"Hey, faggot," I hear as I fall to the floor. My textbook and notes go flying, but the foot that tripped me is now firmly placed between my shoulder blades, and let's face it, no one's exactly gonna help me, are they? I sigh irritably and push myself up, twisting so I unbalance him. He shifts, removing his foot from my back and bringing it down on my fingers instead. By accident, of course.
"Just fuck off, will you, Jason? I'm not even gay, get it right." Prick.
And I would like to say right now, just to set the record straight, I'm not gay. I'm very much into both genders - and anyone in between, for that matter.
Surprise, surprise. There's Kyle. Laughing. Double prick. "What're you laughing at?" I ask snappishly, picking up my stuff and walking off before he can answer.
Of course, that's when I realise I've not even got the right textbook. But I'm not going back there for anything. Not because of those assholes, but more because I've got music next. I like music. I get to lock myself in the studio and beat out my frustration on a drum kit. I can play the guitar, too, but honestly, I prefer the drums. In fact, I did belong to a band once, with my best friend. But the singer? He was worse than Kyle. I don't think Kyle's actually homophobic; he just has a reputation and an image to keep up. The singer, though? He was genuinely homophobic, and a complete dickhead.
Even if he was gorgeous.
Needless to say, we didn't get too far like that. So I'm back in the studios, bumming around and dreaming of what I could've had.
"I want you all to pair up and work on the exercise on your sheets." Thanks, Mr F. Thanks a bunch. I just sit there at the back and don't bother to move. I don't want to fucking pair up with anyone.
"Hey, looks like I'm with you, man," an Australian accent says. I look up and see an unfamiliar face looking back down at me. I look around and see that everyone else is paired up already and Mr F is hovering, watching nervously as I take in the tall blonde before me. I shift in my seat a little and tap my pen on the desk, unimpressed. I thought this class was s'posed to have an uneven number of students.
"Do me a favour and piss off, will you?"
"Hey! We have to work in pairs, you have no choice! Who the hell do you think you are?" And just who the hell do you think you are, sunshine? No choice my ass.
"I think I'm Damien," I reply with a small smirk, "go work by yourself."
"What part of 'in pairs' didn't you get Damien?"
"The ‘working' part, and the ‘in pairs' part."
"God is every fucker in this town a complete and utter twat?" If I'm a twat, why are you sitting down next to me anyways? "I'm Danny. Moved here a few days ago. I'm working with you today."
"Good for you, Danny. But I already knew that. Focus has shifted from me to you - how could I not know who you are? From one faggot to another: run for the fucking hills."
"Oh, Kyle? I got him covered. He touches me and I'll destroy him. I get the pleasure of living next to - wait. What?"
"You're... gay too?" I laugh and shake my head. No, honey, that's just what they call me. He sighs.
"I'm bi. They just call me faggot ‘cause they don't seem to have a derogatory term for bi, yet."
"Ahh, well. At least I'm not the only one in this homophobic town. Good to meet you. But unfortunately I can't 'run to the hills' I got forced to come here I have to stay." I don't say anything to that. I'm not interested in your sob story, darling, I'm more concerned Mr F looks like he's about to come over and yell at me. "Thanks for the warning," he mumbles and I shrug.
"We're gonna get yelled at. I'm gonna go to the studio," I say, getting up. If you think I'm waiting for the lanky Aussie, you're wrong.
"Uhh, where?" he asks, stumbling after me in his hurry to keep up. I don't say anything, punching in the code to the lock and letting myself in. He follows me in, but I barely notice, heading straight for the drum kit. "Oh!" I just about hear him over the noise I'm making. He hurries off somewhere and returns with no less than a violin. Alright, gay boy, you have fun trying to hear yourself over me.
I ignore him and concentrate on my practice/rage, barely noticing him at all. Until my drum stick snaps. "FUCK!" I shout. I was in the middle of a fucking awesome fill and you go and fucking snap. Fuck. Danny jumps, but he doesn't say anything. I throw the broken stick across the room, gritting my teeth.
"Third one this month, for fucks sake!" I yell. I don't have the money to keep replacing them like this.
"I could get you a new pair?" he murmurs and I glance up at him, dropping the remaining stick on the snare drum with a clatter. I push my hair back out of my eyes and sigh.
"Don't worry about it."
He nods, "well... I need some new strings for my bow if ya wanna drop by the music store after school?" He offers with a casual shrug.
"I don't have any money, dude." That and I'd rather not be given another reason to get picked on all the time.
"It's okay, I'll pay."
"Are you genuinely that desperate for a friend? Seriously, if you don't wanna be here, get your own apartment - you're old enough."
"I have money to buy drumsticks. Not an apartment and I wish I could go back to Aussie. My old lover's there, my dad would kill me. It's just drumsticks seriously. I was being friendly."Oh god. I hate people who get chattery when they're nervous.
"Okay, doll, just because you didn't seem to get the hint already; I already get victimized enough, just for existing, I don't want to give them any excuse to do anything worse - to either of us. It's nothing against you, okay? I just value my life." Maybe a bit over the top, but he might get the hint, this time.
"You're scared of them?"
"No, I'm scared of cause and effect." There's a reason I wear long sleeved shirts and hoodies in the summer. He shoves some money in my hand and I look down at it. What the fuck?
"Fine, here. Fucking idiots. Now I can't even make friends because of them," he says, putting away his violin.
"Hey, I never said we couldn't ever hang out y'know." Just not at school or in public. Oh, Damien, you're such a sweetheart to the new kid.
"Mmm, sure," he mumbles, cursing under his breath. I sigh inwardly. Fine, Danny, you win.
"Wanna skip next lesson with me?"