Dustin was mad. Really mad. He was chewing on the tips of his black hair with sharp teeth, his fingers were fidgeting with his hoodie, and his feet were tapping away on the hardwood floor of Justin's kitchen. Justin stared at his friend from a safe distance, a feeling of dread spreading throughout his body.

"Uh..."

Dustin noticed Justin standing uncertainly in the doorway. He glared, annoyed at himself that he hadn't noticed his friend there. Justin, of course, took that look the wrong way.

"Oh, God!" Justin started. He ran over to Dustin. "I am so sorry!" Justin was kneeling in front of him, grasping the fabric of his jeans. "I'm not sure what for, but I am so sorry!"

"Um..." Dustin raised a pierced eyebrow. "...What?" This was pissing him off. "What the fuck are you apologizing for? Did you even do anything wrong? Get off the fucking ground, retard," Dustin hissed. As he did so, a few strands of his hair got caught on his lip piercing. "Shit! Motherfucker!" Dustin screeched, scratching at his face.

"Holy shit! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!" Justin got up and felt both of his knees pop, but he ignored that. He grasped both of Dustin's shoulders, and practically shouted, "I'll do anything for your forgiveness! Anything!"

"Justin..."

"I'll make cookies! I'll make the best damn cookies ever! Double chocolate chip, I promise!"

"Justin!" Dustin pressed his hand against Justin's mouth, effectively quieting him. "Calm down. Okay?" He gave Justin a searching look. Justin nodded. Dustin took his hand away.

"I'm sor-"

"You say that one more time, and I'll fucking castrate you."

Justin shut his mouth. A few moments passed in silence as the pair stood barely a half-an-inch apart from each other. "Are you mad at me?" Justin finally said. Dustin sighed, rubbing his eyes. His neck hurt a bit from staring up at the other boy.

"...No." Dustin sighed again, backing up a step to put some space between the two of them. He ended up ramming his behind into the kitchen counter.

"Then why are you mad?" Justin asked timidly. He was odd to look at, with his vacant hurt-puppy-dog expression contrasting with his huge, bulky body. Dustin was just the opposite. He was all glares and tiny wrists and skinny chicken legs.

"I'm not mad." Dustin shouted. That was lie. He was actually very mad at the pain in his lower back.

"Then why are you shouting?"

"I'm not fucking shouting!" That was the truth. He was actually yelling.

Justin just stared at him with big eyes. One of his eyebrows was raised. "Dustin..."

"What?" Dustin folded his arms and stared at the floor and Justin's feet.

"...Are you mad at me now?"

"A little bit."

"Oh." Justin blinked. "Why?" He wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed.

"Because you should already know what the hell's bothering me, and you're apologizing without a reason to, and you know how much that pisses me off when you do that." Dustin explained in one quick breath.

Justin blinked rapidly, trying to take in all of what Dustin said. "I know that I should know what's wrong, but you know that I forget things easily, so please remind me." He was blushing, a light pink tinge on his face. That interested Dustin.

Dustin sighed once more before jumping into the short version of all his problems. "One, my parents are still discussing whether or not I should go to military school for one fucking A minus. Two, that weirdo fag-boy from the Environmental Club-"

"Jethro?"

"-Somehow managed to come up with my cellphone number and has been calling me for the past forty-eight hours, and has just recently started to send me lewd text messages when he noticed that I wasn't picking up. And three, as I was taking a shower this morning before I got here, I realized-" Dustin stopped abruptly, clamping his mouth shut.

"You realized what?" Justin asked, his head tipping to one side curiously.

"Uh. Um. Uh," Dustin glanced around quickly for an escape and noticed a box of cookie mix sitting conveniently on the counter top behind him, "I realized that I want some fucking double chocolate chip cookies, godammit." Dustin looked up at Justin expectantly, hoping he didn't notice the nervous sweat breaking out on his forehead.

Justin just blinked at him.

"Well?" Dustin asked, snapping his fingers, "Get to it!" Justin complied, even though he felt that Dustin was keeping something from him.

--

Triskaidekaphobia - The fear of the number 13.