::
2006 8 February :: 5.33 pm
:: Mood: Whistful
:: Music: Where Soul Meets Body -- Deathcab for Cuties
No Assumptions
Have you ever had that one person at school..?
You've known them for about a year, perhaps, and you two are pretty good friends.
You have some ghey little relationship thing going on like.. 'teacher' to 'student' or 'master' to 'slave', something you joke about whenever you see eachother?
Which really isn't often.
Though when you do see each other, you go "Heeeeey" and give them a hug -- all buddy-buddy.
You've always kind of liked them.
Secretly.
You'd never let them know.
And then one week..
Things seem to change.
You seem to see that person quite a few more times a day, and each time you hug and chat and accompany them on their way to class because you're apparentally going to same way.
Though you've never caught them going that way before..
Anyways, for a week, you see eachother between three or four periods.
You hug.
You walk.
You chat.
Hell, you even make a pact.
"No more assumptions," you both agree, and shake hands on it -- how cute.
You must part now.
You hug again.
You walk your way and they turn sharply to the left, leaving you with the willies.
You can't help assuming.
You see them before seventh all the time, chatting with a group of the gender they belong to by some door.
You identify one of your closer friends - whom happens to be in your next period - and approach.
You know most of them, if not personally then by reputation.
You hug your 'special' friend.
And there you stand.
Laughing.
For two whole minutes.
Your friend's arms around you.
And it could be compared to one of the greatest feelings in the world.
This pre-seventh period holding ritual continues.
From Monday on.
That same Monday, you add a kiss on the cheek with the hug.
You two have been hugging all day - perfectly reasonable, no?
They happily return it, and you're overjoyed.
This continues through the days.
They seem to kiss your cheek rather close to your lips each time..
Odd, no?
You can't help but be excited.
Assuming.
Thursday comes round and the usual hugging and holding.
Now you must go to seventh period.
You kiss them on the cheek.
Though they pull you back.
"Kiss me on the lips," they say, and push their lips against your's.
Once.
You must be blushing.
Twice.
They must be able to hear your heart breaking through your ribs.
Your better-next-period friend pulls you away, you in a fluster of giggles.
You must have a tomato for a face, right?
You sit down in seventh period with the never-ending substitute trauma and begin to work.
Your better-seventh-period-friend -- let's call him Chris Casey -- asks you for a piece of paper.
You oblige simply.
You have plenty and everyone needs paper to work.
Soon, the paper returns.
You blink, reading it over.
"Next time they do that, I think you should shove your tongue down their throat," Chris has scrawled.
You laugh quietly, more to give him the satisfaction that it's funny.
Though you're actually accepting the idea - maybe you will french kiss them next time.
This note-scribbling continues and you end up giving good ol' Chris some sweet advice about some girl named Alyssa, though the whole time.. you're thinking about them.
Their lips.
The feel.
Their warmth.
How you wish you could have stayed a little bit longer.
Maybe you two could go out..
Assuming.
Friday rolls around and you're excited to see them again.
But..
You don't.
You're a bit disappointed - you don't see them all day.
Of course, they're probably absent, you reason with yourself.
Definitely.
Of course they are.
Everyone gets sick.
The weekend.
You laugh and have fun, but you can't wait until Monday.
To see them.
Monday.
A whole week of hugging and those two little pecks on the lips..
You might just die if you don't see them soon.
Will they be happy to see you?
You hope so.
You assume so.
You tramp to first period, terribly tired.
And you see them.
You smile.
But.. they are with..
Some girl named Alyssa?
You can't help staring, they're leagues ahead of you in the hall.
A pang of jealousy strikes your heart.
She's new, you remind yourself, they're.. probably just helping her?
You nod to yourself.
That's it.
That's all.
You assume.
They stop at the door.
Your heart stops as well.
For they now hold eachother, sharing that same embrace as you had with them.
And you could swear you had died, even if it was just a hug.
They walk away and Alyssa enters the building.
You quickly hang your head, pretending you hadn't seen, continually sauntering.
They walk right past you.
They don't even see you.
Monday continues dully and you are forced to forget this trauma due to a terrible head cold.
Suxxors.
Tuesday rolls around.
FCAT Writes.
GHEY.
You have to write an essay about how you'd make a classroom more comfortable.
TERRIBLY GHEY.
You scribble in your testing book while you wait for the time limit to be called.
"No assumptions"
That's what you wrote, remembering the hand shake fondly.
You smile.
This is your pact.
It's special.
Though you've already broken it so many times.
I wish you could notice..
But you will.
Soon.
The rest of the time limits tick on by, you are now discreetly picking your nose with a tissue to keep from dripping mucous all over your test.
Soon you're in fifth period.
Sixth period.
Pre-seventh period..
You wander out into the hall, looking for the casual group, Chris, and maybe 'them'.
And there you see them.
With some-girl-named-Alyssa.
Who is new.
They're holding her just like they held you four days ago.
You don't spot Chris.
You sulk into class, down-heartened, but your favorite teacher's back!
SCORE.
It's after school.
You're walking with your jolly old chums to the after-school hang out.
A supermarket.
You guys are sooo cool.
And then they walk up.
With Frank.
That cool guy with the Emily the Strange guitar.
They say "Oh, hey."
You say "Hi.."
Nothing.
No hug.
He doesn't even really seem to notice you.
You shrug it off.
It must have been an in-depth conversation.
You assume.
It's about some girl they wanted to date.
But she was just too immature for them.
"Just a fuckin' kid," they swear.
You hope to all hell and heaven combined that he hasn't said anything like that about you.
You aren't 'just a fuckin' kid'.
You're..
Well..
You.
You assume.
You sit next to the supermarket with your life-source, Dr. Pepper.
You remember passing some-girl-named-Alyssa-who-is-new on your way to the machine.
You hope she hadn't seen them.
They - them and Frank - casually sit about five feet away.
They don't notice you.
Of course not.
But just your luck.
Here comes some-girl-named-Alyssa-who-is-new.
You swallow hard, watching them hug.
She goes and sits on a short pillar.
They go to her.
They stand..
Inbetween her legs.
You cough - of course, it's alright, you're sick.
You try to pay attention to your friends, but you can't.
You glance over again, and..
And..
They're kissing.
Deeply.
So close.
You feel like you could cry, but you force yourself to look away.
You're shattered.
And then you noticed..
You assumed.
You assumed everything.
You don't deserve them!
You can't even keep a simple pact!
You're worthless!
In the end, you're drawing.
Singing.
Coughing.
To get out the petty pain you feel.
You look over your work, a nice little message scrawled to them on the bottom.
It's beautiful.
It matches.
It's your feelings.
Maybe you'll give it to them.
Maybe you'll be able to let go..
You reread the message of the picture.
You can't help but read out loud.
Dear Vince,
Thanks for playing.
No assumptions,
Emily
7 Ways To |
Cut a Corpse |
