#add to that they're all just a bunch of middle schoolers

[hopeswriting]

prince of tennis is so funny. it starts with fairly realistic tennis as far as i can tell (by which i mean i know exactly nothing about tennis just to be perfectly transparent here lol), exaggerated to make it look badass of course, but the techniques are all explained and all around everything looks believable enough.

and then by the end of the manga there's suddenly devil mode where a guy feels so much bloodlust his eyes and whole body turns red because?? and it exponentially improves his skills somehow, and another guy can deprive his opponent from their senses with his playing style because he's the child of god so obviously it's a given he can do that, and also very visible tangible auras that let them see in the future, and at least by that point we still have somewhat explanations of how the fuck they're doing all that.

but then new prince of tennis takes it to another level entirely, and very tellingly we're not explained shit anymore. these guys can destroy walls with the strenght of their swings, or send their opponent flying, literally flying all the way out of the tennis grounds and more, and they play with one ball but can make it look like ten somehow, and there's black aura involved now too, and demons, and power from other dimensions, and like.

it's never ever acknowledged. none of it is ever fucking explained. their skills are clearly in the magical/supernatural realm now, but you're just supposed to nod along and go "yep, this is tennis, believable tennis i could definitely learn to do too with time and efforts, totally. just your everyday tennis i could witness if i were to turn the tv on a tennis match, absolutely, i believe all of you guys, keep up the good work". and it's so funny when you stop to think about it??

tho don't get me wrong it works, it's good and i love it, it's fun to read, but also. it just sends me how no one ever blinks at it in universe, even the ones that aren't tennis players akdksld.

[girderednerve]

okay sorry to just talk about my job again but i am deeply boring actually and i had a nice moment at work today i want to remember

anyway we run a drop-in program for after school middle schoolers to hang out at the library while being minimally disruptive. some of them are very energetic and do not have good impulse control, which can make this situation, uh, strained at times. anyway one of the kids who is like always getting into trouble because he is just bouncing off the walls at all times came in today and whipped out a foot-long sword he'd made by meticulously folding and taping printer paper.

all the staff in the room lost our minds immediately, of course. we were like "oh my god did you make that? how did you make that? do you want to show us? would you like some construction paper to add to it? that looks so cool! oh are you going to show us your moves?" (he did a dramatic death flop situation and then some very impressive sword flourishing.)

he has expressed interest in books exactly zero (0) times but i went to grab our big book about how to draw cool swords that we've saved from being weeded twice in the last two years, and he plonked down with it and started flipping through it looking at hilt designs. later when he got too energetic with his sword flourishing (nearly knocked over a table) and we were like "hey, cool it," he was chill about it in a way he never is.

like objectively this isn't a big deal or anything, but it was really nice actually? he was really excited about his sword and he clearly liked that a bunch of adults were impressed by it. one of the things that we can do at the library is give teens space to just like whatever weird shit they're into, and it was pretty fun. i want the kids to know that we like, respect them as people. and also i want them to show me their sick paper swords, shoutout to that kid the sword was very cool

i was too tired and distracted today to get to linux-ing the busted library laptop, and now i'm kind of like, maybe i should just do it in the room with the teens and see if anybody has questions about computers i can address with them. i keep seeing articles about how kids don't know what file systems are and it makes me sad

[argylemikewheeler]

imagine steve's coming out to the kids, like obviously nancy and jonathon already know, they're his best friends, and this kids are obviously all accepting of steve and they just all wanna know when he's gonna get a boyfriend it's so PURE

[[writing this was the best thing i’ve ever done. thank you xo i loved it sm]]

Steve’s freaking out. He’s really freaking out. Being honest, Steve Harrington has done some stupid fucking shit and has probably warranted a prescription for an anti-anxiety or something by this point. But this– this fucking decision– was the dumbest thing he’s ever done. Or at least, will be after he does it.

“Steve, why do you look like you’re going to throw up?” Jonathan asks, poking his banana split with his spoon.

“Because, Johnny, I am.” Steve mutters, craning his neck to see if the kids are coming yet.

“They’re fourteen year olds.” Nancy tries to hide her laugh in a cough.

“Please don’t throw up.” Jonathan adds. “Not on my ice cream.”

“Gee, thanks. Love you too.” Steve snaps with a tisk of his tongue.

“Steve, you’re coming out to a bunch of middle schoolers. This isn’t a trial.” Nancy says, trying to diffuse their glaring. “You do know like, two of them are probably gay. Like, statistically.”

“Yeah, well they got one big ol’ gay right fucking here, scooping them ice cream. Statistically.” Steve begins to chew his bottom lip. “Oh my god, they probably already figured it out. They stood me up.”

Jonathan doesn’t acknowledge Steve’s idiotic logic. “Why again are you having them meet you at an ice cream parlor? You work here.”

“Cheap ice cream. I can bribe them.” Steve answers without thought. “And it’s in public, so they won’t make a scene if things go sour.”

“Steve,” Nancy says, taking his hand. Jonathan takes the other and it’s annoyingly calming. “they aren’t your parents. They’re good kids. They’re going to be okay with it.”

“I really hope so– Oh fuck here they are.” Steve pulls his hands away and tries to dry his palms on his jeans.

Max walks in with her arms around Lucas and Dustin. Her smile is an echo of a memory Steve hasn’t had in a while. Lucas laughs and Dustin is cackling from the joke Steve was just out of reach of. Behind her, El skips into the parlor with Will, who is walking. Definitely walking. He looks sure to put both feet down evenly, alerting everyone he is walking. Steve knows that look– no, he wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Steve looks away and spots Mike coming in last. He spots his sister and waves at her, locating Steve in the next moment.

“I’m gonna hurl. Oh my god.”

“Why are you doing this again?” Jonathan asks, reaching for his hand again. He’d started holding Steve’s hand after Steve had come out. Steve had confessed his own disgust with himself, with how much he was afraid to touch Jonathan in passing or even play a sport because he didn’t want to make anyone feel invaded or uncomfortable. Jonathan told him he was never bothered and began grabbing hand when he wants Steve to know he’s listening. Steve doesn’t hate it.

“I don’t want them to be scared like me. The news is getting… worse and I want them to have someone happy– and healthy– to look up to if they are… how they are.” Steve says, squeezing Jonathan’s hand.

“You’re a really good friend to them, Steve.” Nancy smiles as she slides out of the booth. She kisses him on the cheek and fixes his hair; he hadn’t washed it in two days. Hadn’t slept properly longer.

“Good luck. Come get us when it’s all over.” Jonathan pats Steve on the shoulder as they walk away and leave the booth open for the kids.

“Hey Steve!” Dustin slides in beside him, scooting him against the wall. “What’s new?”

“Nothing really.” Still the same Steve, unfortunately. Now just self-aware. “How’s your summer?”

“Hot.” El says– she wasn’t going by Jane anymore, he thinks– thudding her elbows on the table as she sits. Mike slides in next to her and Will beside him. Max pulls up a chair to the end of the table as Lucas finishes off the bench with Steve and Dustin. “I want ice cream.”

“I’ll get you some. What flavor?” Max says, the easiest to stand.

“No. No I’ll get everyone ice cream.” Steve says, waving her back down to her seat. “I’ll use my employee discount and everything. I just want to.. I want to talk to you guys for a second. If that’s okay.” He feels his heart try to stop. Not skip a beat, not sink to his stomach or jump to his throat. No, it tries to come to a halt and kill him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Are you going far away for college!” Max cries, gripping at the table edge. “I thought you said that you were going locally! We need you here!”

“I am, I still am.” Steve soothes. “It has nothing to do with college.”

“Then what? What else do you do with your time other than scoop ice cream and bitch about going to college?” Dustin says.

“Hey, language.” Steve says firmly. “And I do plenty of other things.”

“Yeah, you sit in my living room and bitch to Nancy.” Mike laughs.

“Hey! Language!”

“So far we haven’t told a lie.” Lucas reaches behind Dustin to playfully shove Steve. “But, for real, what’s wrong? You typically don’t call us in like this.”

“I feel like I’m at a business meeting.” Will notes, folding his hands on the tabletop. Mike laughs and does the same, as does El. “Mr. Harrington, please, state your business.”

This is the moment, Steve knows it. It’s exactly what he wanted, but why does it feel so difficult? It feels like pressure squeezing around him– rather than on his hand. He wishes for a moment that Jonathan was there, but he has to do it alone anyway. It’ll be alone for the rest of his life anyway.

“I wanted to tell you guys that when I go to college, I might… I uh, I might start dating. Well, like, more seriously than I did in high school.” Steve isn’t sure what their parents have said about gay people and he wants to humanize and deescalate the lies built around his life. He doesn’t want to scare them.

“Well I hope so.” Mike says. “You can’t keep hanging around with us forever. I mean, we’re cool shit and everything–”

“Dammit, Mike! Language!” Steve sighs, poking his hands harshly. “Don’t make me tell Nancy.”

“She’s got a filthier mouth than me!” Mike cries. “She taught me how to correctly use the F word the other day!”

“Ooo! You’ll have to share.” Dustin says with excitement.

“Which F word. I know at least… thirty.” El asks quietly, nudging Mike with her elbow.

Steve can think of a completely different F word for the situation. And he hates that he thinks of it, but he imagines one of the kids spitting the word at him as they storm away from the table. But Nancy was right, these kids aren’t his parents. They wouldn’t use that word. They were raised different. They were raised in the middle of this chaos and death– they were empathetic and loving. He raised them; they’d have to still love him. Right?

“Guys, Steve’s trying to talk.” Lucas says, cutting through the suddenly yammering.

“I-It’s not important.”

“It is if you’re gonna buy us ice cream after.” Max counters. “That never happens. Unless it’s important. Or like, a divorce.” She laughs but Steve also knows she isn’t kidding.

“Uh, I just wanted to tell you that… that when I start dating in college. The people I date might not be who you expect.” Steve is such an idiot. Such a coward. He’s afraid of fourteen year olds. Genuinely afraid.

“What do you think we expect?” Will asks, furrowing his eyebrows. “All of them to look like Nancy?”

Well, no. But they’d be Nancies.

“Well, I’m sure you expect women.” Steve spits. “A-And… They won’t be.”

The table is still. They all stare at the table and Lucas turns his head to stare at Steve, the first one to move.

“Are you telling us you’re gay? That’s it?” He says with horrifying nonchalance. His courage frightens Steve.

“I am. Yes.”

“Oh. That’s the ice cream event?” Mike asks, unfolding his hands. “That’s not really that important.”

“It is to Steve.” Will reasons, reaching a hand out toward Steve on the table. Oh, Steve thinks, that’s why he came out. Will knows. He lets Will touch his hand, just like his older brother would. This time though, Steve is comforting someone else’s fear of contact rather than the reverse.

“Wait, does this mean you’re gonna have college boyfriends!” El asks with wide eyes. “Oh! They’ll look like those boys in the movies, Mike. Leather jackets and everything?”

“I mean, sure. Yeah. I could have a boyfriend with a leather jacket. Or maybe a denim one. Or like, no coat at all if he’s tough or something. I’m open to all fashion choices.”

“Except like, those weird colorful shorts or something.” Dustin says.

“I happen to think Jams are cute, thank you very much.” Steve says shooting him a look and pressing his lips together in a joking purse.

“Cute?” Mike repeats. “Oooooo! Steve thinks boys are cute!”

“I’m gay, that’s what that means.” He shoots back, the words coming naturally. He never thought he’d see the day. Maybe all it took were some rambunctious kids.

“But I mean… cute? That’s so sixth grade.” Max scrunches her nose and laughs.

“Unless he’s thinking of someone in particular.” Lucas points and Steve feels the thrumming excitement with none of the fear. “Who is it! Who is he!”

“No one! I’m not seeing anyone! You think I’d get a boyfriend before I told my number ones? I don’t think so.”

“When are you going to get a boyfriend, then? We want to terrorize him!” Mike groans, slapping the table jokingly. “Get a boyfriend already, Steve. God!”

“Not everyone gets a girlfriend from another dimension, Mike.” Will quips, his hand still touching Steve’s. “Steve is limited to human earthlings only.”

“Are the boys on Earth cute?” El asks. Steve isn’t sure if she’s playing along or not.

“Don’t you have eyes?” Steve asks, blinking slowly. “I mean, why are you asking me?”

“None of us are gay.” Steve doesn’t catch who says it but he feels a shift in his hand. “We don’t see what you see!”

“I see the same thing as you.”

“But they’re older than us! We don’t know what’s cute when you turn nineteen!” Max reasons. “The only nineteen year old I know is… Not cute.”

“That’s cause he’s your brother.”

“I think monster is his preferred species of origin.” Will cuts in, raising an eyebrow.

“Either way. He’s not cute, right, Steve?” Max holds a hand out to Steve, ready to receive the verbal validation.

“Yeah. Not.” Steve laughs. “Mullets? Not really my speed. I mean, neither is getting my nose broken– and that shouldn’t be for you either.”

“Okay, so Steve thinks that non-mullets, jackets, and non-violent boys are cute. Okay. That’s easy. We can get you a boyfriend!” Dustin starts counting the traits on his hands. “Please reconsider the Jams though, Steve.”

“You guys haven’t even had a serious girlfriend– o-or boyfriend.” He counters, resting his arm on the back of the booth seat. He accidentally nudges the man behind them, his hand jerking away to rest in his lap. He doesn’t look back as the man looks at Steve.

“Excuse me?” Mike says with mock offense. “Uh, I’m fine thanks.”

“You’re fourteen.”

“We’re holding hands.”

“I’m gonna gag.” Max teases, although Steve easily spots her hand resting against Lucas’ arm on the table. “I need ice cream.”

“Here, let me out and I’ll get you some– on one condition.” Steve points at all of them sternly. “You don’t embarrass me in front of any man that is between the ages of twenty and twenty-five that may or may not be wearing colorful shorts.”

“Twenty-five?” Mike repeats. “Isn’t that a bit old for you?”

“Isn’t El a little too cool for you?” Lucas says in Steve’s defense.

“She is.” Mike says sitting up straight. “But you don’t have to remind her.”

“Oh, I know, Mike.” She isn’t even joking a little bit. Steve loves Eleven. He really does.

“Alright alright, lets get you ice cream.” Steve waves the kids out of his booth and stands. His legs still feel like they want to buckle, but with a new sense of relief. He’s got six kids around him in case he falls.

Steve walks them up to the counter, waving to Robin as he slides over the counter to start serving them. Mike wants a sundae with two spoons, Dustin wants mint chocolate chip– two scoops, Steve, I’m a growing boy– in the last waffle cone, Lucas can’t decide between two flavors so Steve manages a special twisted stack of peanut butter and rocky road scoops, and Will gets sherbet– fucking rainbow sherbet– and Steve makes sure it’s the nicest three scoops he’s ever managed. Max asks Steve to surprise her as she ushers away, trying to keep Will from dripping on his shirt. She’s grabbing napkins from passing tables and holding it around the cone as Will readjusts his grip.

She’s a lovely kid, growing up in the sunshine despite being raised in such darkness. It was kind of inspiring, Steve hated to admit. She was five years younger than him and she was already showing him the promising future of keeping his head up. He needed these kids more than they ever needed him.

“I’m sorry.” A young man approaches Steve as he walks back around the counter, Max’s cone in his hand. “I don’t mean to bother you, but I overheard you talking.”

“Oh… Sorry if we were being loud.” Steve mutters handing Max her ice cream. He notices there is no one behind them. “Oh, was it you I hit earlier? I’m sorry.”

“No! No! That’s not it at all!” His eyes are green. Steve has never seen eyes so green in his life. He’s glad talking is an excuse to look into them. “I wanted to say that I agree.”

“What?”

“Jams are cute. Although, I think ruddy converse and jeans are cuter.” Steve fights the urge to look down at his own outfit; he knows he’s wearing those two things but he wants to make sure he isn’t hallucinating.

“I– thank you.” Steve is blushing in front of a bunch of teenagers and he wants to scream.

“Do you come here often? Live close or just on vacation?” The boy asks, licking his ice cream. Steve wants to scream. Why isn’t he screaming?

“I work here.”

“Oh. Good.” The boy smiles. “Guess I’ll see you again…”

“Steve. I’m Steve.”

“Theodore.” He nods and leaves Steve with a long look.

“Dude!” Dustin cries, slapping his arms and trying to bring him back to reality. “DUDE!”

“I can’t believe you all just saw that.” Steve was checked out, for the first time, in front of his babysitting gig.

“Steve’s got a boyfriend!” Max laughs, sitting back in her chair. “Didn’t take long.”

Steve nods in agreement, but there were so many months of half started conversations and awkward bail out lines that led to Steve even being able to make eye contact with Theodore. It didn’t feel like long to them because they only got to follow the positive; the journey including the negative and the regression was at least five years. But in the long run of the rest of his life, it really didn’t take long. Steve now had the rest of his life to be happy– maybe or maybe not with Theodore.

“I can’t wait for Steve to start college dating. It’s going to be so fun!”

“What if your boyfriend is like, a doctor or something? Will you date a doctor, Steve?”

“No! No! He should date a guy that can fix a car– you’re really bad at it, Steve.”

“You can’t pick his boyfriend’s skills like a Sears catalog… You should just go for someone tall! Like, taller than you. Or maybe blond too.”

“A redhead!”

“Hey, hey, hey. I’ll date who I date.” Steve laughs, sitting down in the booth again. “Lets not get ahead of ourselves.”

“Promise you’ll introduce him to us?” Will asks, twisting cone in his hand.

“Of course I will. And if you approve, it’s wedding bells for that poor sucker.”

“He better not own Jams, Steve, I swear to god.” Dustin sighs.

“So glad my sexuality doesn’t bother you but his potential fashion does.” Steve laughs. He wants to cry, if he’s being honest. This was the dumbest thing he’s ever done in his life, but it’s the most important.

“If you date someone who’s not as cool as you, I’m gonna be really upset.” Max says firmly. “You only date up.”

“Guys, stop.” Mike whispered, looking at El with over dramatic paranoia. “She’ll hear you.” El dips her finger in the whipped cream and slides it on Mike’s nose.

“How about this? I’ll only date someone who likes me, likes you guys, and… and…”

“Makes you happy.” Will pipes up, a dot of sherbet on his nose.

“Yeah!” They all agree, nodding their heads with their cones.

“That sounds easy enough.” Steve smiles. He places his arm around the back of the booth again, leaning into Dustin’s side. “Thanks for listening, guys. You’re pretty cool, I guess. All of you.”

“We love you, Steve.” Max says, the other Party members nodding.

I’m gay was yet to be followed by I love you for Steve. He grins and reaches his hand into the middle of the table. All the kids place their own on top and smile in return. He’s completely alright with finding a new family for college, even if it means he has to be the “adult” one. That doesn’t mean he can’t learn from his six brothers and sisters. They love him. That’s all he needs.

[sauveteen]

like this | s.m

note: so i had this idea, and it isn't really a one shot, just a... concept? if enough people like it/are intrigued i might turn it into a series of slow burn shawn and a soft boy in love. so please lmk if you'd like that! (:

if u like it, just reply & i'll add you to a taglist for chapters wayyy longer than this thingy

“Wha’ d’you mean Aayat likes Noémie?”

“What I just said,” Calum presses, “Aayat. Likes. Noémie. Do I need to spell it out for you? Like in those weddings, all glittery and big on a styrofoam heart? AAYAT WEDS NOÉMIE. SHAWN GETS ROYALLY FUCKED.”

“Shut up,” Shawn seethes, waving his hand around to dismiss his friend, “God, just fucking shut up, Calum.”

“Don't shoot the messenger, dude.”

“M’about to more than shoot you. M’going to…”

“Yeah, think it over,” Calum smirks, bringing his cigarette to his lips, “Your preferred mode of murder is probably tickling. Pussy.”

When Shawn smacks Calum on the head, he simply chuckles, taking a long drag and blowing the smoke back into Shawn's face, who makes a face and leans away, too wasted to do anything else. He feels faint, and not the I'm-drunk-off-my-ass kind, but the numb kind. Like that feeling you get when you know something has gone terribly wrong, and you know there's absolutely nothing you can do about it. Nada. Zilch. Probably mourn, though, like Shawn currently is. And then decide to shoot the messenger even further, also like Shawn currently is.

“S’you're telling me..,” Bringing a hand up to his head, he runs a hand through his hair, pushing the unruly curls away from his face. He bites into his bottom lip, really craving another bottle of beer as he says, “That Aayat likes Noémie.”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Calum mumbles, shaking his head, already regretting being the one who had to bring this up to him. All of his and Shawn’s friends had had a lengthy debate (sans Shawn, of course) about who would be the one to bite the bullet and just tell it to Shawn like it is. Calum, like the dumbass he is, had volunteered. Volunteered. The others weren't willing to do it even when threatened with a stick up their ass. “Yes, Shawn. The girl you're in love with likes your best friend. There, I said it.”

“Uhh..” Shawn scrunches his face, scoffing, “I'm not in love with her?”

“Sure, dude, whatever you say.”

“I am not in love with her. I'm not. I just… think she's cute. But I'm not in love with her.”

“Maybe saying it enough times will help you fool yourself, huh? Heard that's good strategy.”

“Oh my God, Cal,” Shawn’s head drops to his propped up hands as he mumbles into his palms, “Am I in love with her?”

“Would you get her name tattooed on your right ass cheek?”

Shawn lifts his head to give Calum a weird look, like this isn't something they've discussed before. Calum doesn't think Shawn remembers, though, because he was black out drunk when the gang had sat around a patio table and given their two cents about What is Love? Not like any of them had any sort of worthy experience, whatsoever, but it was fun while it lasted. Shawn's contribution had been on the wilder side, proudly claiming, ‘If I fall in love, I'll get her name tattooed on both ass cheeks.’ Calum’s glad he refrained from drinking that night.

“Would you?”

“No?” Shawn sounds unsure, eyebrows furrowed.

“Then you're not in love,” Comes Calum’s simple reply. He taps his cigarette on the lip of the ashtray, watching the gears slowly turn in his friend's head. He knows he should've broken the news at a better time — perhaps a time when Shawn hadn't downed two glasses of vodka and God knows how many bottles of beers, a time when he at least had some of his mental faculties together. Thing is, though, that Calum is shit with emotions. Had he managed to catch Shawn at just the perfect time and made him cry — which he really, really can't put past Shawn — then he would've also done the shittiest job at consoling his friend.

Now, however, Shawn is barely conscious. Some of his words slur together when he talks, cheeks and the tip of his nose rosy and warm. His actions are delayed, soft, like you're looking at him through a vaseline covered screen. The realisation of what Calum’s telling him takes a while to settle in, and even then, he doesn't really grasp the concept in all its shitty, fucked up glory.

“And Aayat wants me to help her win over Noémie?” Shawn echoes what Calum had told him earlier, blinking dazedly to keep his eyes open.

“And Aayat wants you to help her win over Noémie,” Calum nods, confirming his worst suspicions, "She says no one knows Noémie better than you."

“S’fucked up, man,” Shawn mutters, running a hand over his face. He rubs his eyes while softly shaking his head, repeating, “S’fucked up. S’all fucked up.”

“I mean… it could be worse?”

Shawn's eyes fly up to meet Calum’s at a speed he didn't know was possible, squinted in accusation, “How could it be worse? Lit-eral-lly my worst case scenario. Sure, s’also the fear that I'm way out of her league… but this?” His head tilts to the side, helpless gaze focused on nowhere in particular, “Fuck, dude."

"Maybe this is for the best the best. You could try to.. woo her in the process?"

"Woo her with what? My lanky ass body and average personality? M'only defining character trait s'that I can whistle through my ears. And then there's Noémie... fuck. Mie's just.... Mie. I stand zero chance next to her?"

“I don't think you should be comparing yourself to your best friend. Kinda unhealthy.”

“And I don't care you what you think!” Shawn screeches, wagging his finger in Calum’s face, “I really don't. You've got me fucked up real good here, bud-die. Now shut up.”

“But like…”

“Wha’ d’you not get about.. shutting up?” Shawn mutters, “It's literally so easy. You just.. don't talk.”

“Shawn,” Calum exhales heavily through his nose, dropping his cigarette butt to the ground and crushing it under his shoe, “I know this sucks, but chill the fuck out for a second and listen to me. There's no point wailing like a baby if you won't even remember this tomorrow morning.”

“Morning,” Shawn echoes, muttering to himself, “I am mourning.”

“No — morning. Like sunrise, morning. Like AM morning.”

“Yeah, AM,” Shawn muses, “Aayat Mendes.”

“Sometimes I wonder why I bother,” Calum mumbles, and then reminds himself why. He bothers because he loves his friends, and he loves Shawn, and if ever found himself in a situation like this, he'd want his friends to try and console him. The only difference would be the fact that his friends are good at consoling, unlike Calum, who wants to punch anyone who shows any sort of emotion in the throat.

Sometimes he thinks his violent tendencies stem from being around a bunch of meatheads. And then he reminds himself that he's also around Aayat and Shawn just as often, and if their soft asses can't influence him, then nothing can.

“Hey, you,” Calum leans over the table, putting a pause in Shawn's mumbling by softly poking him in the chest, “Now you listen to me.”

Shawn gives him a half hearted hum in reply, pretending to focus his gaze on his friend while his mind wanders. Makes up scenarios. He almost throws up when a picture of Aayat and Noémie holding hands is conjured up in his head. Holding hands — not even kissing, or making out, or sleeping together — just holding hands like two middle schoolers too afraid to do anything else. Or two people in love — that makes Shawn's stomach turn. So yeah, perhaps he is a goner. Perhaps he will die alone with no one no to care for him. Perhaps Calum is shouting in his face right now, and so he really should try to focus.

“....And so what if they're sleeping together, you know? Fucking doesn't equal feelings, believe me—”

The scream that leaves Shawn's lips then has Calum tumbling off his lawn chair, chin hitting the edge of the patio table in the process. His body hits the ground with a loud thud, and groaning, he makes absolutely no effort to get back up.

Shawn's head peeks under the table, eyebrows on the top of his face. Pink, swollen lips parted in surprise. His grip on the table is strong, knuckles turning white in the process as he screeches, “They're also fucking?!”

“I thought you knew that!”

“Does my reaction make you think I knew that!” Shawn all but roars, nudging Calum’s shin with his pointy shoe.

“Everybody fucking knew!”

“Fuck this shit, Calum,” Shawn shakes his head, holding his hand out to help him up, “Fuck everything. And fuck Aayat.”

“Oh, we all know you want to.”

Shawn lets Calum’s hand go and watches his head hit the ground again, a loud shout of protest following soon after, “Dude, fuck you too!”

“Life already has.”

if you're confused please read this!