Categories > Celebrities > The Used > Tales About God (Or The Closest Thing)
Chapter 6
A cry for help is not something that is usually audible. Most times, it is nothing more than a whisper; a pathetic little whining sound which exists, but not quite. Cries such as these take their time to surface. They never come out until the pain, the pain of living, sinks into a person’s skin permanently, like a tattoo. Even at that point, cries for help don’t completely pass through a person’s lips. It I only after an endless fight with frustration, and a period of mass self destruction that even the slightest whimper is let out. Of course, no one hears this, except for a few rare cases. The person might have a bit of Irish luck stored inside their breaking bodies. Usually though, said person is pretty much a lost cause which no one ever fought for.
On the other side of the fence, there are occasions when cries for help are so obvious that a person wonders, “Why the hell doesn’t anyone hear me?” Take me for example. After Leslie’s massive fist collided with my face and my nose spurted out blood, I was screaming pretty loudly. My voice grew louder when Leslie clutched me by the shirt and lifted me off the floor. I could hear numerous shuffles of feet and gasps around me. Well, at least this group of spectators empathized enough to hold their laughter. Hearing a low growl from my attacker brought me back to selfishness. How the fuck was I supposed to get out of this mess? Dartily, I looked around for Quinn. Did he leave? Probably. Why would he want to stick around and be a witness to this murder? But alas! He must have found a reason because my eyes fell upon his blonde head.
His expression was totally horrified and his body appeared to be paralyzed. Maybe he had gone deaf and lost all ability to listen to me screaming all my blood out. Just in case, I screeched one last time at a pitch so high that it could have potentially broken glass. Quinn seemed to suddenly snap out of whatever trance he was in and notice me, a few feet away, and getting ready to have my insides ripped out. And yet...he didn’t move! My attention reverted back to Leslie. I shut my eyes and prayed to God, in spite of the hatred He always showed towards me. It had to work eventually. My determination paid off.
“Hey! Put him down!”
I opened one eye, and then the other. Heroic, shining light shimmered on Quinn’s face. Leslie looked more confused than anything when he set me down, with surprising gentleness. He was probably wondering why Quinn had stopped him. Usually, people loved to watch him beat me up. Quinn seemed to be shocked as well, that his simple command had been obeyed. I wasn’t too astonished though. Nobody, not even the devil himself could disobey such an adorable face. I gave him a grateful smile, not caring if it looked ugly. I mean the guy saved my life. However, my grin almost fell off my face when I tasted blood. A hand rose from my side to clutch my nose. Shit, it hurt. Quinn apparently noticed this and walked closer.
“Damn,” he breathed in while speaking, “You should probably get to the nurse. C’mon, I’ll go with you.”
Leslie somehow misinterpreted this offer of extreme kindness for something else. I was beginning to realize why he hadn’t graduated when he was supposed to. A snort came from his direction, “Who is this Bertie, your boyfriend?”
There were a few laughs from the dispersing crowd around us, but my eyes widened to such a large size that my hearing was blocked out. All the blood spewing out of my nose may have been sucked in and transported to my cheeks. I looked up and down, to the right...anywhere but at Quinn. However, out of the corner of my eye, I couldn’t help but curiously steal a glance at his face; it was bright red. After a moment of awkward silence between the three of us, Leslie cleared his throat.
“Uh...” he looked very confused again, but he took a giant step towards me. It took a few seconds for his bully instincts to get back on track, “You fucking faggot!” he sneered and shoved me.
I landed on my back with a small groan. I didn’t have the energy to kick him in the nuts, although the opportunity was knocking at my door. Or maybe it made me feel a little strange that I was even thinking about his nuts in the first place. Either way, I simply lolled my head over to look at Quinn. His body language yelled out that he was angry. I watched as he made a brave attempt to push Leslie and avenge me. When it didn’t work out as planned, he succumbed to using his voice.
“Why the fuck would you call him that? That’s just rude.” It hurt to snort but I had to, seeing the puzzlement etched on Leslie’s face. He just was not getting it today! He scratched his head as Quinn continued, “You don’t just go around beating the crap out of anyone who’s gay. That’s just stupid. Do you even know if he is gay in the first place? What would you feel like if people started making fun of you ‘cause you’re fat? Because to be honest, I think you’re really fat. I think you need to lose at least half your body weight. Does that make you feel good, dude? No. Just think about that before you go around calling people dumb names like faggot. Get lost!”
I sat up and stared at Leslie. His expression was unreadable, but it was the farthest thing from mean that I’d ever seen. I almost felt guilt rushing through my veins... almost. When he turned at his heel and simply stalked off, the only think I felt was relieved. Quinn, my savior, my hero, my knight in shining armor, held out a hand. I used it to get up onto my feet, receiving that pleasant tingling sensation once more on my fingertips. I basically melted when he smiled at me. It might have been a potential romantic moment, save the fact that my nose was still bleeding. To completely destroy the set cliché mood, I wiped some of the blood off with my sleeve.
Quinn laughed, “Come on, you have to go to the nurse.”
Two fingers squeezed both sides of my nose, so what came from my mouth as a reply was a nasally sound, which made me want to beat myself up with a baseball bat. When Quinn gave me a bewildered look, I attempted a game of charades. Apparently, flailing your hands all over the place crazily is not a very successful way of making someone guessing something. Sighing with overdramatic annoyance when he couldn’t understand, I let my nose go. It made me whimper a little, because boy, the blood was bothering me. But just for Quinn, I left it that way in order to get my message across.
“I said you can go back to class, I’ll be fine,” I clarified.
He snorted, “Haha, why the hell would I want to go to math class?”
Tilting my head over to one side, I shrugged. He had a point there. I began to walk in the direction of the nurse’s office, weaving through some lingering twelfth graders. I took my time, and strode at a relatively slow pace, but Quinn still could not match my speed. I was thankful for that fact because every so often, I could turn around and look at him without seeming too strange. Whenever my eyes were forced to break loose from him, I’d stare down towards the floor; I remembered from health class that I was supposed to keep my head cocked forward if I had a nosebleed. We arrived at the nurse’s office in a matter of minutes. After the kind lady fussed about how I had gotten myself into this mess, and after she stuck something up my nose to stop it from bleeding, I was given another late pass to get back to class. Quinn, for whatever reason, had loitered around nearby and smiled when I stepped out of the room with newly clear nasal passages. Unanimously, we began our walk back to math class.
Considering the brief distance of the trip, it felt like a really long while. The almost unnatural silence might have added to this atmosphere. I was growing sick of how quiet it was, although I should have been used to it. It was not like anybody ever had a casual conversation with me on any other day. However, today seemed to be a day for changes to take place. My footsteps reduced to an even more leisurely beat against the ground. Quinn was able to catch up. Intending to simply make eye contact and start a normal conversation, I looked up at him. Unfortunately, I had forgotten the power of his eyes. They were magnets; small, golden brown magnets. It was not my fault that I was born with these accursed blue eyes. It was not my fault that a particular weird scientist dude had made the discovery that “opposites attract.” It was not my fault that my rather large head moved forward along with my blue eyes towards Quinn’s opposing brown ones. But I think it was my fault that if I had just a millisecond more, I would have kissed him right there, in the middle of the hallway.
Luckily for both of us, he jumped backwards about a mile when he realized what I was thinking. I immediately turned bright red and spun around. I walked as fast as my legs would carry me. I felt like the most idiotic idiot on the planet. Had I completely lost all sense of ethics, just moving in on him like that? Words could not possible describe how creeped out he must have been. Even if there was a miniscule chance of him being gay, what I had done was just unthinkable. I’d known him for barely what you could call a day! That was something I’d have to confess as freaky, even by my standards. I moaned to myself, feeling completely humiliated. I shoved my hands into my pockets so deep that I could feel the tiny pieces of lint at the bottom. I wanted to just die. As if to make my prayer for death stronger, the beautiful human being I had basically just mouth raped appeared at my side. I made a valiant effort to walk faster; the door was a mere few yards away. Something impeded my feet until I finally had to stop moving all together.
I stuttered out one word, “S-sorry.”
He laughed a little, “That’s okay, Bert. You don’t have to worry. I’m not ever gonna freak out on you for something like that.”
My eyes glanced upwards reluctantly to see a smile on his face. It was definitely a confidence booster. Biting my lip shyly, I brought my entire body up from its slumped position.
Quinn said nothing for a few seconds longer, “Um...you know the thing about my parents? Could you not tell anyone about that? I mean, I don’t want people to...you know...get all sympathetic on me. I hate it when they do that. “
“Um...sure,” I said slowly. I couldn’t comprehend what he was saying. No one would feel sorry for him. Would they? I supposed it made sense. He wasn’t gay, his parents were. And considering how hot he was, it was likely that nobody made fun of him because of it. Instead, maybe people felt bad for him because his parents were “faggots.” That might be the sole thing worse than what I went through. Figuring all this out, I added more convincingly, “I promise.”
“Thanks, man. You’re the best.”
He smiled at me. Had I ever mentioned previously how heavenly his smile looked? I didn’t think so. It just covered his entire face with happiness and made some loose skin around his eyes crinkle upwards. Cute, cute, cute. Was it even possible for anyone to be that cute? I think not. I could have sworn he was an angel, sent down from heaven to protect me. My entire body had a strange chill running through it. I did a weird spastic shudder thing, turning it into a mini random dance. I guessed dancing was something I subconsciously wanted to take up. I stopped awkwardly and stood with my arms at my sides. A sloppy grin was smothering my face, and I couldn’t wipe it off. Quinn laughed and swung his arm around my shoulder. If time stopped right there and the world exploded, I’d die a happy boy.
“You, Bert McCracken,” he said, “Are, like, my new best friend.”
Best friend? Was this what happiness felt like?
Hey, sorry for the lack of update. I got a Les Paul and like you can imagine, I've been too excited to do much else besides play it. My happiness came out in this chapter. Read. Review. Rate. Do whatevah.
A cry for help is not something that is usually audible. Most times, it is nothing more than a whisper; a pathetic little whining sound which exists, but not quite. Cries such as these take their time to surface. They never come out until the pain, the pain of living, sinks into a person’s skin permanently, like a tattoo. Even at that point, cries for help don’t completely pass through a person’s lips. It I only after an endless fight with frustration, and a period of mass self destruction that even the slightest whimper is let out. Of course, no one hears this, except for a few rare cases. The person might have a bit of Irish luck stored inside their breaking bodies. Usually though, said person is pretty much a lost cause which no one ever fought for.
On the other side of the fence, there are occasions when cries for help are so obvious that a person wonders, “Why the hell doesn’t anyone hear me?” Take me for example. After Leslie’s massive fist collided with my face and my nose spurted out blood, I was screaming pretty loudly. My voice grew louder when Leslie clutched me by the shirt and lifted me off the floor. I could hear numerous shuffles of feet and gasps around me. Well, at least this group of spectators empathized enough to hold their laughter. Hearing a low growl from my attacker brought me back to selfishness. How the fuck was I supposed to get out of this mess? Dartily, I looked around for Quinn. Did he leave? Probably. Why would he want to stick around and be a witness to this murder? But alas! He must have found a reason because my eyes fell upon his blonde head.
His expression was totally horrified and his body appeared to be paralyzed. Maybe he had gone deaf and lost all ability to listen to me screaming all my blood out. Just in case, I screeched one last time at a pitch so high that it could have potentially broken glass. Quinn seemed to suddenly snap out of whatever trance he was in and notice me, a few feet away, and getting ready to have my insides ripped out. And yet...he didn’t move! My attention reverted back to Leslie. I shut my eyes and prayed to God, in spite of the hatred He always showed towards me. It had to work eventually. My determination paid off.
“Hey! Put him down!”
I opened one eye, and then the other. Heroic, shining light shimmered on Quinn’s face. Leslie looked more confused than anything when he set me down, with surprising gentleness. He was probably wondering why Quinn had stopped him. Usually, people loved to watch him beat me up. Quinn seemed to be shocked as well, that his simple command had been obeyed. I wasn’t too astonished though. Nobody, not even the devil himself could disobey such an adorable face. I gave him a grateful smile, not caring if it looked ugly. I mean the guy saved my life. However, my grin almost fell off my face when I tasted blood. A hand rose from my side to clutch my nose. Shit, it hurt. Quinn apparently noticed this and walked closer.
“Damn,” he breathed in while speaking, “You should probably get to the nurse. C’mon, I’ll go with you.”
Leslie somehow misinterpreted this offer of extreme kindness for something else. I was beginning to realize why he hadn’t graduated when he was supposed to. A snort came from his direction, “Who is this Bertie, your boyfriend?”
There were a few laughs from the dispersing crowd around us, but my eyes widened to such a large size that my hearing was blocked out. All the blood spewing out of my nose may have been sucked in and transported to my cheeks. I looked up and down, to the right...anywhere but at Quinn. However, out of the corner of my eye, I couldn’t help but curiously steal a glance at his face; it was bright red. After a moment of awkward silence between the three of us, Leslie cleared his throat.
“Uh...” he looked very confused again, but he took a giant step towards me. It took a few seconds for his bully instincts to get back on track, “You fucking faggot!” he sneered and shoved me.
I landed on my back with a small groan. I didn’t have the energy to kick him in the nuts, although the opportunity was knocking at my door. Or maybe it made me feel a little strange that I was even thinking about his nuts in the first place. Either way, I simply lolled my head over to look at Quinn. His body language yelled out that he was angry. I watched as he made a brave attempt to push Leslie and avenge me. When it didn’t work out as planned, he succumbed to using his voice.
“Why the fuck would you call him that? That’s just rude.” It hurt to snort but I had to, seeing the puzzlement etched on Leslie’s face. He just was not getting it today! He scratched his head as Quinn continued, “You don’t just go around beating the crap out of anyone who’s gay. That’s just stupid. Do you even know if he is gay in the first place? What would you feel like if people started making fun of you ‘cause you’re fat? Because to be honest, I think you’re really fat. I think you need to lose at least half your body weight. Does that make you feel good, dude? No. Just think about that before you go around calling people dumb names like faggot. Get lost!”
I sat up and stared at Leslie. His expression was unreadable, but it was the farthest thing from mean that I’d ever seen. I almost felt guilt rushing through my veins... almost. When he turned at his heel and simply stalked off, the only think I felt was relieved. Quinn, my savior, my hero, my knight in shining armor, held out a hand. I used it to get up onto my feet, receiving that pleasant tingling sensation once more on my fingertips. I basically melted when he smiled at me. It might have been a potential romantic moment, save the fact that my nose was still bleeding. To completely destroy the set cliché mood, I wiped some of the blood off with my sleeve.
Quinn laughed, “Come on, you have to go to the nurse.”
Two fingers squeezed both sides of my nose, so what came from my mouth as a reply was a nasally sound, which made me want to beat myself up with a baseball bat. When Quinn gave me a bewildered look, I attempted a game of charades. Apparently, flailing your hands all over the place crazily is not a very successful way of making someone guessing something. Sighing with overdramatic annoyance when he couldn’t understand, I let my nose go. It made me whimper a little, because boy, the blood was bothering me. But just for Quinn, I left it that way in order to get my message across.
“I said you can go back to class, I’ll be fine,” I clarified.
He snorted, “Haha, why the hell would I want to go to math class?”
Tilting my head over to one side, I shrugged. He had a point there. I began to walk in the direction of the nurse’s office, weaving through some lingering twelfth graders. I took my time, and strode at a relatively slow pace, but Quinn still could not match my speed. I was thankful for that fact because every so often, I could turn around and look at him without seeming too strange. Whenever my eyes were forced to break loose from him, I’d stare down towards the floor; I remembered from health class that I was supposed to keep my head cocked forward if I had a nosebleed. We arrived at the nurse’s office in a matter of minutes. After the kind lady fussed about how I had gotten myself into this mess, and after she stuck something up my nose to stop it from bleeding, I was given another late pass to get back to class. Quinn, for whatever reason, had loitered around nearby and smiled when I stepped out of the room with newly clear nasal passages. Unanimously, we began our walk back to math class.
Considering the brief distance of the trip, it felt like a really long while. The almost unnatural silence might have added to this atmosphere. I was growing sick of how quiet it was, although I should have been used to it. It was not like anybody ever had a casual conversation with me on any other day. However, today seemed to be a day for changes to take place. My footsteps reduced to an even more leisurely beat against the ground. Quinn was able to catch up. Intending to simply make eye contact and start a normal conversation, I looked up at him. Unfortunately, I had forgotten the power of his eyes. They were magnets; small, golden brown magnets. It was not my fault that I was born with these accursed blue eyes. It was not my fault that a particular weird scientist dude had made the discovery that “opposites attract.” It was not my fault that my rather large head moved forward along with my blue eyes towards Quinn’s opposing brown ones. But I think it was my fault that if I had just a millisecond more, I would have kissed him right there, in the middle of the hallway.
Luckily for both of us, he jumped backwards about a mile when he realized what I was thinking. I immediately turned bright red and spun around. I walked as fast as my legs would carry me. I felt like the most idiotic idiot on the planet. Had I completely lost all sense of ethics, just moving in on him like that? Words could not possible describe how creeped out he must have been. Even if there was a miniscule chance of him being gay, what I had done was just unthinkable. I’d known him for barely what you could call a day! That was something I’d have to confess as freaky, even by my standards. I moaned to myself, feeling completely humiliated. I shoved my hands into my pockets so deep that I could feel the tiny pieces of lint at the bottom. I wanted to just die. As if to make my prayer for death stronger, the beautiful human being I had basically just mouth raped appeared at my side. I made a valiant effort to walk faster; the door was a mere few yards away. Something impeded my feet until I finally had to stop moving all together.
I stuttered out one word, “S-sorry.”
He laughed a little, “That’s okay, Bert. You don’t have to worry. I’m not ever gonna freak out on you for something like that.”
My eyes glanced upwards reluctantly to see a smile on his face. It was definitely a confidence booster. Biting my lip shyly, I brought my entire body up from its slumped position.
Quinn said nothing for a few seconds longer, “Um...you know the thing about my parents? Could you not tell anyone about that? I mean, I don’t want people to...you know...get all sympathetic on me. I hate it when they do that. “
“Um...sure,” I said slowly. I couldn’t comprehend what he was saying. No one would feel sorry for him. Would they? I supposed it made sense. He wasn’t gay, his parents were. And considering how hot he was, it was likely that nobody made fun of him because of it. Instead, maybe people felt bad for him because his parents were “faggots.” That might be the sole thing worse than what I went through. Figuring all this out, I added more convincingly, “I promise.”
“Thanks, man. You’re the best.”
He smiled at me. Had I ever mentioned previously how heavenly his smile looked? I didn’t think so. It just covered his entire face with happiness and made some loose skin around his eyes crinkle upwards. Cute, cute, cute. Was it even possible for anyone to be that cute? I think not. I could have sworn he was an angel, sent down from heaven to protect me. My entire body had a strange chill running through it. I did a weird spastic shudder thing, turning it into a mini random dance. I guessed dancing was something I subconsciously wanted to take up. I stopped awkwardly and stood with my arms at my sides. A sloppy grin was smothering my face, and I couldn’t wipe it off. Quinn laughed and swung his arm around my shoulder. If time stopped right there and the world exploded, I’d die a happy boy.
“You, Bert McCracken,” he said, “Are, like, my new best friend.”
Best friend? Was this what happiness felt like?
Hey, sorry for the lack of update. I got a Les Paul and like you can imagine, I've been too excited to do much else besides play it. My happiness came out in this chapter. Read. Review. Rate. Do whatevah.
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