure why I'm bothering to go anymore. Probably because I've promised and it would be more hassle to excuse myself out of it.
​
Maybe I can snag some free beer there too.
​
[Anon]
"sure"
​
Immediately I switch back to the Stella conversation I was looking up, but of course the damn bell rings, signaling the end of lunch period.
​
I spend the rest of the classes in the same mute stupor I was in earlier.
​
Nobody cares.
​
* * *
​
After school I make a beeline towards my flat to drop my bag off and to sprinkle myself with a cheap brand of cologne, hopefully masking the fact that I haven't showered in three days.
​
I stop to stare at the deck of cards, leaving them there again and instead opting to call a cab.
​
One perk of getting to know more people in Skin Row was that I've learned of a taxi service that indeed does operate here. They miiiiight be part of an organ trafficking ring too if the rumors are anything to go by, but I don't really care.
​
The cab guy seems reasonably legit, nonetheless I give him an address a couple of blocks away, just to be safe.
​
He tries to make smalltalk with me as the ride goes on. Operating under the general grunting-response mode, I keep my distance. It's not that I don't trust him - well I don't, but I'm not actively suspicious of him either -, I just don't feel like talking to anyone.
​
I don't feel like doing anything.
​
Really, I pretty much don't feel anything at all, except a slight bit of nervousness the closer we get to our destination. I still am meeting with a girl, afterall.
​
A coworker at that, so if I let my 'tism take over and embarrass myself, I'm sure everyone at work will know. I don't need another Rock Bottom incident.
​
In any case, we arrive and I pay the guy. Again, to be safe I wait till the cab rolls away and turns the corner. I don't quite believe they are organ traffickers, but I don't want to give them B'n'E tips either.
​
With a sigh I start walking to the actual address, fishing my phone from my pocket to let the girl know I'll get there soon. Her chirpy response almost makes me smile as well.
​
Almost.
​
Their home seems nice enough. It's still a multi-story rowhouse, although it's a lot more posh looking than the commie blocks over at my place. I bet they even have heating too.
​
She's waiting for me outside, accompanied by an older woman who I assume to be her mother.
​
Weird. I expected her to like, I don't know, invite me in for a snack or something? I mean, that's how people meet their date's parents, right?
​
Not that, of course, she is my date. So it's all good, honestly.
​
She's not wearing her usual goth makeup either, dressed mostly in white and other light pastel colors, pretty much a carbon copy of her mother's getup.
​
It's kinda odd, but maybe she's just putting on a show till we get to the concert. Me acting like her supervisor is probably part of the smokes and mirrors dance for her mom.
​
As I get closer I wave at them to get their attention.
​
She turns to me with a smile that once again gets very close to melting the icicle that is my heart right now, but it doesn't quite make it.
​
[Girl]
"Hey there!"
​
For a second there I worry that she'll actually take my hand as if I was her boyfriend or something. Thankfully she steps aside like a proper little lady, introducing me to her mother.
​
[Girl]
"Mom, this is Anon, my supervisor from work. He's super dependable and polite."
​
I do my best to suppress my retarded laughter after such an intro, and try to actually play along. I extend my hand for a handshake, straightening my back as if I had a spine.
​
[Anon]
"Pleased to meet you."
​
[Girl's Mom]
"Oh, it's very nice to meet you also."
​
We exchange a handshake that is neither too firm nor too sloppy, however I'm not really sure what to do or say after that.
​
The girl picks up on the signs of my awkwardness showing, and decides to take matters into her own hands.
​
[Girl]
"Okay, so now you know he's not like a serial killer or anything, can we go?"
​
The elder lady takes her time to look me over once again, giving her blessing in the end.
​
[Girl's Mom]
"Of course dearie. Have lots of fun, but be back--"
​
[Girl]
"Be back by eight, I know. I will."
​
By eight? What kind of concert is that?
​
Even with my very limited knowledge of social events I know that the fun usually starts after sundown, and not before.
​
Nevertheless, I watch the lady give her daughter a loving smooch on her forehead, ruffling her hair up a bit, then leave us to go on our way.
​
I'm looking for a way to make a snide comment about it, though I'm shot down before I could really come up with anything good.
​
[Girl]
"Don't even go there. Just call a cab, will you?"
​
[Anon]
"Uh, sure."
​
I dial the same shady company as we turn a corner.
​
Soon as we're out of view from their building I expect the girl to pull out a dark lipstick or something, yet she doesn't. She seems totally cool with her generic good girl outfit.
​
I'm so confused by it that I don't even know where to begin. Like, is her goth side the con then? I mean okay she wears that bracelet with the crosses, but I didn't expect her to actually be religious.
​
We wait on the curb in awkward silence till our carriage arrives. It's the same guy who brought me here, and I'm sure he recognizes me too. Thankfully he makes no comment about it.
​
He doesn't try to strike up a conversation this time either, so the stiff atmosphere doesn't quite go away. We're all just kinda staring out of the windows, watching the buildings flash us by.
​
At one point the girl hands me my ticket, and I'm sure to notice her fingers slightly brushing up against mine.
​
The long-forgotten feeling of excitement mixed with uncontrollable spaghetti flows reignites within me, and I actually start sweating a little. Whereas I was content with the ill-at-ease ambiance between us, now I'm afraid to be this much of a dweeb.
​
Suddenly, I don't want to botch the date. So much so that I finally admit it for what it really is, a fucking date.
​
With a real human girl.
​
Oh, sweet mother Mary of Raptor Jesus.
​
What the fuck do I? What do I say?
​
[Anon]
"So um, nice dress."
​
[Girl]
"Huh?"
​
[Girl]
"Yeah okay, thanks."
​
That uh, that went well, right? It was a good compliment.
​
I check the cab guy's reaction in the rearview mirror.
​
He's just subtly shaking his head at me.
​
...
​
I keep my mouth shut for the remainder of the ride.
​
* * *
​
After what feels like an eternity we arrive at the festivities' site.
​
White pallet fences and flags, crosses everywhere, middle-aged folks - composite of humans and dinos alike - stumbling about the limited number of teens and small children, vendors selling non-junk food like corn on the cob...
​
At once, everything makes sense.
​
It's a fucking Christian "rock" band. Trinity for Hire.
​
Trinity, as in, like, the holy spirit and stuff.
​
Oh my fucking God, just kill me now.
​
Wait, did this count as actual blasphemy? Does this actually make a holy site?
​
...Yeah, probably not.
​
I check on the girl, unable to fathom why she'd want to ever come here on her own. And yet she seems genuinely excited.
​
I really do fucking hope at least the music's gonna be good.
​
Once again I pay the cab guy - with a hefty tip - and watch him roll away.
​
With a forced and hopefully not creepy smile I turn to the girl, motioning towards the entrance.
​
[Anon]
"So, uh... S-shall we?"
​
She fumbles around a little, for the first time looking a little embarrassed.
​
[Girl]
"Uhm, yeah uh, the thing is..."
​
[Girl]
"Go grab a beer or something Anon, I'll be okay on my own."
​
I furrow my brows, unsure what she means.
​
[Anon]
"Like, grab one for you too? Or like...?"
​
She gives a deep sigh, as if having to explain some clear-as-day idea to a retard.
​
I mean, she might actually be doing just that cause I can be a dense motherfucker, but...
​
[Girl]
"No, I mean, I don't need you."
​
The idiotic grin vanishes from my face, heart skipping a beat.
​
"I don't need you"
​
N-no... She's just joking, yeah?
​
This is not right.
​
[Anon]
"B-but--"
​
[Girl]
"Look, I'm sorry that I played you like this but Mom didn't let me come alone."
​
[Girl]
"I've only asked you cause everyone else already said no."
​
I-- Okay but--
​
I mean--
​
[Anon]
"B-but, this is a date?"
​
She gives me such a pitiful disgusted look that it takes me considerable effort not to collapse. Like a fourth-grader when his crush rejects them.
​
[Girl]
"Anon, I'd never date a coworker."
​
[Girl]
"Plus you don't even care about me."
​
[Anon]
"T-that's not true!"
​
[Girl]
"Oh yeah? What's my name?"
​
...
​
...
​
...
​
She leaves me there without another word.
​
I consider shouting "you too" after her to make the scene complete.
​
Man, that couldn't have gone worse.
​
I haven't yet realized, but even as I continuously rejected the idea that this was a date, a considerable part of my confidence rode upon it. At least there was one girl, one fucking person on the entire planet who wanted to be with me. Someone that actually, against all odds, found me desirable. Or at the very least more than a literal waste of oxygen.
​
But no. Fucking not.
​
Crumpled-up ticket in my hand, surrounded by possibly the most benign, oblivious and happy people for a hundred miles, something within me breaks.
​
Why the fuck do THEY deserve happiness?
​
What the fuck do THEY have that I don't?
​
What are THEY doing that I just can't?
​
FUCK
​
I've spent THE ENTIRE WEEK fixing things.
​
I did EVERYTHING RIGHT.
​
IT'S NOT ME THAT ABANDONED MYSELF
​
The world starts spinning around me in circles, colors merging into a cacophonic cyclone, darkness closing in. I vaguely realize that I'm hyperventilating, but it feels like it's not actually happening to me, as if I was just an observer.
​
A crowd gathers, people trying to talk to me. Probably asking if I'm alright, but I barely register their words.
​
Someone - likely security - comes up to me, ushering me to a table.
​
I let them sit me down but no more, chasing them away with various colorful strings of curses that make a few parents cover their children's ears.
​
Serves them fucking right.
​
The security guy threatens me, and finally I do shut up.
​
They stay close by for the next few minutes, though the crowd eventually dissipates. Afterall, I'm literally just sitting there in silence, breathing in and out like a madman.
​
* * *
​
An incomprehensible amount of time later I regain control of my body again, senses slowly returning.
​
I'm still sitting by that same table, except nobody around me pays any notice. It's dark out now, way past the eight o'clock mark when I was supposed to take that bitch home.
​
Not that I care in the slightest. Her perfect mother can ground her in their perfect home.
​
Or maybe she's out with some guy, making Jesus proud.
​
It's all the same to me.
​
...
​
Looking around, the ratio of old-to-young attendees has changed markedly. There are mostly teens and tweens around, with the exception of a few families sticking together.
​
I finally notice the music too.
​
It's some brand of whiny-rock, going on about having faith and whatnot.
​
Yeah, that's just what I need.
​
This-- It's just--
​
Like...
​
...
​
I feel so fucking alone and miserable right now.
​
Really, was it too much to ask for, not to be invisible?
​
Is there anything I can do now to get back on track? To have a decent life?
​
It's as if no matter what I do, something out of my control always comes along to push me down.
​
One step forward, two roundhouse kicks in the gut.
​
...
​
Damn I wish I had a cigarette right now.
​
I haven't even smoked since I've gotten together with Stella...
​
To distract myself I turn my attention to the masses again, scanning each one of them in great detail. Both longing to belong; and trying to figure out where I've gone wrong and they haven't. Among all these average Joe and Jane looking folks, statistics alone would dictate that at least ONE is a depressed fuck like me. Or in the very least show signs of going through hardships.
​
After several minutes I notice a familiar bundle of colors. I squint my eyes, trying to see over the crowd - almost climbing up on the table too.
​
No way.
​
It-- It can't be who I think it is.
​
The crowd thins for a second and undoubtedly, I see her.
​
Fang.
​
She's wearing a pastel-colored dress like so many girls around her, but there's no mistaking that it's her.
​
Accompanied by her parents, she's cheering to the music without a care in the world, a wide smile on her face. From what I can tell, she's pretty straightened out as well. No trackmarks on her arms, wings neatly manicured. And that smile, that genuine and happy smile...
​
I'm so relieved to see her like this. Way, way more than just floating around - or actively getting worse - as I had feared.
​
At the same time though, it makes me incredibly sad. All it took to make her truly happy was to cut contact with me.
​
...
​
The song playing comes to an end, and Fang applauds with the rest of the crowd.
​
Her father jokingly elbows her in the side and says something, causing her to turn her head.
​
I hastily duck when I see her turning my way, panicking as I feel like we've made eye contact for a brief moment.
​
Unable to wait for more than a bat of an eye I raise my head again, and I can see Fang looking right at me. Her expression is one of total disbelief.
​
We stare at one another for a few seconds till the next song starts. That's when her parents notice her frozen on the spot, and turn to see what she's looking at.
​
Her mother is short enough not to see me, but the look on her father's face says it all.
​
He gathers the two female dinos up, and ushers them towards the entrance.
​
Without really thinking about it, I move to intercept them. I honest to God have no idea what the fuck I'm doing.
​
I keep losing sight of them in the crowd, but luckily I'm way closer to the gates than they are.
​
Soon, we find eachother face to face. The difference between the two sides is so monumental that it almost makes me laugh. Me, the sad debris of a human, alone and beaten by the world; against the close knit Arin family, nigh the image of a perfect suburban dino family.
​
There's stifling silence, the air loaded with emotions.
​
Scattered images of our standoff with Fang flash before my eyes. The two of us standing out there in the rain by the school garden, getting drenched to the bone as I tell her I don't love her anymore. Fang's fist closing in as she decks me in the face in response, followed by several more punches and kicks. Then, my vision fading, and falling to the ground midst the torn up pieces of Stella's old tarot cards...
​
Shaking the memory I return to the present, opening my mouth to greet the Arins.
​
Fang's father interrupts me.
​
[Ripley]
"What do you think you're doing here? Leave us alone you little brat!"
​
[Anon]
"I-- I'd just like to talk to Fang."
​
I can see her fidget as I say her name. Or maybe just generally in response to hearing my voice.
​
At the same time her father shoots me a cold, killer glare that would probably make even the most hardened criminals cower in fear. The way things are though, it doesn't really have an effect on me. I simply don't care enough to get intimidated. At least my struggles would be over if he breaks my neck.
​
We continue this mute back and forth staring contest till Fang opens her mouth to speak. Only to be interrupted by her mother this time.
​
She pushes Fang back towards her father, stepping between us protectively.
​
[Samantha]
"Anon, just go away please! Lucy is doing fine without you. Please don't bring the past up again!"
​
She says my name with such contempt I didn't even know she's capable of. I understand where it's coming from, of course.
​
I take a good look at her and his husband again, both staring at me with disdain, clearly expecting me to leave.
​
Fang - or is it Lucy now? - is looking down at the ground, biting her lower lip. She doesn't look sad or angry though. More like she's embarrassed.
​
I assume it's for her parents' behavior, that they're acting like she's a four-year-old or something, who can't decide what's best for her. She probably wants to say something but doesn't dare to, not wanting to risk the progress she's made.
​
And honestly? I don't blame her. If someone could magically fix my relationship with Stella and all I had to do was to keep my god damned mouth shut, I'd go with that too.
​
It's just... I'm kinda shaken to see Fang like this. Other than her physical appearance - excluding the generic tradwife outfit - there's nothing here that says "Fang" anymore. She's like a mere husk of her former self.
​
Her parents are still glaring daggers at me, but now I can see that it isn't as much as they're mad at me, they just don't want to upset Fang.
​
For a second there a spark ignites in my chest, that I should fight them to bring the real Fang back, that it's not okay to lobotomize her like this. Yet it's so short lived that I can't be sure if I imagined it.
​
They're right.
​
There's nothing to be gained here.
​
[Anon]
"I'm sorry to have bothered you. I'll go now..."
​
Their relief is notable, and I turn away without further ado.
​
I don't look back at them either, not until Fang's voice hits my ears.
​
[Fang]
"...mom, I can handle..."
​
It's only one fragment of a single sentence, but one that makes me curious enough to stop and turn back.
​
She's taken a few steps in my direction, and was stopped by her mother it seems. She's clutching Fang's arms with both hands in an attempt to pull her back.
​
I can see her beak moving, but I can't make out a lot.
​
[Samantha]
"...not make a scene dear..."
​
[Samantha]
"...go home where it's..."
​
My stomach turns in sheer disgust, seeing Fang handled like this. They really are acting like she's just a child.
​
It might not even be about Fang so much as their own reputation.
​
Like training a dog not to shit on the carpet.
​
I look at her father again, and he's looking right back at me, urging me to leave them the fuck alone.
​
Much to my own surprise my first thought is "fuck you old man", and one more time I feel like I should do something.
​
But... I know I shouldn't. All I've ever managed to do was fuck up my own life, and the lives of anyone that ever associated themselves with me.
​
Fang - Lucy - may be in a bad spot now, but who's to say she won't be better in a year? Do I really want to fuck with her future? Again?
​
Her progress might be slow, but it's progress. I mean, she hasn't fought anyone in the crowd, didn't give me a concussion, she can apparently go to a show with her parents to have fun... These are all things her old self couldn't have done.
​
Once again, I'm probably just a dipshit who can't let go of the past.
​
I'm just about to turn my back on them for good when another cry from Fang rings out. It's noticeably louder this time, making multiple heads turn their way.
​
[Fang]
"Mom please, let me do this!"
​
I can't hide the cringe from my face, seeing a grown-ass woman ask her mother for permission do to something. Looking at her father anew, it's clear he's embarrassed about it too. His stare saying "please just leave already" rather than "stay and I'll disembowel you".
​
Likely pressured by the multitudes of whispers spreading around them, Fang is finally let off the hook - though hesitantly so. Immediately she turns to me, as if she was afraid her mother will go back on her word.
​
There's still a bit of distance between us, which she closes with quick strides. At least till the last two meters or so, where she loses her grit and abruptly stops.
​
I don't step up to her. I both feel like it's her struggle to fight through; and that I'd have to respect her decision were she to change her mind.
​
I can see her slowly, painfully slowly starting to turn back towards her parents, only to shake her head before she could actually look at them. It's quite clear that they keep her on a short leash, and there's great uncertainty in her current situation.
​
Plus it's about me. Probably the last person in the world she'd want to see or talk to.
​
There still are some bystanders staring her down too. Like that's not a stress factor, surely.
​
She takes one last deep breath, and finally faces me for real. Without coming any closer she barks her words at me, crossing her arms over her chest protectively.
​
[Fang]
"Why are you here, A-an-n? What do you want?"
​
The way she struggles to say my name hits me surprisingly hard. As if it was some curse word, and a particularly bad one at that.
​
While waiting for my response, Fang inspects me head to toe. There's clearly something in her eyes, some shine that I can't quite interpret. Is she concerned? About me? About herself? About her parents maybe? Or does she pity me? Curious as to why I look like a meth addict?
​
I don't even know how I'd explain that to her.
​
"Oh it's no biggie, I'm just in a self-destructive downward spiral where I barely eat, lack basic hygiene, refuse to talk to anyone, and routinely stay up all night to read a book on relationships despite successfully tanking my current one. All without even knowing what I did wrong, and that's only because Stella couldn't stay with me having failed half my classes - which I can thank YOU for, by the way, after you've beaten me up so severely that I almost got into a fucking coma. But hey! At least today I got a free ticket to a concert I otherwise would have avoided by a couple hundred miles minimum. And I only had to pay a might-be-criminal cab driver twice, so maybe I can even pay rent this month if I continue not eating."
​
That just sums it all up, doesn't it? Where the fuck did things go this fucking batshit off the rails?
​
...
​
The more I think about it though, my sarcastic remark starts making more and more sense. After it's all said and done, isn't it Fang who I should blame? If it wasn't for her, I could have graduated along with Stella and the rest of the class. We could have rented our own apartment somewhere, and we could have had a nice summer together. I probably would even have followed up on my intentions to propose to her by now.
​
I mean yeah, Fang didn't beat me just for fun, I did cheat on her. But that book was already closed till SHE chose to open it up again.
​
I realize that it's way past time I replied something to Fang's question as to why I wanted to see her now. Well, I still don't know why I did it, but luckily I have one very fucking swell idea what to do with the opportunity.
​
Last time I might have held myself back from hurting her, but oh no not anymore. I will so enjoy painting that immaculate dress red with her blood. Then her father can shoot me, and it'll finally all be over. At least I'll go out doing something that makes ME feel better, instead of servicing someone else.
​
Fuck school.
​
Fuck my parents.
​
Fuck work and fuck whatshername.
​
Fuck Stella.
​
And most of all, fuck Fang for taking my future away!
​
I take a step forward, reaching towards her with one hand. I want to grab her, choke her, shove her to the ground and bash her head in with a rock and--
​
Raptor Jesus on the fucking stick!
​
She really did take my life away, didn't she? And then SHE gets to be happy? A good little christian girl pampered by her parents? Where's the justice?
​
Oh that's right, there's none. There's only the vengeance.
​
Another step. Fang doesn't waver.
​
It baffles me on some deep level. Sure, maybe my apathetic sullen face doesn't reflect my intentions, but I'm literally about to grab her. Do I mean nothing to her THIS MUCH? I'm not even a threat?
​
Only as I take the last step to close the distance between us does she back up, yet for some unfathomable reason she looks sorry instead of afraid.
​
[Fang]
"Anon, don't try it. I won't hug you back."
​
...?
​
Her words shock me to the core just the same as whatshername's have, if not more so. Hug her?! I want to fucking murder her!
​
I freeze in motion and nearly trip over my own feet, retracting my hand to keep my balance.
​
Wh--
​
How could she EVER think that I still want to be with her? Is this some elaborate fantasy she gets off to? Does she cry herself to sleep over what could have been every night or something?
​
I mean just what the fuck?!
​
As I try to gather my bearings and make ANY sense of the situation, Fang literally turns her back on me with one last sorrowful sigh, making her way back to her parents.
​
BITCH WHAT THE FUCK
​
COME BACK HERE I'M NOT DONE WITH YOU
​
I'M--
​
...
​
I--
​
...
​
I...?
​
Was I seriously just about to...
​
Beat Fang up?
​
Christ, what the fuck is wrong with me? Am I really this fucked in the head?
​
I fall to my knees, looking down at my own hands. The very ones I, just moments ago, intended to take Fangs's life with - and I no longer recognize them as belonging to me. Who's this stranger that would turn to murder just to make himself feel better?
​
Suddenly, I'm afraid of both myself, and of the realization that I don't even know who am I anymore.
​
All my life, I've just been that weirdo with his video games. And I was fine with that.
​
Then I became the weirdo with the weirdo gf - two of them, even - though I didn't even notice the change. And I was still fine, mostly.
​
But, now-- No. For the last three months, I was--
​
I've been--
​
[Anon]
"Fang!"
​
The word slips from my mouth before I even realize it. She doesn't hear it at first, not over the sounds of the crowd, having already halved the distance to her parents, to safety.
​
Please, someone tell me what's happening to me...!
​
[Anon]
"Fang!"
​
This time I shout with all my remaining strength, successfully getting her attention.
​
[Anon]
"Who am I?"
​
Her surprise at the question is clearly visible, and it takes her a while to process it. Me being on my knees probably doesn't help the situation either. But I need to know.
​
Her snout opens and closes multiple times, yet there are no words.
​
In this exact moment a floodlight from the show flashes over us, settling over Fang for just a second or two. However short the spectacle filling my vision is, it stupefies me all the same.
​
With her entire frame illuminated by white brilliance, in the clear gown and surrounded by her feathery wings, Fang looks nothing short of an actual angel. As if she was one with the light itself, chosen by the heavens to translate their will. Their judgment of one.
​
This is it. This is the sign I prayed for!
​
Time itself slows down around us as I kneel in the mud before Fang, honest-to-god believing that I'm witnessing an actual miracle. That somehow Fang became a conduit of a higher force that'll fix everything. Live or die, or if I'm put into a cheesy time-rewind situation, or be bestowed with ultimate wisdom... Finally, FINALLY, someone will tell me what to do. Someone will help me fix things.
​
The second passes though, and the very earthly squalor of two broken souls is all that's left in its wake.
​
There's no ultimate wisdom. There's no help.
​
There's only a confused Fang who already half-turned her back on me. Her breaths are short, shrunken pupils darting all around but unable to focus on anything.
​
[Fang]
"Anon, you're--"
​
[Fang]
"To me, you're--"
​
No matter how hard she tries, that's all she can produce. In the end, Fang shoots me one last glare that I can't even tell what it's trying to convey, then she tears her eyes from mine's, running back to her kin.
​
The crowd between us closes in a matter of seconds, and once again I'm left behind, on my knees in the dark.
​
...
​
Some sign that was.
​
* * *
​
It's not till way later that I see the events transpired in a different manner.
​
I'm back home, sitting on the ground in front of my electric heater, knees pulled up between my arms. Were anyone to enter the darkened room now, I'd look like a teenage girl who just got dumped. Minus the ice cream.
​
Except I was dumped by... Life? I guess.
​
Well, maybe not entirely. A crazy theory slowly takes shape inside my head. It's so improbable that I'm ninety-percent sure I'm making it up as a coping mechanism so I can feel better.
​
But...
​
Perhaps it really was a sign? THE sign, that I still matter?
​
Like, okay. Fang made it very clear that she wants to keep her distance. But maybe, just maybe, could that be because she still loves me? And she's afraid to go down that road again?
​
I mean, back there I must have looked like a hobo or zombie reaching my arm towards her. Yet her first reaction was that I was going for a hug?
​
If I hate someone with all my being, if he's the sole reason why I had to change my entire personality, then I don't fucking think about stuff like hugging that person. And I definitely don't assume he'd try to be nice to me either.
​
Furthermore, she tried to say something about what I mean to her. Maybe she couldn't bring herself to say anything cause she was afraid I'd rebuff her again? Could it really be true that she's still holding onto the fantasy of the two of us being together?
​
Hell, she didn't even need to come talk to me anyway. I was already going away.
​
What was it she said to her mother? What was it she had to handle? Her feelings towards me?
​
Not those of hate, but those of a suppressed hope that could ignite the same fire inside her that I've felt too? That she's not the real Fang anymore? That she's living a lie?
​
A stranger to herself, just as I am to me now? A hollow husk, a twisted shadow of the big dreams of a teenager?
​
After all this time, after all we've gone through, could she really think that I'm the one to fix her? And that she would fix me?
​
Is this our destiny?
​
I stare at the red-hot metal pipe of the heater, as if trying to find someone who agrees with me.
​
Of course, my silent companion suffers my struggle unmoved, emotionless.
​
Next, I bring one of my hands eye-level. Ever since I got home I've been clutching onto my phone, unable to work up the courage to message Stella.
​
I'm not even sure what would be worse. If I send her some wall of text, dumping all my feelings and insecurities there and she won't react to it; or if she replied some inane stuff about anime and totally disregarded my misery. At least if the former had happened I could pretend she just doesn't have the time, but would care otherwise.
​
The thing is, I see equal chances for either happening.
​
Should I just go ahead and break up with her then? Take a chance with Fang again? Even if Fang would reject me, that'd be fair, unlike Stella refusing to even acknowledge that there might be a problem with our relationship.
​
Plus, I don't KNOW if Fang would say no. Not yet. With Stella though, I'm fairly certain she doesn't care for me anymore.
​
That's really the worst part of it all.
​
No matter how long I sit by the heater, I come to no conclusion. Despite a great many sources of pain in my life pointing at Stella as the source, I can't bring myself to admitting defeat. It's as if she's the only piece of my life that connects me to happier times. That without her, I'd let it all go and allow this new stranger Anon to take over, and I'd simply be gone.
​
And...
​
And I still do love her.
​
I don't want to push her away because fixing this mess is the only chance I have at bringing my weirdo anime-loving tarot-reader astrologer-wannabe girlfriend back.
​
Yet the prospect of giving it all up is so inviting. Especially now that I see a real opportunity of patching up old wounds with Fang also.
​
The sounds of heavy raindrops catch my attention, and with a grunt I make my way to the window. It's dark out, deep into the moonless night. I doubt that I'll get any sleep in before the morning comes in any case.
​
Staring at the halo of the flickering lampposts, watching the rain, I can almost convince myself that tomorrow things will go back to normal. Bleak as they ever were. That this ache in my chest will fade, that I'll stop thinking about Fang.
​
After all, me trying to prove that she still has feelings towards me is probably just wishful thinking. It's only me, trying to find any footing in the dark. It's simply the first thing that came along to give me false hope, and I shouldn't think about it any harder than that.
​
...Right?
​
* * *
​
I perch out by the windowsill, ogling the rain till the first rays of sunshine light up the night.
​
With them comes a buzz from my phone that I first assume to be my alarm. On closer inspection though, it's a message.
​
More buzzes, more messages.
​
Well, it's probably Stella having her lunch break or something. I'm pleasantly surprised that she felt like texting me, though at the same time I'm a little afraid to see what it's about. I'm worried that she'll offhandedly reveal more information about her escapades with a guy.
​
Totally platonic escapades I mean.
​
Turns out my worries are completely irrelevant however, as the messages aren't even from Stella.
​
They're from Fang.
​
I can practically feel my heart skipping a couple of beats, and I go weak at the knees. Thankfully I was already standing by the bed and I can swiftly sit down, otherwise I most likely would have collapsed.
​
I'm so flabbergasted that without thinking, I tap the notification.
​
[Fang]
"hey Anon"
​
[Fang]
"id like to come over today"
​
[Fang]
"if its ok with u"
​
[Fang]
"i wanna talk about some stuff"
​
[Fang]
"this mess wer in"
​
[Fang]
"u n i"
​
[Fang]
"we cn stlil make it rgiht :V"
​
My brain has practically flatlined. I have no idea how to respond.
​
Is this even real?
​
...
​
I have this elaborate fantasy of Fang looking out of her window, just the same as I was, having spent the entire night awake and trying to figure out how to phrase these messages. No, better yet, if she should even send them.
​
But, more to the point, could it be that I was actually right? There it is, plain as day and misspelled, she thinks we can "stlil make it rgiht". With an emoji.
​
It's like--
​
Okay, yeah, let's not get ahead of myself. All she says is that she wants to talk and clean up some mess. It could very well be that she wants to once and for all make it clear: I have no place in her life.
​
I mean, that wouldn't really make anything right, nevertheless it might just allow us both to move on. Afterall I thought I already have, but evidently it was enough to see Fang once to get to the point where I'm considering breaking up with Stella. I can hardly fathom how it must have been for Fang.
​
But...
​
These all feel like weak excuses that shrink in comparison to the obvious a-bomb of Fang wanting to give us another chance. Maybe seeing me alone at a concert gave her the idea that I'm not with Stella anymore? Or maybe she just wants to be friends.
​
Taking a deep breath, I bring the phone screen into view. Oh god, how do I talk to girls again, without being a sperg about it?
​
[Anon]
"yeah okay"
​
[Anon]
"id like that"
​
That's not a weird thing to say, right? I don't think I went too far at least. Just making it clear that she doesn't have to worry about coming over.
​
Thank fuck I have no work today.
​
[Fang]
"2pm?"
​
[Anon]
"thats ok"
​
[Fang]
"okay"
​
Christ, this is going too smoothly. I don't even have to tidy up, having spent all week cleaning up to distract myself from the mental anguish of not seeing Fang at school.
​
Obviously, this can mean only one thing.
​
IT'S GONNA BE A FUCKING CATASTROPHE
​
* * *
​
After having spent the following hour or so anxiously pacing back and forth in the room, I finally manage to calm myself enough to rationally consider the situation.
​
A girl is coming over. Regardless of the context of the visit, I should prepare for it adequately.
​
Like as if I was a normal person?
​
Okay, so the first step would be to clean shop, although that's like ninety-nine percent done. All I have to do is make the bed.
​
Right, then I should probably get some snacks, I guess? Like uh, smores or something? I have no idea what this new Fang - or Lucy - likes. In fact, should I be addressing her as Lucy now? This is so confusing.
​
At least going to the store is something normal. That should calm me a little, I hope.
​
I put on my boots and shit, grab an umbrella, only stopping to pick a tarot card again.
​
...
​
Well, I still have no idea what it means, but I at least recognize this one. Death.
​
I have some faint memories of Stella telling me it doesn't actually symbolize death as in like, dying, more the end of something. Maybe even the beginning of something new, when combined with yadda-yadda arcana-this-and-that I didn't pay attention cause she was showing cleavage.
​
Guess I'm paying the price for that now.
​
Nonetheless, the memory puts me in quite a somber mood as I descend the stairs. Makes me wonder what Stella could be doing right now, and what her day-to-day life actually is like.
​
I know she has a job, and I've sort of deduced that her mother likes to parade her around to people. But what are her bad days like? Does she even have bad days? It can't be all around paradise over there, that's just not humanely possible.
​
Does she ever tire of it all? Does she have any doubts? Like, is her ignorance of our problems her way of shielding herself from the truth? The truth, that we're not really a couple anymore? Would that mean that somewhere deep down she actually cares?
​
...
​
I know that trying to rationalize her behavior is just me wishing things turned out some other way. But it also reminds me of something.
​
Principal Spears.
​
More specifically, his warning that I shouldn't bandwagon one side or the other like a fucking ping-pong ball. Exactly the way I am doing now.
​
One nice thought about Fang, and I'm ready to break up with Stella.
​
One pleasant memory with Stella on the other hand, and I suddenly wish we were still together.
​
Even the thought of picking a side sounds terrible, as if it was a political party or something. I should be able to listen to my heart, simple as that.
​
Some serious soul-searching will be due once this thing with Fang is over. Assuming I won't do something stupid.
​
Arriving at my destination pulls me back to the physical world. It's a simple convenience store, the closest one to the flat. I usually come here to buy my TV dinners and whatnot.
​
For a second I entertain the idea that I should get a pack of condoms also, but I cast it aside quickly. The fewer chances I allow myself to screw things up the better.
​
Entering the store I quickly note that the heating is turned way the fuck up, contrasting the harsh cold rain outside. I swear I saw a snowflake or two in there as well, a clear sign that the real colds are coming soon.
​
There's not many people around this early, so I make quick work of picking my stuff. Potato chips, popcorn, lemonade powder. That ought to do it.
​
While I'm at it I grab some frozen lasagna too, I'll need something for dinner anyway. It's also coincidentally a dinner-for-two pack, surely nothing to do with Fang coming over. I mean, I can't seriously hope that she'll spend the night, right?
​
Wait, would it be weird if I put two towels out in the bathroom? Or would she expect that?
​
...
​
I forcibly clear my head of these misguided ideas, stepping up to the counter. The cashier girl - who is surprisingly a dino - scans my stuff nonchalantly, she only comments at the lasagna that it's her favorite also. Her red scales and fluffy tail really remind me of someone, but I can't quite put my finger on it.
​
She tries to put up some smalltalk as I pay, and for once I don't dodge the social interaction. I can do with some distraction to kill time, plus also I feel a weird connection with a fellow store-worker. Like a brotherhood. I know very well how these morning shifts are, dragging on endlessly and making one question their own mortality.
​
Not that we have much to talk about. She asks if I'm from the area, cause she's new here - no wonder I haven't met her yet - and would like to know where the "good spots" are. What kind of good spots, I have no idea, so I tell her as much.
​
This displeases her, commenting that I shouldn't be such a square and live my life having fun.
​
Yeah, advice from some junkie is the last thing I need. It amuses me though, as if all my problems would be solved if I started drinking or something.
​
I thank her for her wisdom with the least amount of sarcasm I can produce, and take my leave. Exiting the store I once again notice how fucking hot it was in there, shivering a little as I open my umbrella.
​
I also notice, however, that my breaths make little clouds in the air, and I take a second or two playing pretend-dragon. To hell with all my life problems, I can at least cherish these little moments. Especially considering how few and far between they are.
​
...
​
Maybe that girl had a point.
​
Alright, fine. I will do something fun once I get home. Something silly.
​
Huh, I guess I could play pretend some more, acting like I was an e-celeb streamer. Shameful as it was, some years back I often did that. Just sitting by myself in my room, talking to the screen as if I had an audience.
​
It was uh... It was pretty pathetic. But I enjoyed it.
​
Maybe I'll enjoy it again.
​
* * *
​
I get so caught up in my little role-playing, that I almost miss the buzz of the doorbell.
​
Promptly shutting up mid-sentence I hastily turn the console off and move to the door, opening the multitude of locks.
​
Certainly, my face is a bright crimson, having been caught acting so childishly. At the same time my heartrate is picking up fast, as I'm very sure that on the other side of the door is Fang herself. Or, like, Lucy. I guess.
​
I take a second to consider if I should maybe act like I'm not home, even though she's clearly heard my voice and me unlocking the door.
​
One last look at the television to make sure the game is off, and with a deep breath I steel myself for what's to come, opening up.
​
Out there, of course, is Fang.
​
This time she's actually more Fang-like too, not Lucy-like. The tradwife dress is gone, replaced with a mundane hoodie and jeans. She's not carrying an umbrella though, so the rain must have let up since I got home. On her side instead is her old bag from last semester, but it looks kinda weird on her now. As if it was out of place without the punk-goth getup.
​
She seems just as anxious as I feel.
​
[Anon]
"H-hey!"
​
[Fang]
"...Hi..."
​
[Fang]
"Were you just um, on the phone or...?"
​
The red tint on my face deepens, and I blurt out the first thing I can use to ameliorate the awkward situation.
​
[Anon]
"Y-yeah, no, I um, it wasn't the phone."
​
[Fang]
"Uh-huh..."
​
Situation ameliorated.
​
...
​
The conversation seems to run out there, and it takes me more time than I'd like to admit to figure out she's probably waiting for me to invite her in.
​
[Anon]
"Oh um, c-come on in! Haha!"
​
I step aside, allowing Fang to enter, closing the door behind her as she takes a look around.
​
[Fang]
"This place is pretty much the same, huh?"
​
[Fang]
"Well, it's a lot cleaner I guess..."
​
[Anon]
"Er, yeah, I try to keep it together, haha!"
​
Christ, I need to calm the fuck down. I'm acting like some pleb who's never been around a girl before.
​
[Anon]
"There's uh, some snacks on the desk and uhhhh, I can make some lemonade?"
​
Fang inspects said snacks for a few seconds with a conflicted expression, in the end opting to instead sit down on the bed. She sets the bag down by her feet, still clutching the strap. I guess she's really nervous too.
​
[Fang]
"Um, sure, okay."
​
[Anon]
"O-okay, be right back."
​
After a quick round-trip to the kitchen, I return with two glasses of lemonade that I hope I didn't sugar too much with these shaky fucking hands. Funnily enough, I can't help but think about all the "Glass her" memes, and in spite of the gravity of the situation I nearly fail to suppress my laughter.
​
I find Fang standing by my desk, with an envelope in her hand. I'm not really sure what it's about till she exchanges it for her glass.
​
[Fang]
"Please read this!"
​
[Fang]
"I didn't think I could say the things I want, like, say them right, so um, I wrote them down instead."
​
There's shame in her voice, but I find the idea neat. Seems like she has this all figured out. So much so that she's already pulling my chair out for me, implying that I'll want to sit down for this one.
​
Yeah, okay.
​
I oblige, and Fang returns to her bag behind me. To give me some space, I guess?
​
For the next few seconds I can hear her shuffling about, probably too nervous to just sit around. I can hardly keep my composure as well - especially as I open the envelope, revealing the letter.
​
It gives me some minor flashbacks of the letter Stella left for me that faithful morning, but I soldier on. I'm too hip to be square.
​
"Anon"
​
"I hope I was brave enough to give you this letter. It's a bad thing I'm about to do, and I need to you read this."
​
"Back when you told me that you can't ever love me, I think a part of me died. It just took too long for me to figure that out."
​
"But I also figured out that I have to stop being a damn burden for everyone. It's no wonder people hate me, cause there's not a single good thing about me."
​
"I don't think I ever really knew who or what I wanted to be, I was just running away from everyone's expectations. I didn't want to be the perfect daughter, because the truth is that I didn't deserve to be."
​
"When we were together, I thought I've got a second chance to figure myself out. Cause you know if someone cares for me, that means I'm still worth the hassle, right?"
​
"But then Stella came along, and it all changed. I don't blame her, not that much at least. And I don't blame you. It was my stupidity alone that I thought I could put my faith in anyone else but myself. From now on I'll build my future alone, by any means necessary."
​
"And that means this is the end now."
​
"I'm very sorry."
​
By the end I can barely keep my tears at bay. It hurts so fucking much to read this.
​
I've never considered that Fang could be just as broken as me, if not more so. Not back then. When we started dating I thought her life was pretty straightened out, with the glaring exception of that whole enbie business.
​
I really honestly thought that I was the fucked up loser, not her. Going by past experience alone.
​
I'm not sure what the end of the letter is about though, but I think we can figure it out together. I'm a little saddened that this isn't a confession of love - reads more like a suicide note -, but I can still be her friend.
​
Hell, sounds like what we both need is a friend. No relationship bullshit, just legitimately someone that understands how it feels to have hit rock bottom. Someone to rely on. Even if her "big revelation" is that she should go at it alone.
​
I set the letter down on the desk, turning to face Fang with a swift, determined motion, that almost sends the chair flying to the side.
​
Only to be blinded by a yellowish-white flash, accompanied by a loud bang. Immediately afterwards my ears start ringing, and I find it hard to keep my balance, totally disoriented.
​
What the fuck just happened?
​
I just barely register the distant sounds of glass shattering, and as my vision returns, I see myself facing the smoking barrel of a gun, some sort of revolver.
​
In Fang's hands.
​
Without a second's pause, instincts take over. Through the haze I jump to the side, trying to get away from the threat. There are a million thoughts at once flooding the conscious part of my brain as I dash-dodge-run towards the kitchen.
​
Oh fuck oh shit I'm dead I'M SO FUCKING DEAD Fang is gonna kill me how long has she been standing behind me like that am I shot I don't feel like I'm shot what the fuck is she doing what the fuck should I do?
​
All combined with the oldest and noblest of all instincts a man can have: Needtogetaway!
​
The unmistakable sound of another gunshot reverberates in the air, though to my nigh-deaf ears it sounds as if it came from far away. But I'm way too fucking aware that the threat - the lethal fucking threat - is a mere meter or so from me.
​
From the corner of my eye I see Fang training the gun on me as she turns, following gunshot after another. I can see now that her expression is one of pain, tears running down her cheeks and ruining her mascara. She's clearly panicking now, having missed the first shot. Strangely though, the glass of lemonade is neatly set down by her feet, untouched.
​
Not focusing on my escape and instead pondering over unimportant details proves a fatal mistake, however, as I trip over the Xrox cables and fall to the ground. At the same time the TV screen is virtually exploded by a bullet, plastic shards showering down on my back.
​
And I'm certain that my head is next.
​
With a thud I faceplant the floor, painfully biting my tongue too. Even so, that's the least of my worries right now. The feeling of impending doom is so strong that I'm very, very close to pissing myself. I can practically feel the bullet burning its way into my back already.
​
Any second now...
​
...
​
...?
​
[Fang]
"Why are you still alive?!"
​
I shake at the sound, shutting my eyes reflexively, fully expecting it to be another gunshot. Even once I realize it's Fang shouting, I still stay on the floor motionless - save for the shellshock-like quivers.
​
I don't dare look at her, lest I give her a reason to finish the job. With this uncertain pause settling over us, I try sorting out my options fast as I can, looking for any means of survival. Admittedly though, with me on the floor and Fang pointing that gun at me, my chances are slim. There's no way she's gonna miss again.
​
I seriously doubt that anyone here in Skin Row would give two fucks about a shootout, let alone call the cops. Even if they did, or if a tenant wanted to intervene, that's too much time. I probably only have a few seconds here before Fang pulls the trigger.
​
I could try to stall or sweet talk her, but there's just about no way my retarded ass could talk sense into her. I also demur my ability to force a single word out right now.
​
Thus I stay there, splayed out on the floor like a pathetic sack of shit.
​
...
​
Seconds pass, then a whole minute, and I'm still not dead. The ringing in my ears fades away somewhat, and I finally hear it - sobbing. Curiosity overpowers my sense of self-preservation, and slowly, cautiously, I turn to the source of the sound.
​
Fang is again sitting on the edge of my bed, grabbing into her hair with both hands and rocking back and forth, a distraught expression on her face.
​
Oh, and she still has the fucking gun too.
​
I have no words to describe what I'm feeling right now, adrenalin pumping in my veins combined with the grave-cold sweat of fear on my back. I'm partially aware that this could be my chance to escape or to disarm Fang, if only I could get my body to move.
​
On top of that I don't even know if I could make it, what with being locked in here with a mentally unstable psychopath.
​
A psychopath with a gun.
​
I just now notice that Fang is mumbling something to herself, repeating the same phrase over and over. Try as I might however, I can't make it out. Fuck, she's seriously fucking lost it.
​
What the fuck do I do?
​
...
​
[Anon]
"F-Fang...?"
​
Soon as she hears my voice she stops with the rocking, mouth agape mid-mumble. Once again I'm very fucking afraid that I'm gonna be shot and killed.
​
Sadly I might be right too, as a moment later Fang aims the gun at me, staring me down with bloodshot eyes.
​
I'm fucking sure that the crybaby face I'm pulling right now must be the most pathetic thing Fang has ever seen, but... Fuck! I don't want to go like this!
​
Not like this!
​
My silent plea finds no empathy with Fang though, as I can clearly see her shaky finger crawling onto the trigger mechanism.
​
[Fang]
"You should be dead!"
​
The flow of tears starts anew, her face contorting into a painful grimace. At the same time, her finger tightens on the trigger.
​
[Fang]
"Dead!"
​
Her arm is shaking uncontrollably now, but all I can see is that cold dark hole at the end of the barrel.
​
[Fang]
"Like me!"
​
Her eyes widen, frothing mouth turning into a twisted growl, which I take as signs of her sealing the deal. I close my eyes, instinctively bringing my arms in front of my face protectively, flexing every single muscle in my body as I brace for the impact.
​
But once again, it doesn't come. I open my eyes right away, managing to catch the exact moment Fang puts the gun against her own head.
​
[Anon]
"NO! FANG DON'T!"
​
I try to reach for her, stop her, but it's all too late.
​
I watch helplessly as Fang pulls the trigger, the whole world seemingly frozen in time. I've seen gore videos in the past, and I've even thought I've desensitized myself to such sights. Yet I still can't help but close my eyes again - I'm still only human, afterall.
​
There's no blast to split my eardrums. All I hear is a faint metallic clicking sound before total silence befalls the room.
​
Even in my shocked state, it doesn't take long to connect the dots - she's out of bullets.
​
There's another click, and several more as Fang desperately goes through the empty chambers. But there's no bang.
​
With the threat lifted, I can finally will my body to move, tackling Fang onto the bed and twisting the gun from her grip. She puts up no resistance, as if all strength left her body.
​
We pretty much end up with me pinning her down by her writs in a cross-like position. In another situation, this might as well be something sexy. But not fucking now.
​
She's looking up at me, eyes still full of disbelief. And pain. But there's no fight in her anymore.
​
[Fang]
"Why are you still alive?"
​
She repeats her question from before, but it's little more than a whisper now.
​
What does she mean though? How did I dodge those bullets? It was sheer fucking luck, not some Matrix-esque superpower.
​
...
​
We stay like that for a minute or so, at least till I'm sure that Fang won't try to get away - or harm me - if I get off of her. Nevertheless I let go of her wrists one at a time, and very cautiously at that.
​
She stays there just laying like that though, staring up at the ceiling. As if some metaphorical bullet still fired from her gun, sapping her of her lifeforce.
​
I sit up beside her, really fucking unsure of what to do.
​
Should I just fucking call the police? Or let her go? Should we try to discuss it?
​
...
​
I guess of all solutions, that latter one is the least final. I'll call the cops on her afterwards. Still, I have no idea where to even start.
​
I look around the room as I gather my thoughts.
​
The TV is fucking gone. Positively obliterated. Half of the screen was clean torn-off by the blast. Just what the fuck caliber is that revolver?
​
The window is shattered, broken glass littering the desk and surrounding floor. I can already feel the cold wind biting my skin, and I loathe having to put up like cardboard or something.
​
The impact of the other shots mark a clear trajectory on the wall as Fang chased me across the room. From here it looks like none of the bullets made it through to the hallway, for which I'm very grateful.
​
...
​
Against all odds, that glass of lemonade is still there.
​
Turning back to Fang, I'm not one bit closer to figuring out what to say. Guess I'll go with the obvious.
​
[Anon]
"What the fuck was that?"
​
She doesn't answer me with words, only with a frown and looking away from my general direction.
​
Well that's just great. She doesn't even have a reason for trying to kill me?
​
I mean yeah, her letter makes more sense now, all that "build my own future by all means necessary" stuff. But uh... Like, she had a perfectly good opportunity to shoot me in the back. Except she obviously didn't.
​
Was it because it's an awful disgusting thing to do, or because she honestly doesn't believe this to be the right call?
​
How can I even be this calm about all that?! I almost just fucking died!
​
My hands are still shaking, sure, and I feel nauseous, but I'm like, I don't know. Accepting the situation?
​
[Fang]
"Why are you still alive?"
​
Her question angers me greatly, and I have to hold myself back from shaking Fang till she fucking explains herself.
​
[Anon]
"I DON'T KNOW! I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT THE FUCK YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT!"
​
That finally does the trick, and Fang turns to face me, pulling her legs up into fetal position and sheltering herself with her wings. She looks so helpless and broken right now that I can almost forget her shooting spree.
​
Almost.
​
She takes a deep breath, her voice raspy as she continues to fight her tears back.
​
[Fang]
"H-how are you still you? H-how'd you make it after-- After--"
​
[Fang]
"How can you do everything right, by yourself, when I'm--"
​
[Fang]
"I'm... I'm s-so l-lossstttt--"
​
Even if there was more to her speech, loud sobs and wails take away her words. Before I could do anything, she completely covers herself with her wings into a feathery cocoon.
​
Not that there's anything I could add to the situation. I'm practically stupefied by this reveal of information.
​
Still being me? Doing everything right?
​
Where's she getting these fucking ideas from?
​
She's the one with her life on track. She's the one with a family, the one who can still smile. The one who doesn't have to work a fucking 9-to-5 "student job" to just barely pay the bills. What the fuck is there in my bleak misery of a life that she can be jealous of?!
​
Long minutes pass till Fang's crying subsides, though her next words still come from under her wings - as if she was unable to even look at me.
​
[Fang]
"I'm s-so s-s-sorryyy!"
​
That's all she can force out, voice failing her. Really though, I couldn't care less for her anguished cries. I stare at her with hatred in my eyes, much the same as her parents glared at me yesterday.
​
Yesterday...?
​
Feels like it happened in a different world entirely. To think that not an hour ago I wished we'd have another chance... It's as if we've crossed over into a different timeline or parallel world, one where everything's backwards.
​
If I try hard enough, I can still pretend like there's some distant possibility, some miracle fringe-technology, a bastardization of pseudoscience that could take me to a world where everything is all right, where Fang really did come over today to confess her feelings to me instead of whatever the fuck this was.
​
...
​
But I should accept it already.
​
There are no miracles.
​
* * *
​
For the following ten minutes Fang retreats into her cocoon, crying loudly. She refuses to talk to me even when I threaten her with physical violence or that I'll call the police.
​
Honestly I just want her out of my home and out of my life, so her ignoring me doesn't fucking help my mental state any.
​
I variably pace back and forth, attempt to collect pieces of the shattered window or to clean up the mess the TV screen has made... But nothing I do helps me calm down any, nor reduce the shaking of my hands.
​
In fact, as the shock and adrenaline fade away, I'm more on edge than before. Sweat collects on my face, heart beating like a drum.
​
I feel dizzy, nauseous. Like I'm gonna throw up any second now. Except I can't, not even after spending a whole minute dry-heaving over the sink.
​
[Fang]
"A-Anon--"
​
I hear Fang's voice coming from the bedroom-slash-livingroom, but at first I ignore it. I'm not in any state to attempt a conversation with her. Not now.
​
[Fang]
"C-could you guh--"
​
[Fang]
"Could you get t-the p-pills fhh--"
​
She's wheezing, each one of her sentences abruptly ending with an asthma-like gasp.
​
[Fang]
"P-pills frommmhh--"
​
I wipe the saliva from my mouth and return to the bed, looking down at Fang's body. There's no emotion in me except for disdain. Her body is shaking real bad now, but I don't care.
​
What, is this withdrawal? Did she drug herself before coming here? Just the right push to get the job done? She couldn't even be sober when killing me?
​
I've never taken her for a junkie, but I guess I also never took her for a murderer.
​
[Fang]
"M-my b-b-ba--"
​
She's still pleading, barely able to talk anymore. But I just stand above her, emotionless.
​
Serves her right.
​
At least if she overdosed herself or whatever the fuck, then it's done with. I don't even have to move a muscle to get my revenge.
​
I hope that in her final moments, she'll understand.
​
Understand that she's not only a burden like she wrote in her letter, but that all she can do is make things worse. For everyone.
​
For her family, for her friends. For anyone too stupid to care.
​
That we've got estranged from eachother rightfully so, cause there's no-one to put up with his sad bullshit. Not Fang, not Stella.
​
...
​
Wait, what did I just--
​
Suddenly, Fang's wings open up, her gaze meeting mine.
​
And in that instant, I falter.
​
Those aren't the eyes of a drug addict. I should know, I see them daily at work.
​
No. She's again panicked, but... Frail. Afraid.
​
As if she was drowning.
​
Her mouth opens, but no words come out anymore. Her eyes shift towards her bag, then back to me, begging.
​
I... I don't know what to do anymore. I can't leave her like that, but...
​
Even if it's not an overdose, it'd be so easy to just...
​
Not do anything.
​
If I don't help her... Fang... Would die?
​
Should I... Let that happen...?
​
I can't move a muscle, not even as her body starts convulsing. My mind goes numb, yet conversely I can almost feel the blood circling in my veins. The throbbing of my heart like deafening drums, drowning out all other sounds. The feeling is more intense than anything I've ever felt my entire life.
​
Tears form in her eyes as Fang realizes the situation. She probably understands, too, that she doesn't deserve my help. Not after what she's done.
​
But... Is it really alright for me to play God?
​
Looking down at Fang's writhing body, desperately clawing her way inch by inch to the edge of the bed, it feels... Good?
​
Finally... Finally, I have the power! I decide what happens now and nobody else! There are no stupid dinos to sneer at me for being different, no coworkers to patronize the loser!
​
But...
​
A pitiful cry escapes Fang's lips, and her arms go limp. She turns onto her back, looking up at me.
​
Her lips are moving, but I can't read them. Is she begging for help? Or saying she's sorry? Is she calling my name?
​
I bite my lip forcefully, the metallic taste of blood filling my mouth.
​
Her whole body flutters again, then she goes silent. As if on cue, the gravity of the situation hits me full force, lifting whatever spell I was under.
​
FUCK
​
Just what the hell am I doing?! I can't let Fang fucking die!
​
I rush to her bag, ripping the zip open. My hands are shaking - again or still, who knows?
​
Fuck! Fuck!
​
What did she say? Pills? Fucking pills, right?
​
I turn the bag upside down, emptying its contents onto the rugged carpet.
​
...What? Is this a joke?
​
A dozen different canisters and syringes fall to the floor, rolling all over the place. Some of them even get under the bed.
​
Fuck!
​
FUCK!
​
Why are there some many? Which one does Fang fucking need?!
​
I take a quick look at her, but in my panicked state I can't tell if she's breathing or not.
​
[Anon]
"Don't you fucking die! You hear me?!"
​
I yell at her in a vain attempt to prolong the inevitable, all the while scanning the canisters for a way to determine which one to give her. It doesn't fucking help that my eyes are wet with tears now too.
​
What the fuck was I thinking?
​
How could I have been so stupid?
​
My eyes move to Fang's limp body again...
​
Is she...?
​
Of all things, the fucking tarot card I drew this morning flashes before my eyes.
​
Death.
​
FUCK
​
There's no time. I pick a syringe at random, its label reading "ADRENALINE - Epinephire - ROSC" with bold letters. Of course I have no idea what the fuck it means.
​
But adrenaline injections are a thing, right? That's not just movies and games, right?
​
Fuck, why do I have to be so uneducated? If only I ever gave a shit about anything important...
​
I climb onto the bed, straddling Fang's body like before.
​
How the fuck do I administer an adrenaline shot? Aim at the heart, right?
​
From this close I can tell Fang is still breathing, but just barely. She's obviously not conscious.
​
I raise the syringe high, its sharp, thick needle pointing at Fang's chest. All I have to do is bring my fist down, and it'll all be right.
​
...Right...?
​
I hesitate.
​
She's alive, so... What if it was just a panic attack or something? Could I actually harm her by doing this?
​
Like, won't stabbing her in the heart kill her?
​
Should I just leave her be?
​
FUCK
​
[Anon]
"PLEASE DON'T DIE!"
​
Despaired, my hand rushes to action. I'm keenly aware of every little detail of the scene. The droplets of sweat on my forehead, the warmth of Fang's body, how her chest raises with each shallow breath...
​
The next few minutes, however, are all but a blur.
​
I don't dare aim at her heart, but her thigh instead. That's how they do insulin shots too, right?
​
At first, nothing happens. My heart sinks, the feeling of failure filling my entire body and soul.
​
To my great relief, not a few moments later Fang jolts awake, coughing and gasping for air, her muscles contracting to the point where she almost headbutts me.
​
I fall off of her backwards, both out of fear and to give her space.
​
Fang just sits there for a couple of seconds breathing hard, staring at me and at the needle in her leg.
​
Her expression is so intense and her next movement so quick that at first I'm afraid she's gonna attack. But no, she turns her back to me and goes for her bag - the remainders of it at least.
​
Searching through her armada of medication she eventually finds the right bottle, popping a pill or two straight into her mouth. I guess her hands are shaking too much for her to bother.
​
...
​
The room goes silent after that, save for our labored breathing. This time I'm on the bed, and Fang is standing. The glass of lemonade is still on the floor, yet to be spilled.
​
Fang's legs give out fast, though, and she stumbles back to me. Well, back to the bed in any case.
​
Neither of us knows what to say.
​
Did I do it? Did I save her?
​
It takes me a few tries to formulate the words, my voice hardly cooperating.
​
[Anon]
"Aryouga-- A-Arayo--"
​
[Anon]
"Are you g-gonna be okay?"
​
Breathing erratically still and unable to make eye contact, Fang gives me a quick nod, then pulls the syringe from her thigh. There's some blood, but I guess I didn't fuck up that much. Thank god her fashion sense includes ripped jeans...
​
After that she sets her back to the wall, pulling her knees up protectively.
​
Silence settles over us anew, only broken by the sounds of Skin Row coming from the busted window. A gentle breeze rolls in, catching into Fang's silvery hair and making it stick to her face, slick with sweat and tears.
​
I want to ask her just what the hell happened here, but I can't produce a single word.
​
So I can only guess.
​
Something heart related? It has to be. I mean, that couldn't have been an allergic reaction just now - would adrenaline have even worked then?
​
But she's never told me anything about that, not even back when...
​
...
​
Then there's the whole murder attempt thing also, like I could ever forget. Except it goes both ways now.
​
Oh Fang, just what are we supposed to do...?
​
* * *
​
We stay like that for a long time. For hours, probably. Feels like it anyway. Just sitting on opposing ends of the bed, stealing glances at eachother and listening to the melody of Skin Row.
​
People shouting, cars blaring their horns and the occasional tire screech, dogs barking, the shrill cry of a baby somewhere in the distance. Honestly, I've never noticed how lively it can be outside. Must be the weekend.
​
Eventually we calm down, though Fang's breathing evens out way later than mine.
​
She's still there by the wall, head resting on her knees. Her expression is... Complicated. One that I can't read. She looks extremely tired too, likely an after-effect of the adrenaline shot - I don't ask.
​
It must be cold there by the window, evident by her shivering. I'm aware that I should probably offer her my jacket, but...
​
Feels like even the most subtle movement will ruin everything. As if we were in a sort of stasis now, a stalemate. Although it's little more than our collective denial to face reality.
​
Take a step in any direction, and trouble is sure to follow. At least till we can postpone that step, things are fine.
​
It gives me some time to think as well. Not that I have the faintest idea of what I should be thinking anymore...
​
This morning, I was practically head over heels for Fang.
​
Let's just put the fact that I sort of have a girlfriend aside.
​
Then Fang tried to murder me.
​
Then I tried to murder her. Or like, watch her die.
​
I also wanted to kill her yesterday.
​
Today, however, I saved her life. Even though she wanted to shoot me in the back, point blank.
​
But with all that taken into account... I just can't find it in myself to hate her.
​
I know that this was only an act of desperation. I mean, we literally just met yesterday for the first time in months. She couldn't have been plotting this for long.
​
Plus, she tried to kill herself. That contradicts her letter, in which she claimed to strive for a new kind of future, one that she builds alone.
​
There'd be no need to get me involved either, if only for revenge. But I don't think Fang would do that.
​
I also refuse to believe that she could murder someone in cold blood.
​
Me, on the other hand... If I had a gun on me at the concert, who knows how that scene would have ended? Maybe I would have shot whatsherface way before my blood boiling over Fang. There could have been many casualities if I went on a rampage there...
​
Then again, I didn't plan for that to happen either.
​
Still, I cannot ignore what Fang has done today.
​
But what do I do about it? I'm just as fucked up as she is, if not more so. The only difference is that I don't have access to a gun.
​
Is there even an answer to this puzzle?
​
I can't hate her, I can't act neutral, so... What does that mean? I should help her then?
​
Even if I would - and even if I could -, we can't just buddy-buddy it up. Not after what happened.
​
...
​
I take another look at Fang. She's still cooped-up there, in the exact same position she's been for, well, for however long we've been sitting here.
​
She's clearly cold, and I can't resist not offering her my jacket anymore. Whatever else she may be, she's still just a girl.
​
Clearing my throat, I motion at the fabric.
​
[Anon]
"D-do you want my...?"
​
She looks up for just a second, shaking her head mechanically. Her movement is almost imperceptible.
​
[Fang]
"I thought you were gonna let me die..."
​
Her voice is weak, almost a whisper. It reflects her disheveled looks exactly.
​
She doesn't look at me anymore, her eyes fixated on the bedsheets.
​
[Anon]
"I thought so too."
​
...
​
All of a sudden a faint, sad smile appears on Fang's face.
​
[Fang]
"I would have deserved it, wouldn't I?"
​
[Fang]
"Gosh, how could I have done something so terrible?"
​
She hides her face between her knees in embarassement, dropping her smile.
​
I don't know what to say to that.
​
I mean, yeah... The question of why hanged over our heads for a long time now.
​
[Fang]
"I didn't want to k-kill you... I just..."
​
[Fang]
"I wanted you gone, and... I didn't know how to--"
​
[Fang]
"I thought if you'd be gone, I could--"
​
[Fang]
"That I could fix myself..."
​
[Fang]
"God, I'm so dumb!"
​
If I was gone...? But...
​
[Anon]
"But... Why me?"
​
[Anon]
"When I saw you yesterday I thought-- I mean--"
​
[Anon]
"I-I'm... I'm a nobody."
​
Nobody I may be, but I can't pretend that I don't know the reason. I knew it as soon as I saw how her parents "protected" her.
​
She's not doing any of this for herself, because she's not even here anymore.
​
There was a Fang once, sure. But whoever this Lucy is, that's not her. The Lucy I saw yesterday was but a hollow shell of a person, an illusion to keep those around her happy.
​
I might be a failure, and I may wish however much that I did things differently, or even refuse to take the blame for my own ineptitude, but... I'm still me.
​
At least most of the time.
​
I'm not sure who the Anon that wanted to kill Fang - twice over - is, and I'm already afraid of that. I can't even fathom how it must feel for Fang, for someone who can barely grasp at who she is anymore.
​
How long has she been suffocating in that cage, fearing to be erased forever?
​
[Fang]
"You asked me..."
​
She takes a deep breath, fighting the tears collecting in the corner of her eyes.
​
[Fang]
"You asked me who you are."
​
[Fang]
"I didn't really understand the question-- I still don't."
​
[Fang]
"Cause... You're you."
​
...
​
[Fang]
"Then as we got in the car... And all through the night... I was thinking."
​
She stifles a sob, sniffling into the arm of her hoodie.
​
[Fang]
"You're the only piece of the old Fang left."
​
[Fang]
"I thought if I could ki--"
​
[Fang]
"I-if you'd be gone, then... I c-could be Lucy for real. A-and then e-everyone would b-be h-h-happy..."
​
Her tears flow heavily by this point, staining the bedding dark around the specks of blood from her leg.
​
But at the same time, there's a smile on her face.
​
[Fang]
"C-Cause you know..."
​
[Fang]
"When I get up in the morning and-- And Mom's there and--"
​
[Fang]
"And she's smiling at me--"
​
[Fang]
"S-smiling! Again after all these years..."
​
[Fang]
"Doesn't that mean that-- t-that--"
​
She can't finish the sentence, retreating behind her wings once more.
​
It's weird to see her do that so often. As if she could only handle reality in so little packets. As if that barrier guarded another world, one that was only her own, a place where she could be safe.
​
But uh, yeah.
​
I suppose that's an angle I haven't considered.
​
It's really easy for me to act like a loner and a retard, cause nobody expect anything from me anyway. I'm not hurting anyone, only myself.
​
However I remember Fang telling me how bad her relationship with her parents got. Supposedly way worse than with Naser, and I've already seen firsthand how that was.
​
...
​
Fang's cries have subsided in the meantime, her feathery fortress opening up.
​
Again, she keeps throwing glances at me every other second or so, but she's mostly staring at the sheets in front of her.
​
I'm not sure if she's waiting for me to say something, or to go ahead and console her. I don't feel either would be a good idea.
​
As such, silence settles over us for the following handful of minutes.
​
In the end, Fang is the one to pick up the conversation - or whatever this is supposed to be.
​
[Fang]
"Heart palpitation."
​
[Anon]
"Huh?"
​
I'm caught off guard by the sudden change of topic.
​
[Fang]
"That's what it was. Heart palpitation."
​
Fang wipes her tears away - a losing battle, but she tries anyway - then continues.
​
[Fang]
"I'm sure you've heard about it so... Yeah, I had to see a psychiatrist twice a week."
​
[Fang]
"For a pretty long time."
​
I don't see how the two things connect, so I just let her keep going.
​
[Fang]
"I've had... Anxiety attacks."
​
[Fang]
"T-they weren't about you. Most of the time anyway."
​
[Fang]
"I've tried really hard to make my family proud, but... The shrink said I was afraid of losing myself in the process, or something like that."
​
[Fang]
"I guess that makes sense cause I had this thought that one day I'll wake up and forget who I really was behind my mask. Who I used to be."
​
[Fang]
"At first they only came at night, but... After a while I could barely focus on anything."
​
[Fang]
"Like, I felt weak all the time."
​
[Fang]
"Dad made me see a doctor, so..."
​
[Fang]
"Heart palpitations. Increased blood pressure. Rapid heart rate. Shortness of breath."
​
[Fang]
"They all come and go, but..."
​
She takes a look at the myriad of meds surrounding her torn bag, scoffing with resentment.
​
[Fang]
"...They can be fatal."
​
[Anon]
"Well that makes sense, you're a pterosaur after all."
​
[Fang]
"...What?"
​
The words came without me really intending them. In fact, I look just as surprised as Fang.
​
[Anon]
"W-well, y-your body is overall weaker than most dinos, cause uhh... It had to be lightweight for uh..."
​
[Anon]
"Er, like, your ancestors had to fly a lot. So uh, your bones and organs and stuff get hurt more easily, and they're worse at handling episodic stress. Like, a lot worse."
​
Thank you, "Interspecies relationships for dummies".
​
Fang seems absolutely astounded, jaw on the floor.
​
[Fang]
"T-thats exactly what the doctors--"
​
[Fang]
"I mean-- How do you...?"
​
[Anon]
"I uh... Read it in a book?"
​
That's pretty much the long and short of it. Cause there's no way in hell I'll admit to spending night after night reading that crap.
​
Huh, crap. That reminds me...
​
[Anon]
"Did you know some dinos take dumps up to five kilograms? Certain species can go up to even ten kilos!"
​
...
​
...
​
[Fang]
"..."
​
[Anon]
"..."
​
...
​
Should I just ask her to shoot me?
​
I open my mouth, trying to make up some bullshit to hide my embarrassment, when all of a sudden, I hear Fang giggle. It's such a genuine sound that at first I can't place it. I honestly did not expect it from a girl who tried to shoot herself in the head like an hour ago.
​
[Fang]
"Y-yeah, I might know something about that. Cause you know, Dad can be, umm..."
​
[Fang]
"You don't want to go to the toilet after him."
​
Uh.
​
I force an awkward laugh, though it sounds more like a cat being choked to death.
​
[Fang]
"Did you read that in your book too?"
​
* * *
​
With our conversation taking such a weird turn, we end up exchanging obscure dino facts for a good while, neither of us wanting to go back to a certain other topic. I can't tell if Fang is actually interested or if she's putting up an act, but I'm fine with either one.
​
This is by far the most normal conversation I've had in a while.
​
And it started with dino droppings.
​
In the back of my mind there's an ever-growing concern, that stalling will only make things harder on us. There's no way we won't have to make a decision about... Uh...
​
About what, exactly?
​
Well, that's the problem. I don't even know where to begin.
​
I can't just ignore an attempt on my life, and I seriously doubt Fang could look the other way about my nonchalant inaction as she almost died.
​
On the other hand though, both of these stem from other issues entirely. Issues that we could maybe overcome together.
​
Is that what this idle talk is about? Us trying to bury what happened today, so that we can act like it didn't?
​
Or is that me projecting my wishes onto the situation?
​
To make matters worse, as we gradually accept eachother's existence, the more it starts to feel like good old times. It's pleasant, but at the same time it tears at my heart with a force I've never felt before...
​
[Fang]
"Did you know that some feathered dinos have these tattoo-like markings that only come out under UV light?"
​
[Anon]
"No way, that's BS."
​
[Fang]
"Whuh-- No it isn't! It's totally cool you dweeb!"
​
I'm just about to retort when suddenly Fang recoils - with a blush and cute little yelp I might add -, putting both hands on her snout as if she said something she shouldn't have. The sudden gesture takes me aback as well, words stuck in my throat.
​
What's more her expression gradually sours, turning away from me, looking both sad and embarrassed. I couldn't really explain why, but immediately it worries me. Maybe that's just my cavemen instinct kicking in, or maybe because that's how I would have reacted back when we last exchanged banter like that.
​
[Anon]
"Are you okay?"
​
[Fang]
"Y-yeah, it's just..."
​
[Fang]
"You don't really look like a dweeb anymore."
​
Her statement confuses me further, and without thinking about it I reach for my face, decorated by weeks old stubble - much as young adult me could produce. I guess I've never noticed, but it feels sullen too, probably due to all the weight I've lost recently.
​
Well I have to admit, combined with the bags under my eyes, I'm sure I look more like a hobo than a nerd. I guess I just... I joked around that I must look like a meth addict or something, but on the inside I've never consciously made that connection before. I'm still as antisocial as ever and I still play vidya every now and again, so to me it didn't feel like such a big change.
​
It reminds me of something I've read once. Even if you have a consistent self-image, other people might perceive you different from one another, depending on just what aspects of yourself you let them know about. So to Fang I might have been a loveable dweeb once, and maybe I still think of myself along those lines, but for instance my coworkers never even knew me other than "that weird guys who never talks".
​
Could it be that Fang, too, is just now realizing that I'm not exactly the carefree lad I used to be?
​
Regardless, she takes charge of the conversation again. Albeit for a very short time.
​
[Fang]
"What happened to you, Anon? How did things--"
​
She cuts herself off abruptly. More precisely, a loud beeping sound does.
​
Her eyes go wide, scrambling to her bag fast as she can.
​
[Fang]
"Oh, fuck! Fuck! I've gone over my curfew!"
​
[Anon]
"...You have a curfew?"
​
Although it shouldn't surprise me at this point, I still can't mask the pity from my voice. It's not even that late, like, the sun is still way up. Late afternoon? Something like that.
​
Fang doesn't answer me, focusing her attention on collecting her meds. She must have noticed that a few items are missing, looking under the table and the bed for them. Maybe I'm just imagining it, but it kinda looks like her breathing is getting rugged again, so this could actually be a big enough deal to get a minor panic attack over.
​
Her movement suddenly freezes, however, once she notices something else on the floor.
​
The gun.
​
A heavy atmosphere fills the room at once, tension returning. Neither of us knows what to say or do, entranced by the mere vision of the weapon.
​
Usually, one would expect a gun laying on the ground to be at a crime scene, surrounded by bodies and blood. We came very close to just that today, too.
​
...
​
In the end, Fang puts it into her bag without any comment, making very sure not to look me in the eye while packing the rest of her stuff.
​
Once she's done she takes another good look around, inspecting the destruction left in her wake. That and the lemonade I've offered her, inanimate survivor of her assault.
​
She still wouldn't look at me, not even as she addresses her next few words to me.
​
[Fang]
"I'm gonna pay for these, I swear."
​
...
​
I don't know what to reply to that. "Yeah, you better"? I guess it goes without saying now that I won't report this to the police. So I end up saying nothing, sitting on the bed as I have this whole time.
​
With her back turned to me, Fang steps up to the door, lingering there for a while.
​
Maybe she wants to say she's sorry.
​
Maybe she's thinking about how to better kill me next time.
​
Maybe she's worried if her parents found out.
​
I don't even know if she's told them about her coming here, so that could mean trouble for her too.
​
...
​
[Fang]
"I-- I um..."
​
[Fang]
"I usually have lunch on the roof. You know, behind that little shed?"
​
Without giving me a chance to respond she rushes out the door, slamming it shut behind her.
​
For the next few seconds I listen to her footsteps echoing in the hallways.
​
Only as I robotically move to latch the locks, only as I'm left alone with the rubble, only as the silence returns do I realize... Yeah... These past few hours? They really have happened.
​
* * *
​
I spend the rest of the afternoon cleaning up, trying not to overthink the situation. But there's just so much on my mind right now, I can't even make sense of it. Fang's identity issues combined with those of my own, her heart problems for which I'm starting to blame myself, the attempt on my life and how it's starting to make less and less sense from Fang's point of view, what if she gets caught, so on...
​
I've never thought I'd say this, but I want so desperately to just talk to someone, to have them listen to my problems.
​
I mean, this should be a no-brainer. I should talk to Stella. As my girlfriend, she is THE person I should turn to with these things.
​
But would she care?
​
Like, she couldn't act as if this wasn't a serious topic, could she? I almost fucking died.
​
How much should I even tell her? What if she'd insist on calling the police or something else I don't want to do?
​
I don't even know why I'm not going to the police myself, it's probably cause I see this as the only chance I have getting close to Fang again.
​
To help her get better, surely. Nothing more.
​
...
​
In the end, I simply send Stella a message, asking her to call me when has the time. I estimate that it should give me at least a few more hours to think about everything, maybe even a day or more. By that time, I should have a more complete idea of what to do. Hopefully.
​
Right after sending the message my stomach rumbles, reminding me that I haven't eaten anything all day. We've never touched the snacks I bought while Fang was here, and I had to throw them away too, lest risking gulping down a few shards of glass.
​
The only thing I didn't touch was the glass of lemonade on the floor. I don't even know why. It was so improbable that it would go unspilled throughout the surrounding storm that it would feel wrong to do anything with it. Plus it served as a reminder that the scene straight out of an action movie really did happen. Here, in this room, to me.
​
I shake my head, adamant not to start analyzing the situation yet. I want to put some distance between me and everything that happened. I don't want to draw the wrong conclusions, and I don't want to spend the whole night anxiously tossing and turning, mulling over every possibility.
​
I've been letting my emotions get the best of me way too much lately, so...
​
I just want to calm down.
​
Normally I'd play Xrox, but that was out of the question. So I end up heating the lasagna and brewing some instant coffee, for the first time in a long while eager to subject myself to reading about dinosaur relationships. I honestly never could have guessed that it would serve as a catalyst for bonding with Fang.
​
I spend my meager meal learning about different seasons for different kinds of dinos. Like preening and stuff. I also look up those UV light thingies Fang mentioned, and to my surprise, they seem to be a real thing. I fail to see the evolutionary benefit in it, but I guess birds do birds.
​
If it wasn't for the cold night air coming from the window, I could almost forget that this wasn't a regular day in my mundane life. Sadly, I had no cardboard on hand and couldn't find any - that wasn't torn or mushy - by the dumpsters either, so I just drew the curtains for now. It's getting fucking cold though, even with the heater right by my feet.
​
Not wanting to catch a cold I opt fast to go to bed, seeking the protection of the sheets. Those little drops of Fang's blood are still visible, and I doubt they'll ever come out.
​
Despite my best efforts to keep THOSE thoughts at bay, I still can't not think about them. Especially about what Fang said as she left the flat.
​
She has lunch on the roof.
​
That would explain why I've not seen her in the cafeteria. But more importantly, the only reason she'd tell me about it was to imply she wants me to meet her there.
​
But should I really?
​
I can't deny, those few minutes we've spent exchanging weird dino facts and light insults... I don't know when was the last time these past three months I've felt so happy. It's not even about happiness, more like... It was normal. It wasn't me trudging through the rain to a workplace I hate, or to school where everyone hates me. It wasn't me staying up all night just to be ignored by Stella, and it wasn't me staring up at the ceiling at night, wondering where things went wrong.
​
It was... It was normal. I've felt normal. Like a guy my age actually should.
​
From a very young age, as a generally introverted person, I knew very well that a big part of the reason why I've hated the people around me was that I've envied them. Even if I never would have admitted to it aloud.
​
And I also know that I've had it better than most with Stella, before she moved away. Not counting the whole cheating thing, naturally.
​
But since then, it's all been downhill. And as I've concluded a few days ago, not all of it was my doing. It was as if some higher force was dead set on keeping me down.
​
Maybe it was a form of karmic balance for fucking up Fang's life. Probably not.
​
Still, I find myself chuckling about the idea. Karmic balance? Keep drawing those tarot cards and I might just end up like Stella.
​
Nah...
​
I shouldn't blame my insecurities on magic and stuff. That prediction from earlier, death, it didn't come to pass either. Surely, I was just being silly.
​
Surely.
​
* * *
​
The next day as I woke up, I've half expected things to turn back the way normally were. The window not to be shattered, the TV not to be blown up.
​
But no.
​
In a way, I've felt thankful for it. It helped solidify the facts in my mind, as I could no longer pretend she was just a dream. Then again, getting into a shootout was so out of my league that it might very well could have been a dream.
​
Stella never did call me, which meant she's either gonna do it in the next few hours, or way later at night. That should match her work schedule. Granted that she has work today and that her mother has no other activities planned.
​
Even on weekends, Stella often had to work. I guess we were the same in that regard. Except I've never really learned what her actual job title was. She was like an assistant or something, so from time to time she had to make an appearance for meetings and stuff. Like I don't know, to flip the slides on the projector or something?
​
Fang hasn't messaged me either. Now that worried me.
​
If she had a curfew it wouldn't be a stretch to think that her punishment would be getting her phone confiscated - as if she was little kid -, but... Did she get caught with the gun?
​
I keep expecting the police to come get me, sirens blaring across Skin Row. Technically I should count as a victim, I guess, but could me not turning Fang in mean that I was her accomplice now? Or are we talking about two separate crimes here? Theft and attempted murder? I don't even know. I'm too afraid to try contacting her in any case.
​
My thoughts are so all over the place that I forget today's tarot card, rushing to get to work through many-an-alley, avoiding the main streets as much as possible. Like I was some fugitive.
​
I'm on edge even as I arrive at the store. Fortunately, the reshelving has me occupied enough to eventually get my mind off of the whole getting arrested idea. Whatshername isn't in yet, so I hope I can dodge her today. I've got no funny looks from the others, so maybe she hasn't outed me as a creep - so far anyway.
​
I check on my phone every now and again to see if there's a message from Fang or Stella, but otherwise I keep focused on the task at hand. In fact I get so caught up in packing stuff that I don't even take my lunchbreak.
​
Some of the guys try talking to me, and they get the usual grunting treatment. I do listen in on their conversations this time though, trying to figure out if a shootout in Skin Row or the police commissioner - or whatever the fuck Fang's dad's rank was - getting into trouble made the news or not.
​
I guess the former isn't likely to make big ripples, nobody even came to check in on me; while the latter probably wouldn't make it into the news for a few days yet. If at all. I mean, it could just be an internal police affair.
​
Slowly, ever so slowly, the day winds down without anything out of the ordinary happening. Even whatshername is absent.
​
Honestly, I can't tell how grateful I am. For both.
​
I'm pretty tired though, having spent the day moving boxes and packing the shelves. Exhausted, even. Still, I have the foresight to "borrow" some cardboard. With some luck that should resolve the broken window situation.
​
Should make it less sucky in the very least. Maybe I can tackle on multiple layers and that'll do something.
​
Wobbly as my legs are, I risk taking the bus home. If I haven't heard from the police so far, it's unlikely they'll come after me now. At least that's what I keep telling myself, even as I try my best to keep my identity concealed - meaning I pop the collars of my jacket, attempting to hide my face like the weirdo I am.
​
I end up spending way too much time patching up the window, working around the remaining shards of glass and trying not to fall to my death. Nevertheless, I put three layers up rigorously, even going as far as draping an old pullover over it on the inside.
​
It uh, it looks like something straight out of a ghetto. So really, par for the course here in Skin Row. Not that I've really expected more with my level of craftsmanship.
​
Looks aside, the effects of it can be felt momentarily, the struggle of my poor electric heater actually making a difference.
​
And yet I keep my jacket on till the very last minute, practically falling face first into the pillows while still wearing outside clothes.
​
I'm a little saddened that Stella didn't call - and I'm still anxious about Fang as well -, but I'm too tired to really care. I realize that it's not even the repacking in itself that wore me down, having been awake for the vast majority of the last 72 hours is way more likely a culprit.
​
Not to mention all the excitement I've endured.
​
* * *
​
The morning goes by in a flash. Returning to old habits, I hit snooze three times over and if it wasn't for the knowledge that I have to meet Fang today, I would very likely call in sick. Alas, I stuff some moldy cereal in my face, and jump in and out of the shower in less than a minute.
​
I entertain the idea of shaving, though very briefly. I don't have the time, and I can't be bothered anyway. I'm not that keen on the whole hobo act - especially considering that my quote-unquote beard only grows in thin patches -, but it'll have to do for a while yet.
​
This time I remember to draw a card, however. In fact, I don't even have to touch it to know which one it is. Different from the rest of the pack, torn in half and glued back together. The Lovers.
​
The very same card Stella once tore up and threw in my lap, something I interpreted back then as her way of breaking up with me. Of course she didn't know which card it was at the time - she practically destroyed the entire deck.
​
We ended up staying together, sure, but still. It's not a nice memory. Even recalling it puts a bitter taste in my mouth.
​
Maybe I shouldn't have kept the card afterall...
​
I wonder if there's any significance to the last one I drew having to do with death and new beginnings. I don't even know if I'm trying to match it up with my meeting with Fang, or our fallout with Stella.
​
...
​
I do my best to banish these thoughts as I make my way over to Volcano High, with little success. Once again, though, I keep my eyes wide open, looking for any signs of Fang. I'm hoping that after our encounter this weekend, she won't play hide and seek anymore.
​
I also realize that the girl I chased into the bathroom last week - the one I wouldn't let out by being a creep in the hallway - probably wasn't Fang. At the concert she was VERY surprised to see me still farting around.
​
Oops.
​
As to be expected though, I don't see Fang till lunch period. Not physically anyway, but she did send me one message.
​
[Fang]
"dont bring lunch"
​
I'm a little confused by it, and at first I'm afraid she's calling off the meeting. Then it hits me that all she means, presumably, is that she has it covered. Maybe her class ended earlier and she could scope some kick-ass pizza or something.
​
That'd be really nice, cause I can virtually still taste the sawdust from the cereal. The weather is relatively nice too. Mostly sunny, with just a bit of wind, carrying leaves of all colors.
​
Still, the closer I get to my destination, the more on edge I am, ending up idling at the foot of the staircase for over a whole minute.
​
What if this is a trap?
​
What if Fang will try to shoot me again?
​
Or push me off the roof? Poison me?
​
I really, really desperately want to believe she just wants to make amends. I refuse to think that the girl giggling over dino crap could be an actual psychopath.
​
But... The sight of her pointing her gun at me is practically etched onto my retina. Loud bangs, flashing lights, that feeling of fear...
​
I want to believe in Fang, without a doubt I do, but... I'm afraid.
​
...
​
Guided by a sudden idea I reach for my phone, dialing her number. It takes a while, but she eventually picks up.
​
[Fang]
"Yeah?"
​
...
​
[Fang]
"Anon?"
​
[Anon]
"So uh, you're uhh... On the roof, right?"
​
[Fang]
"Yeah, hurry up! Food's getting cold."
​
H-hurry, huh?
​
It's not a trap. It can't be.
​
Fang wouldn't do that. She's not currently aiming the revolver at the door, waiting for the very second I make my appearance.
​
...Right?
​
[Anon]
"Y-yeah, okay. I'll be there in a sec."
​
[Fang]
"C-cool."
​
With her last statement, I sense some anxiety in Fang's voice. Did she catch onto the fact that I'm suspicious of her? Or...?
​
She hangs up before I could reply.
​
I take a deep breath, climbing the stairs with shaky legs. My resolve falters with every other step, but I hang on. I keep repeating one phrase in my head, as if it was some mantra.
​
Traps are gay.
​
Traps are gay.
​
Traps are gay.
​
Traps are gay.
​
It's not exactly right for the given context, but is's the only thing that keeps me going. A distraction more than anything.
​
Fang's not gay haha!
​
So she wouldn't lay a trap for me haha!
​
Not like last time, she's not so desperate anymore, right? Haha!
​
The creaking of the door is deafening, and I'm almost expecting the oh-so-familiar sound of a gunshot to follow. Is this what PTSD is like?
​
Seconds pass, and there's no bullet to splatter my gray matter over the concrete paneling.
​
I let out a breath I didn't even notice I was holding, stepping out into the light.
​
[Fang]
"Over here!"
​
Following her voice, I see Fang waving at me from the other side of the shed. Instead of a gun she's holding a blue lunchbox, decorated with all sorts of musical instruments. Her clothes are more on the tradwife end of the spectrum today, some sort of gown. It's to keep up appearances in public, I guess.
​
Point is, she's very fucking not threatening looking.
​
But... That could be a thing too. To lull me into a stupor, just before she stabs me in the back. Then there's the possibility of poisoning.
​
Nonetheless, the very fact that my gamble paid off and I didn't die puts me at ease - somewhat. The tensions in my shoulders drop, and I can finally stop saying "traps are gay" in my head.
​
I'm still cautious as I approach Fang, and... Honestly, once I'm standing before her I just don't know what to do.
​
Uh...
​
Yeah.
​
She's looking away too.
​
...
​
This is awkward.
​
[Anon]
"S-so uh--"
​
Fang interrupts me almost immediately, nearly hitting me square in the stomach as she suddenly hurls her package at me.
​
[Fang]
"Here!"
​
Her voice is high pitched, she's almost shouting. Plus she won't make eye contact, blushing hard. What's that all about?
​
Uh...
​
[Anon]
"That's um... A nice lunchbox?"
​
I really don't know what to do with it.
​
And where's my food, too, huh? Now that the existential dread subsided, I'm getting kinda hungry.
​
My helplessness seems to anger Fang, though she's doing her best to keep things civilized. I can tell.
​
[Fang]
"Christ, take it already you dork!"
​
She pushes the box into my hands before I can really figure out what she means - then it hits me like a wall of bricks.
​
Oh.
​
With a little fumbling around I open the thing, revealing a neatly organized meal. Peas and carrots, mushrooms, some kind of meat I can't place cause it burned into a crisp. There's even a cookie or two in there.
​
All in all, it looks very edible. Minus the meat, though it's miles better than anything I could make for myself. The cafeteria really went all out on this one.
​
[Fang]
"S-so...?"
​
[Anon]
"Huh?"
​
I look up at Fang, only to find out she's still avoiding my gaze. Her face is brighter red than it was, too. She's produced another box in the meanwhile, its contents matching the one in my hand, with the exception of the cookies.
​
[Anon]
"Oh, thanks."
​
...
​
It's getting awkward again.
​
Fang is mumbling something under her breath, but I can't quite make it out.
​
[Anon]
"What's that?"
​
Another mumble.
​
[Anon]
"What?"
​
...
​
She takes a deep breath, probably fighting the urge to slap the food right out of my hand.
​
[Fang]
"Sorry about the meat..."
​
[Anon]
"Oh uh... It's no problem. Guess the lunch lady had a bad day."
​
For a second there Fang opens her mouth to say something - something nasty I'm sure -, in the end turning away from me entirely, retreating behind her wings yet again.
​
I'm really baffled by her behavior. I mean, it's a way better than her trying to kill me, but... She's seriously one "Not like I want to" line away from being the biggest tsundere cliché on earth. Except more aggressive.
​
It's a whole lot different than the deer-in-headlights spell she was under back at the concert and at my place.
​
Is this somehow my fault? Like, did the old Fang resurface after our talk?
​
...
​
Maybe I shouldn't think so highly of myself.
​
Not wanting to bother Fang in any case, I patiently sit down by the wall, further examining the contents of the lunchbox. I just now notice that there's a little label on it too, its letters spelling my name.
​
It makes me feel all warm inside - quite the change after the chill I've felt climbing the stairs.
​
[Fang]
"...It's an apology..."
​
[Fang]
"...The food..."
​
[Fang]
"...I've made it..."
​
Her wing-shield-thingy is still up, making it hard to make out every one of her words. I think I got the gist of it anyway.
​
But wait, she cooked this? Like, in the kitchen, apron on and spatula in hand?
​
Since when does Fang cook?
​
This might be the most improbable part of our whole reunion. Way less believable than the Columbine reenactment I was afraid she's gonna pull on me.
​
[Anon]
"Y-you... Made it?"
​
I can barely speak I'm so awestruck.
​
I mean, okay, with that gown and all I can sort of see her being someone's wife but... Come on! This is Fang I'm talking about here!
​
She belongs on the stage, not by the stove!
​
[Fang]
"It was um, M-Mom's idea...."
​
Contrary to my bewildered state, Fang seems to have calmed down, lowering her guard. Her face is just as red as before, though.
​
I watch her take her place next to me on the ground, pulling a couple of plastic forks from her bag. I can't help but notice the bottles of pills in there too, causing me to cringle a little.
​
Fang acts as if she didn't notice, probably for both of our sakes. She also doesn't comment on my awkward fidgeting around as I accept the fork she offers me.
​
Feels weird to be sitting next to Fang - a girl - like this. I'm very much not used to it.
​
Would it make things worse if I scooted away or sat opposite of her? Yeah, probably...
​
I'm just about to accept the situation and chomp down on a carrot as I realize something, panic settling in again.
​
[Anon]
"Wait, your mom? You told her about--?"
​
Seems like Fang was anticipating the question, lowering her fork with a sigh.
​
[Fang]
"No."
​
[Fang]
"I wish I could have, but... I just told her I've accidentally tripped a classmate over, so I wanted to make up for it."
​
Uh-huh, okay, but--
​
[Anon]
"S-so the gun...?"
​
This time Fang's calm expression wavers, her wings jerking into motion seemingly on instinct. She subdues the urge to hide, clearing her throat.
​
[Fang]
"It-it's uh-- It's okay. I've put it back. Dad doesn't know."
​
So it was her father's revolver afterall. I mean it was kinda obvious, but it's good to know for sure anyway. Makes it less likely that she could carry it around all day.
​
I hate myself a little that I'm still so on guard, even if it's for good reason.
​
The discussion pretty much dies after that, silence growing over us.
​
Without anything better to do, I dig into the meal Fang has prepared for me, and from the corner of my eye I can see her doing the same.
​
Honestly, it's pretty good. I mean, it's nothing special, but I have no idea when was the last time I ate anything home-cooked. Probably something Stella brought over for a date or something.
​
Remembering those times makes me feel weird all over again, what with sitting next to another girl. As such, I force myself to focus on the present.
​
[Anon]
"Um..."
​
[Fang]
"Y-yeah?"
​
[Anon]
"It's um, really good. Thank you."
​
I can practically feel the blood rushing to my face, and I can now totally understand why Fang didn't want to look at me earlier.
​
Although this way I can't see her reaction, I'm pretty sure Fang is blushing too.
​
[Fang]
"J-Just eat it you dork, it's nothing special."
​
...
​
Well yeah, that's exactly how I described it too, but...
​
[Anon]
"I mean, it's a lot better than anything I could make, so..."
​
[Fang]
"Huh? You've never cooked anything before?"
​
...
​
[Anon]
"I uh... I've made sandwiches?"
​
I half expect Fang to make fun of me, so her laughter doesn't even surprise me. Her next comment, however, does.
​
[Fang]
"Want me to uh, t-teach you?"
​
[Fang]
"I-- I mean-- I'm not that good myself, so um--"
​
[Fang]
"Like--"
​
Once again her wings raise in rhythm with her short, panicked breaths. This time I intervene though, carefully but firmly keeping the feathered appendage down on my side, looking Fang in the eye.
​
[Anon]
"Y-yeah, I'd like that."
​
Unable to retreat behind her wings, Fang instead hides her face with her hands. I don't blame her for it, my heart is basically pounding right out of my chest.
​
I'm not even sure why I did that just now. Maybe cause I hate seeing Fang as a scaredy-cat. I don't know.
​
From behind her palms Fang nods at me, acknowledging the deal.
​
Right after, the bells ring, signaling the end of lunch period. And now I hate myself for spending so much time worrying about inane ideas like Fang being some sort of assassin.
​
We pack our respective lunchboxes hastily, though when I try to give mine back to Fang she refuses, telling me to take it home cause "I won't get anything better anyway". I don't argue with her.
​
On top of that, as I try to leave the roof Fang grabs the sleeve of my jacket.
​
[Fang]
"C-can I--"
​
[Fang]
"...See your shoulder?"
​
Huh? My shoulder?
​
I'm so surprised by her question that I don't even know what to say. I just nod at her like a mute.
​
A second later Fang gets up on her tippy-toes, running her slender fingers below my shirt by my neck, pulling it aside so she can get a view of my skin.
​
Then I understand what she meant.
​
Of course.
​
The scars from our fight with Stella. Sure they left their marks, but I've already forgotten about them. It was Fang herself who patched me up, so in a way she's entitled to see the result of her handiwork.
​
Let's just forget that it was also her who caused half those wounds to reopen not a day later, and that the bandages were had to be redone by an actual medical practitioner.
​
Forgetting is easier than I've thought, though, as a girl touching me like this is way too fucking intimate. Feels like it, anyway. Especially considering that I can feel her hot breath over my neck, slipping under my shirt.
​
Luckily her inspection takes no longer than a few seconds, and Fang lets go of me with one last sigh.
​
She doesn't say anything either, jogging to the staircase and slinking into the shadows, leaving me there with conflicted feelings.
​
* * *
​
The rest of the classes go by normally, though I can barely pay attention to any of them. Understandably so.
​
In fact, my inability to answer his questions angers one of the teachers so much that I'm put into detention. I can thankfully talk my way out of it today as I have work after classes, but I still have to fling by on wednesday.
​
Really though, I couldn't care less. I find it very hard to make sense of all the stuff that happened on the roof. Most notably Fang cooking lunch for me, and her offer to teach me how to cook. Like, these things are very fucking close to how I'd imagine dating a girl.
​
Except, of course, that we're talking about Fang. With her, dates used to go along the lines of smoking cigarettes and strumming random notes on her guitars, or walking around town trying to snag some booze.
​
I can't even tell if it was Fang or Lucy who I met today. I mean, clearly, it wasn't Fang the way I knew her. But with the constant anger management she had to put up, and the anxiety... Like... I seriously doubt that's how she acts in front of her parents when she's Lucy.
​
What does it all mean?
​
I have no idea.
​
One thing is clear at least, she's over the whole cutting me out of her life thing. Like, she flew over it in a monster truck while on fire and doing a backflip.
​
It would be a truly, truly outrageous lie to say I'm mad at her, it's just... Things are becoming way too complicated. At least it seems I won't have to worry about Fang getting caught stealing her father's gun. Now there's a weight off my shoulder.
​
Once I arrive at the store I deliberately try to shift my attention from this dilemma over to packing the shelves. It's a partial success, at least till whatshername arrives.
​
She doesn't come near me for the first few hours, and with the end of my shift getting close I'm starting to hope she won't either. I can see her throwing glances my way the entire time, but I'm not sure what it's about. Maybe she thinks I'm in love with her or something?
​
Yeah, fat chance.
​
Even if I was, I like to think I'd have the spine not to grovel by her feet after the way she treated me.
​
Then again, maybe she simply wanted to apologize. If Fang could get over her issues, maybe she can too. I should at least give her the chance, I guess.
​
That's the only reason why I don't punch her in the gut the moment she approaches me. Still, I don't turn to face her, packing various cans on the shelves.
​
[Girl]
"Hey Anon!"
​
[Anon]
"Uh-huh..."
​
...
​
There's a pause. She's probably reconsidering things.
​
[Girl]
"S-so after the concert um, I hooked up with this guy..."
​
[Girl]
"Went back to his place and all that."
​
...Okay? Why tell me about that now? Or like, ever?
​
Is she just trying to rub it in my face or something? I'm getting slightly more irritated.
​
[Girl]
"C-could you um, come over and tell Mom I crashed at your apartment instead?"
​
[Anon]
"What? Why?"
​
I'm so surprised at her request that I almost drop the can I was holding, very nearly knocking a few other items off the shelf.
​
[Girl]
"Well um, you see, you made a good impression on her so..."
​
[Girl]
"I don't want her to be mad at me cause I want to see Nathan on friday, and she wouldn't--"
​
[Anon]
"Are you for fucking real?!"
​
I can't stop myself from blurting that out. I'm baffled by the entire situation, yet disgusted at the same time. I know for a fact that she absolutely doesn't care about me, but I should still help her? How can one person be so vain?
​
[Anon]
"No, thank you."
​
[Girl]
"C'mon you dork, I'll go on a date with you for real!"
​
[Anon]
"No."
​
She comes closer, running her hand over my arm, massaging it gently. What's up with girls being so touchy today?
​
[Girl]
"Aww, please Anon, so how about I suck your--"
​
Now that's just fucking repulsive.
​
I shove her away, fed up with her attempts at seducing me. I'm careful so that I don't knock her over, for the sake of the shelves around us more than anything.
​
[Anon]
"How about you fuck off, huh?"
​
[Anon]
"Why are you even talking to me? I don't care enough to know your name, remember?"
​
Her expression darkens, looking around if there's anyone within earshot of us.
​
[Girl]
"I could just tell everyone what a pathetic simp you are, how about that?"
​
Hah! Is that the best she can do?
​
[Anon]
"You think I care? Yeah, go right ahead! Everyone already thinks that I'm a freak, so--"
​
[Girl]
"So what if I tell 'em you raped me?"
​
[Anon]
"W-what...?"
​
My blood freezes in an instant. S-she wouldn't--
​
She can't!
​
Certainly, I would have hated hearing casanova insults for weeks on end from everyone, but...
​
[Girl]
"Oh yeah, maybe I'll go to the police too. I'm sure people remember the guy making a scene at the concert. And the cab guy might remember your lame ass pickup line."
​
[Girl]
"So, what's it gonna be?"
​
Raptor Jesus on the fucking cross, just who is this girl?
​
I can totally believe she's not bluffing, but... Then how does the entire Christian rock thing come into the picture? Was all that about just one guy? Why even bother with the concert then?
​
...
​
[Anon]
"F-friday, right?"
​
Her eyes narrow, arms crossing over her modest breasts.
​
[Girl]
"You better make it happen. For your own good."
​
[Anon]
"O-okay. I um--"
​
[Anon]
"I'll call you?"
​
She doesn't answer, which I take as a sign of her approval, and that I should get lost.
​
I hesitate for a second, unsure if there's a way to fix the situation.
​
In the end I leave her behind as she graciously takes over packing the shelves for me. My shift is just about over anyway, so I posthaste call it a day and head the fuck home.
​
* * *
​
Well that certainly made everything more complicated.
​
Or maybe it hasn't?
​
All I have to do is show up at their place for an hour maybe. That's very doable.
​
But... I don't want to become her slave or errand boy. If I agree to this, that's practically me signing my own death wish.
​
Maybe I could report her threat to the police? What could they even do about it? Other than laugh in my face, a grown man bullied by an angsty teenager.
​
Just why did I lower my guard around her? I've spent like five minutes deliberating if I should ditch Fang, yet I couldn't-- Christ! What's wrong with me?
​
...
​
Huh? Wait a minute.
​
Fang.
​
Well...
​
Maybe if I got closer to Fang till friday then I could talk to her father about this?
​
I mean, he hates my guts, but... Say I fixed Fang-- No. If I fixed Lucy up for them, then...
​
Maybe he'd be thankful enough to hear me out?
​
I hate myself for even thinking about using Fang like that, but I mean, if this is the only way I won't go to prison over a false rape allegation, then...
​
...
​
Maybe I could escape to Mexico. Perhaps Rosa has family there who'd shelter me.
​
Or maybe I should go to France? Stella could talk her mother into letting me live with them till I find a job. If she still cares for me, that is.
​
But running away would just make it seem like I admitted to the rape charge, won't it?
​
Oh, this is a nightmare! I can't believe I'm being blackmailed by like a sixteen-year-old.
​
I really don't even want to consider it, but the prospect of sucking up to Fang's father seems more and more promising. Fang seemed like she wants to bury the hatchet, and she's certainly fucked in the head enough to go back to being Lucy if I tell her to.
​
Hell, maybe I can even convince her that I'm helping her.
​
The only problem is that I very possibly couldn't live with myself after that.
​
Still, the other option seems to be jail. In the very least, on top of being a loser everyone would think of me as a rapist too, even if my name got cleared in court.
​
...
​
Once again, I hate that I have no one to talk to. Where's Reed when you need a miracle?
​
* * *
​
The thoughts about using Fang to get to her father haunt me for the rest of the day, and I can barely focus on anything I'm doing. In fact, I end up spending most of the time sitting on the bed and staring at the glass of lemonade on the floor. I don't even touch the delicious food Fang cooked personally for me.
​
Stella eventually calls me, which I'm thankful for, even if I'm not one bit closer to figuring out what to tell her. Quite the opposite, really.
​
I hope we can figure something out together, if she'll hear me out.
​
[Stella]
"Hey sweetie!"
​
Oh wow, I already forgot she calls me that.
​
It feels surprisingly good to hear, maybe better than any other time I've heard her say it. It feels good to hear her voice too.
​
A warm feeling spreads inside my chest, and it takes me some effort not to tear up.
​
I guess it's like... Stella being her cute, aloof self is the only constant in my life right now.
​
[Stella]
"Anon?"
​
[Anon]
"H-hey!"
​
[Stella]
"Is everything okay?"
​
[Stella]
"Sorry I can't turn the camera on, I'm still on my way home."
​
[Anon]
"That's um... It's okay."
​
[Anon]
"So you've been to the office today?"
​
[Stella]
"Yeah, it's inventory week so I was helping the boss with copying and shredding stuff. I just didn't notice how the time flew me by."
​
[Stella]
"Sorry about that, haha! So anyway, what did you want to talk about?"
​
...
​
What indeed?
​
For maybe the first time in my life, I've actually enjoyed meaningless chit-chat. It was just so nice to hear about Stella, to be part of her calm and normal world for just a little bit.
​
But it's time to get back to the drama, then.
​
[Anon]
"You uh, you remember Fang, right? She's a pterodactyl?"
​
It's a stupid question, but thankfully Stella takes it at face value, her tone only slightly sounding suspicious.
​
I guess it's a start.
​
[Stella]
"Uh-huh, what's up with her?"
​
[Anon]
"Yeah, I uh, I met her at that concert the other day."
​
[Stella]
"At the Trinity for Hire one?"
​
[Anon]
"That's the one."
​
I nod instinctively, not realizing that Stella can't see it.
​
Actually I couldn't have told her even if the name was incorrect, cause I've never bothered to remember it. Not that it really mattered in the grand scheme of things.
​
[Stella]
"How's she doing?"
​
Over the phone like this I can't tell if Stella actually cares about Fang, or if she's just being polite. Maybe she's trying to help me go on with the story.
​
I smile a little at that latter idea. Stella certainly should know me enough to assume I have something to tell her, even if I can't bring myself to it.
​
[Anon]
"She's uh... She's doing okay, mostly."
​
...
​
[Stella]
"Oh, so that's um... That's good?"
​
[Anon]
"Yeah, she... Actually she came over, and uh..."
​
Another pause. God, how can I even phrase this? What should I say?
​
Sweat collects on my forehead, hands starting to shake. I can clearly feel my pulse picking up too, heart beating away at my suddenly parched throat.
​
[Stella]
"...Yea?"
​
[Anon]
"She wanted to uh, she uh..."
​
[Anon]
"She wanted to beat me up again."
​
Well, that's not really the truth, but I don't want to be overly dramatic. For all intents and purposes, this should work too, right?
​
[Stella]
"Oh gosh! But... Why? Is she still mad at us?"
​
At us.
​
It's a very short phrase, yet those two words take me unprepared. It doesn't really help me coping with the situation any.
​
Is Stella consciously acknowledging that there's still an "us"?
​
I mean, she didn't ever say there wasn't, but...
​
In any case, I can think about that later. I should answer Stella first.
​
In her letter Fang explicitly wrote that she wasn't mad at Stella, not that much at least. Then again, that whole letter could have been forged just to get to me.
​
Though she did say she's sorry after trying to shoot me, so uh...
​
[Anon]
"I uh, I think she was. It's uh--"
​
[Stella]
"Are you okay? Did she hurt you?"
​
[Stella]
"Hold on a sec, I'll get off at the next stop so we can talk, okay?"
​
Huh. She actually cares?
​
Oh fuck, I'm starting to panic now for real.
​
I guess I just expected Stella to brush me off like usual. I didn't even honestly think she'd contact me today.
​
I'm kinda shocked that the conversation hasn't devolved into us talking about mundane shit, like anime for instance - and oh how I would enjoy that right now. Maybe since Fang's name came up Stella is treating it seriously this time?
​
The one time I wish she didn't.
​
Wait, if I intend to "get closer" to Fang, can I even tell Stella about it? Makes me feel like a dick after how worried she sounded, but it's not like I can ask her advice on how to cheat on her. Even if it's just for show so I can get to Fang's father.
​
[Anon]
"Yeah, uh, you know, you can stay on the bus or whatever, it's fine. I'm not hurt cause Fang just took her gun and left so it's all good yeah? Okay I have to go now too, bye! Love you!"
​
By the end I'm talking way too fast, not giving one single opening for Stella to respond before I hang up.
​
But wait, did I just say...?
​
Oh fuck, I totally said gun, right?
​
Yup, and that fact isn't lost on Stella either, going by her next message.
​
[Stella]
"did u say gun???"
​
Oh god, she's calling me.
​
Fuck what do I do?
​
[Anon]
"Y-yeah?"
​
Immediately, I'm bombarded by questions.
​
[Stella]
"Gun? What gun? Anon are you hurt? What gun are you talking about? Anon?"
​
Fuckity fuck fuck!
​
DAMAGE CONTROL
​
DAMAGE CONTROL
​
[Anon]
"Kshhhh-- Bad signal! Kshhhhhh-- Can't! Ksssh-- Hear you!"
​
In the background I can clearly hear Stella further enquiring about the gun, but I hang up on her again.
​
That uh, that went terribly wrong.
​
Shit. This is not good at all.
​
My phone is practically blowing up with new messages from Stella, so in my panic, I turn it off altogether.
​
It's uh, I guess it's time to go to sleep, right? Gotta get up early for school! Haha!
​
* * *
​
Naturally, I can barely close my eyes let alone fall asleep.
​
I sorta felt like things would start to calm down after the rooftop meeting, but then it just kinda went back to nightmare mode zero to hundred in a snap. Makes me feel like a hypocrite for how long I was whining about my life being gray and boring, yet now there's no price I wouldn't pay just so things could go back to normal.
​
...
​
Might as well have that soul-searching-session right now, it's not like I'll get any sleep either way.
​
So... How does this work?
​
I'll uh...
​
Okay.
​
Who am I?
​
That's a pretty standard question to ask while soul searching, I suppose.
​
Not that, of course, I could answer it.
​
I try going about it in simple terms, like "I'm a nerd" or "I'm just me". But while the former doesn't feel a satisfactory answer anymore, the latter is too vague to be of any help.
​
So uh, I guess... Why isn't it a satisfactory answer?
​
...
​
Cause like, I'm too adult now? Like I have a job and stuff and don't play video games all day? I've never been the booksmart kind of nerd, just the video-gamey nerd.
​
I mean at best I'm a young adult. I still have a lot of years before me - hopefully. But then is that who "me" is? A nameless nobody adult, one out of many?
​
Huh.
​
I mean, that's been sorta me for a while. Like, the entire past decade?
​
I didn't really aspire to be anything more than a face in the background, so that people would leave me alone.
​
So that's it? I'm just reaping what I sow?
​
That would be a plausible answer, but I'm not too eager to accept it. On the one hand it's too depressing, but on the other I honestly don't feel like that's all there is to it.
​
That's because in the end I DID let my guard down. I did go out of my way to befriend people. Hell, I've even got a relationship or two!
​
It should be proof enough that it's not just that my antisocial behavior came back to bite me in the ass. I won't deny that I probably have several problems stemming from this very issue alone, but it can't explain everything.
​
So... Who am I?
​
...
​
...
​
This isn't really going anywhere, I can't give a more detailed answer than before.
​
Then uh... What are some things I do that define me? Like, how do other people see me?
​
Well, I guess a lot of them see me as a weirdo and a loner, but... For one thing, I can hold down a job.
​
In fact, I've never gotten one single complaint from the managers. I've never got promoted either, but I guess this should mean I'm normal on some level.
​
I don't think I'll really get a better answer, so fine, let's suppose I'm not a lost cause, and that my misery should have external reasons.
​
Like, what's the deal with Stella?
​
With all the "missed" online dates and mindless babble she subjects me to, I was seriously beginning to think she moved on. There's an unquestionable distance between the two of us, and I honestly don't feel like I'm part of her life anymore.
​
But the way she acted today - or shit, is it past midnight yet? - proves that she still does care about me.
​
I mean, okay, I assume if I had a friend I'd be pretty upset learning that they almost got shot and tried to hush it.
​
And yet Stella still calls me sweetie, and she's never once brought up the topic of breaking up. Sure, she can be in the same boat as me and either too scared to, or just letting things run their natural course, but...
​
It's not like she couldn't just stop replying to my messages altogether. If she wanted to really cut me out of her life, she could do it easily.
​
But she didn't.
​
So what's that mean?
​
...
​
Again, I try simple terms. It's cause she's still in love with me.
​
With this reasoning, it would be really easy to explain why she still talks to me and calls me sweetie, and why she got so upset over the prospect of my demise.
​
But there's just something wrong with this picture. If she was in love with me, why doesn't it feel like it? Why am I having these doubts?
​
Is this just how distance relationships are, and I'm reading too much into it? That doesn't sound right either.
​
...
​
Fine, once again let's just assume the most plausible explanation, and say Stella still feels for me.
​
So what am I going to do about it?
​
I really wish I could fix things with her. Not only that last phone call, but all of the fuckups I've piled up till now.
​
I guess I could be proactive and go out of my way to call her more often, to ask her about her day and all that. Just be extra nice. Regardless of how I feel about the futility of such effort, it's not like I could just call her and try.
​
After the way I've sperged out on her, it'll take a lot of time to smooth things over. That is, if she'll even let me.
​
Like, I guess I can just tell her I've panicked? That is the truth, essentially. She should know me enough to understand.
​
But then I'd have to explain why I wanted to lie to her in the first place. Not a nice - or easy - conversation to have.
​
Especially since it concerns my feelings towards Fang.
​
So uh, let's talk about Fang, I guess.
​
I don't even have to think about a question, it throws itself at me right away. A very prevalent one at that.
​
Am I in love with Fang?
​
...
​
I... Don't know.
​
Hopes and fears, dreams and rationale clash in my brain, in my heart.
​
I can't deny that I feel something. But can it be love?
​
Bad as it sounds, still I ask myself: what reason do I have to love Fang?
​
She's not the kind of person she used to be. If it wasn't for my inexplainable hopes that I can "bring her back", would I have any reason to be friendly towards her? If she was anyone else, would I care?
​
Again, I don't know.
​
Or maybe I'm convincing myself that I don't, cause I wouldn't like the answer?
​
Doesn't that mean that I WANT to be in love with her? Or that I actually am, and refuse to think I'm not?
​
What reason would I have to want to be in love with her if I actually am not? Could it be that I'm using her as an outlet because of the whole Stella situation?
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I guess that wouldn't be all that different as to why I agreed to go on a date with whatshername.
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But...
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Still, I care for Fang. In my soul I know it. Honestly, I do care.
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I don't want to see her suffering like this, and I think I can help her. Plus the way she acts, I feel like she's trying to be friendly too. Maybe even more than friendly.
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Would I stop her advances?
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...
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Do these questions really mean anything when my current plan is to deceive her?
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If I successfully push her all the way to being Lucy, well, maybe I could act like her friend, even her boyfriend, but... Would it mean anything?
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Perhaps I could lie to myself too, accept some vague idyllic facade of happiness, numb myself to reality and become a loving Christian husband.
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What would that mean though?
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Is that how other people achieve happiness? By thrusting themselves into the first lie that does indeed make them feel happy?
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Am I just some retard romantic who still thinks happiness is achieved through effort? What difference would it make if I put on the honey-goggles? I'd still be happy. Isn't that what matters?
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...
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I don't know.
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Maybe I just feel like it'd be selfish. To push Stella away without regard, to allow Fang to live a lobotomized hollow shell of a life just so that we could fool ourselves into being happy.
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And yet it's so tempting.
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All my problems would just go away, and I'd never have to look back. What's more, if I had a decent life with a happy wife and kids, I'd make my family proud too. What my old man wouldn't give to have his son make it in life.
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So many reasons why this is the right choice, still, it feels everything but right.
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...
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I don't know. I don't know anything.
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This whole soul-searching thing led nowhere.
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What conclusion is there to make?
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I'm uncertain about Stella and wish we could fix things. Except I'd need to explain things to her how I want to fake-cheat on her.
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And why do I want that? Well because I'm either really in love with Fang and it's not even fake cheating, or it's that I want to use someone vulnerable to achieve a selfish goal.
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Except that the very reason why I've wanted to talk to Stella was to ask for help how NOT to do that.
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Nothing makes sense anymore.
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I didn't even touch on the subjects of Fang's attempted murder-suicide, or the fact that I'm such a psycho that I almost let her die.
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...
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The first waning rays of sunlight penetrate the cracks left around the cardboard, and suddenly I realize it's morning.
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I feel just as tired and pathetic as before.
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Guess I'll just soldier through classes and detention, then... Maybe I can try this thing again once I get home.
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Is there anyone else I could maybe talk to?
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Evidently, Reed would be the first person I'd go to in a situation like this, but that's not an option now.
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Trish? No. Not even if I knew how to contact her.
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Rosa? Maybe, but I doubt I'll see her anytime soon.
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Spears?
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Well... He did seem to care, and he did try to give me advice earlier, but... I don't feel like whining to him about my insecurities. He's probably busy anyway.
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Oh well, time to start the day I guess.