FicWad

This was just mean to be a quick, funny drabble but then it turned into something much more... And something far more angsty...

Well anyway, enjoy, and all feedback is appreciated.


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Humour Me

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"Dude! Wha- what the fuck are you doing!?" I screech very loudly (and not at all in a girly way) as Jared wraps his arm around me tightly, holding me against his chest.

Darkness.

Warmth.

Dampness.

And I can't breathe properly.

I panic for a moment, thinking I'm blind and lost, but then I remember that I'm neither, and in reality I'm just experiencing one of my friends' bear hugs... and since I'm much shorter than him my face landed smack bang against his chest.

I notice that he stinks of chlorine from the pool... and though just a moment ago he was complaining about being cold he's surprisingly warm... I frown at my thoughts.

Jared doesn't seem to have heard me before, that or he chooses to ignore me - probably the latter - and he continues to just keep me there in place; my face smushed against his manboobies and his hands lingering on my lower back. Way too close to my arse for comfort.

I'm not sure what to feel... Disgusted, confused, angry, annoyed... so I settle on awkward. It describes this situation wholly well. Awkward. Simply awkward.

I stand here stiffly; his arms tight around me while mine hang limply by my side. Awkward. Yes, that's a very good description. I decide to congratulate my brain on it's brilliance with vocabulary... But that only distracts me for a second before hysteria begins to take over.

The hell is this freak doing!?

I begin squirming and fighting against him - wait no, scratch that - I begin attempting to squirm away and fight against his hold. But Jared is built like a brick shithouse and his arms are like workshop clamps, I can barely move, barely breathe, and if I'm lucky maybe I'll pass out and not remember this later... but then again, can I honestly trust him with my unconscious body... ?

I start struggling more fervently.

Never before have I despised being so damn short and scrawny before. Never ever, not even when our homeroom teacher mistook me for a girl - which was pretty bad. But that humiliation would pale in comparison to this... or rather if anyone saw me like this: locked up in an awkward, cold, wet, half-naked (vaguely gay) manhug with my slightly chubby, gentle-giant (metro?) of a best mate.

I let out a sigh (muffled by his naked chest) and my wrap my arms hesitantly around his back. High up on his back - as in nowhere near his arse. Silently hoping that this will appease the giant, which will thus free the damsel in distress.

Not that, y'know, I'm comparing myself to a damsel in distress, or a damsel period. 'Cause I'm nothing like that. If anything I'm a victim. Who is male. And not at all damsel-like, but in fact is very very manly, but is maybe a little (understandably) distressed. Yes, that is an accurate description of my current status - I once again congratulate my brain.

His arms tighten around me and he sighs contentedly... I decide very suddenly that I do not at all like where this is going and that he is being way too cuddly (and his hands much too curious about the structure of my back and the bump of my tailbone).

So instead of letting him back off, I decide to valiantly take matters into my own hands and do the manly thing.

I start to whine at him. Whine so that he will let me go.

Whine. Grumble. Coo. Shriek. Giggle.

That's how the next few minutes go.

I whine at him. He doesn't respond. I grumble with annoyance. He coos softly in my ear. I shriek with terror. He giggles at my terror with the glee of a true sadist.

And then the vicious cycle starts again.

And again.

And again.

And once more, until I'm totally over this stupidity and we fall into silence.

The awkwardness is back... not that I think it ever really left. Rather that it was momentarily overcome by terror, stupidity and annoyance. But mostly terror.

Now feeling bored and fed up, I wriggle experimentally, wondering if his grip has lessened, and of course it hasn't so I give up. I contemplate starting to whine again, wondering if I can annoy him enough to make him want to let me go. If it was anyone else I'm sure it would work but Jared is one of those completely level-headed superhuman people who can take endless amounts of crap and not even frown with slight irritation. I often contemplate the likelihood of his ancestry starting from aliens.

Instead I stand up on my tiptoes, putting all of my weight against him and peak over his shoulder, partly because I want to see how dark it's gotten and partly because I'm paranoid someone is watching.

No one's watching. And it's already pretty dark the sky half blue half fading gold.

I start shivering, the wind picking up around us and making the skin on my back chilly. What a dumbshit, I think, what kinda idiot comes up with the dumbfuck idea of going swimming in the pool during winter? I'd kick his arse if I could move.

I also pointedly ignore the fact that I happily agreed to the dumbshit idea.

I glance up at him and I'm startled to find him staring down at me, watching me.
He seems intent on keeping his blue eyes on my brown ones so I frown and scowl at him hoping he'll get the message I've been trying to get across to him: to get the fuck away.

If he understands, he chooses to ignore it.

"Okay seriously Jared, let go. Now." I say, deadly serious.

He hums slightly as though considering it and then hides his face on the top of my head. I can feel his hot breath beating against my scalp, and I really wish I had one hand free so I could push his face away.

I try whining again.

"Jared it's cold. I want to get inside and get dry and warm."

I feel him grin against my damp hair and the way his breath stutters out in a chuckle before he moves his hands up my back and pulls me closer. He roughly rubs my shoulders creating friction and forcing warmth back into them.

Well.

That backfired.

I shudder under his touch feeling increasingly frustrated and try to elbow him away.
That doesn't work either.

I try a new tactic.

"I love you man, but I'm not gay." I chuckle half-heartedly, really wanting him to just let me go, "So c'mon just let me go."

Jared snorts in response, and though I can't see him, I can feel him shaking his head in disbelief in the way his chin keeps moving back and forth against my hair.

"Dude, everyone but you seems to know you're gay. Just admit it Jess. Honestly, you're parents are counting down the seconds until you come out and tell them. I think everyone at school is betting on when you'll make it 'official'."

Rage. Hot, putrid and choking; all-consuming anger washes over me. Fuelling my eagerness to escape and increasing urge to punch Jared fair square in the jaw.

"Lies!" I hiss, stretching away from him as far as his grip will allow and pounding at his chest angrily.

Jared just chuckles in a way that seems condescending and pisses me off even more. He lifts one hand from my back and for a moment I'm frozen, wondering where he'll place it - for a stunned second, considering the possibility he'll slap me across the face -a nd then it gently lands on my head. He starts petting my hair, as though I'm some kind of demented dog that needs calming.

I kinda feel like a deranged dog, one that will lash out at anyone who mentions the word 'gay'.

I decide that I will, indeed, bite the next person to question my sexuality. And not in a sexy way, in a way that Hannibal would be proud of, and will lead people to instead question my sanity. Or consider if I suffer from Mad-cow or rabies. I'd much prefer that.

Randomly I realise my hands are still resting against his back so I drop them back to my sides, scowling. He doesn't deserve my hugs and certainly not a cuddle.

Jared holds me a moment longer, swaying slightly (which I refuse to give into) before he sighs, flicks my nose and lets me go completely.

Stumble. Shout! Splat. ...... Ouch.

I find myself hugging the cemented ground, arms spread wide.

I decide that, even though he is extremely annoying, I prefer hugging Jared.

With him there's none of this scraped skin, and all-over aching.

We're both silent for a moment, shocked, and then Jared bursts into laughter.

"Dude, nice show, nice show!" He rumbles between laughs, "Not only was that quite a fantastic face plant but you even squealed, squealed, on the way down. Brilliant. Bloody brilliant. If only we'd had a camera. That would’ve definitely gone viral."

I lift my face up and glower up at him, to see the amusement dancing in his eyes as he guffaws at me. My cheeks start burning from embarrassment along with the pain.

"You shut up, you arsehole." I growl my jaw stiff with pain, "And I did not squeal. I yelled. In surprise. There's a huge difference."

Jared snorted, "You keep telling yourself that Jess, but I think we both know that you just squealed like a preteen Belieber* fangirl."

"Fuck off."

"Okay then."

And then he walks away, picks up his beach towel from beside the deck chairs, and wanders off towards the gate that leads to the driveway.

I blink for a second, surprised, and then shout after him.

"Are you telling me that's all I had to say all along to get you to let me go?"

He shuts the wooden gate behind him flipping the latch back in place, "Yup." He says a shit-eating grin stretching over his face before he winks at me from the otherside of the gate.

I glare for a moment, convinced he's planned this whole thing: the hug, the struggle, the face plant and the scream (not squeal). And take a moment to decide the best way to show him my fury.

"Screw you!" I screech.

"Jeez man, just one second ago you didn't even want to hug me, now you're talking sex?" He says with mock surprise and I want nothing more than to strangle him.

But moving around hurts too much so I flip him the bird.

He waves back cheerfully and then disappears down the driveway out of sight.

I let my face fall back down against the concrete.

I'm annoyed, cold, angry, on-edge and feeling pathetic and self-pitying. I wallow in my misery for a moment before getting to my feet and walking back inside the house, towel wrapped tightly around my quaking shoulders.

I try not to think about Jared or the hug, or this afternoon at all.

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What an arse.

What a super jerky arse of arseholery and jerkishness.

I want to kill Jared right now, kill him.

He's damn lucky that he walked straight home from the gate and didn't come back inside the house. He probably knew I was going to (am going to) kill him the next time I saw him.

I frown for a second...

Wait.

That bitch never said goodbye!

He's so rude sometimes.

And annoying, and crappy, and stupid, not to mention an arsehole and a jerk. He also gives shitty hugs. Very horrible, awkward, uncomfortable shitty hugs that spew crappiness and unhappiness. I make a mental note to tell him all of this tomorrow at school.

I squirm on the couch, glaring at the doorway in case one of three labelled person types wanders in. Type a) being someone who I do not want to see (i.e. my sister). For this type I plan to glower, glare, scowl and watch creepily until they feel unnerved enough to leave.

Type b) being someone who I do not want to see (i.e. my parents). For this type I plan to glower, glare, scowl and reply moodily to all their nosy questions until they feel fed up enough to leave. Type c) being someone who I do not want to see (i.e. Jared). For this type I plan to glower, glare, scowl and then proceed to rip him limb from limb and feed the served limbs to my feral sister until he is completely gone.

Through my bloody, gory (vaguely homicidal) thoughts I hear footsteps nearing.

I pray for Type C).

Enter: ... Blonde beach hair, tanned skin, bikini and boardie clad Sarah.

A.k.a. Type A).

A.k.a. Not Type C).

A.k.a. Annoying bitch.

Upon seeing me on the couch, towel still draped across my shoulders, Sarah(the she-demon) smiles and skips (yes skips) over to the couch beside me and plonks her (fat) arse next to my butt (which is not fat thank you very much).

She stares at me with her brown eyes surrounded by fake lashes and lays a hand gently on my shoulder. I decide it's best to immediately iniate the action plan for Type A). I begin glaring at her.

She flutters her lashes and smiles sweetly at me. A sure sign she's up to something. Something which will lead to either my humiliation, irritation, mortification or death.

Phase 1 appears ineffective.
Begin phase 2.

I start scowling at her.

"So," She begins, the sweet facade still in place, "I saw you and Jared out there... Looking pretty friendly. Something you want to tell me?" Her voice is light and airy, with a smug undertone that sounds suspiciously like an I-told-you-so (though she told me nothing of the sort).

I answer, "No. There's nothing to say" Still glowering at her from where I'm perched on the couch (in a way she often tells me is creepy and makes me look like a gargoyle).

She smiles, squeezing my shoulder softly again which I know is meant to be mocking and not supportive like she wants me to think. She sighs and stays annoyingly persistant with keeping her stern eye contact with me.

"Really now? It certainly didn't look like that."

I decide to abandon the original plan. I give her the stinkeye for a moment longer, and then spring from the couch like a raging Chihuahua and try to bite her head. She runs from the room screaming.

I feel instantly better.

Phase 1 and 2 were failures.
However original objective was attained.

Defensive Mission against Type A) was a success.


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* a Belieber is a name given to (or self-imposed by) a fan/ supporter of Justin Beiber and/or his music. I believe the term derives from "Beiber" and "Believer" mixed together.


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So, what did you think??

Do you think it's worth continuing or should I just leave it be due to it's horribleness XD Honesty is appreciated.

Also if you spot any errors, (spelling, grammatical etc.) please tell me so I can fix them - thanks!