OK, first story on here. I’m kinda nervous. So I lied on my profile, I just wanted to post something now. I have a beginning and an end to this story but don’t know how the middles going to play out so I have no idea how long it’s going to be. Feel free to make suggestions.

It is slash, yaoi, MxM or how many other ways you can say it. If this offends/disgusts you, feel free to click the back button or any other like diverting you away from this page. However, I wouldn’t recommend throwing your computer out of a window; it’s very expensive you know.

I’d love it if you review. Just tell me what you think so far. I also love flames, so feel free to do that too.

Note: the Arthur Miller play mentioned us A View from the Bridge. I had to study it for my exams. Freakin’ nightmare.

I’m sorry if you don’t like this chapter, I’m trying to set up the story here.

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Chapter 1 – Fuck You World

I really hated school when I was popular. Seriously.

Two thousand kids crammed right up next to each other being forced to learn stuff which, lets face it, they were never really going to use anyway, is really fucking annoying. The teachers never helped, spending time yelling at the same kids over and over while the rest of us just endured in silence. Kicking them out was never an option. Woodsbrooke High was a ‘final chance for difficult children to achieve a quality education’ according to the official description. Most students put it, Woodsbrooke High was a teenage-trash dump. All the kids kicked out of the surrounding schools were shooed here for their ‘final chance.’ So that’s where half the student body comes from. The governors just didn’t get it. That half of the kids didn’t want to be here, and the other half wouldn’t mind it so much if the other half wasn’t here.

No wonder it was failing so badly.

So yeah, I’m Andy Monroe, nice to meet you. Proud member of the Normal Kids, not the Trash Dump kids, and a junior at Woodsbrooke.

Admittedly it’s gotten slightly better since I quit sports, dumped my girlfriend, my friends began to abandon me, and I turned into an average has-been. Confused? I’ll try to explain.

The only thing worse then being constantly surrounded by hundred of people you can’t stand is when those people worship you unconditionally. You’re approached in the hall by random burn-outs offering you dope, trying to drug you into being friends with them or by some random slut asking you if you could help her with something in the bathroom. These being people you don’t even know, being all nice and polite just so they can say Andy Monroe? Sure I know him! We’re friends and impress all their buddies at the next social gathering. Fuckers. They don’t realise that it makes me feel about two inches tall. I am a person too, not just some shiny object to parade around when your peers are looking to make yourself look good.

That accounts for one half of it, the other halves even worse.

When you play three sports, get straight A’s and are loved by all the popular kids, that automatically puts you at the top of every freak, geek, nerd and loser’s death list. Just because of who you are and what you do. I admit it, it gets to me. I suppose it’s some sort of inferiority complex thing, jealousy and what have you, making themselves fell better, but that doesn’t make it any less frustrating. OK, maybe a sound a little difficult here, bitching about being both too loved and too hated at the same time, but it’s not what I wanted. I wanted to be normal. I wanted a group of real friends who I could hang out with. I wanted to be able to eat and drink whet I wanted without being lectured by Coach Jerkoff. I wanted to sleep in on Sundays. I wanted to have detentions when the teacher said so, not football practice. I wanted to be your average, moody, hormonal, pain-in-the-ass sixteen year old.

Then I realised I could. It would be easy. I just need to stop.

So today, a biter Monday in October I turned up to school in a baggy gray sweater with loose black jeans and old beat up sneakers. My normally perfectly styled chestnut brown hair was uncontrollable, bangs hanging into my eyes and over my ears. Even my skin seemed pale and washed out. It was heaven.

My ‘friends’ reaction was hilarious. At first they thought I was ill. Hollie, my (yep, you guessed it) cheerleader girlfriend kept running her hands over my face and saying stuff like aw, poor baby and don’t worry, I’ll take care you later (insert suggestive wink here.) Ugh. Before first period I took her aside and dumped her without offering a real explanation. She actually took it really well, she said she’d being doing some soul-searching and didn’t think they were right for each other either. In slut talk that’s I’m already banging someone else. So much for I’ll take care of you. Oh well. At least I was off the hook.

Word spread quickly. Everyone was shocked; they all assumed triple-threat-sports-star and blonde-perky-cheerleader end up married with children and living a long and happy life together. What made them even more curious was the fact no one had a satisfying reason for the break up. There’s another thing I hated about popularity, there was no privacy there. Everyone fed on your personal business like scavenging hyena. I heard every rumour from I got Hollie’s sister pregnant to that she was stealing money from me, just in the two hours after the break up. Damn kids, just leave it alone.

So, first thing down. Next came quitting sports. That proved more difficult. Coach Jerkoff (nee Jenkins) was the type of teacher who was so old no one can quite remember how long he’d been at the school in the first place. He was old and fat and enjoyed watching young boys run around in tiny shorts way too much. He was also a hard ass with a terrible temper.

I knocked nervously at his office door, dreading this conversation.

“Come in.”

“Coach...”

“Andy!” He offered me a yellow grin. I held back the urge to gag. “What can I do you for?”

“I want...to...well...I was just...” Damn it this shouldn’t be so hard. PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER! “I want to quit sport.”

He peered from behind his huge old person’s glasses, his expression kind-of-disappointed. “I can’t say I didn’t see this comin’.”

Disbelief spread through me. “You did?”

“Yes. You’re a straight A student with important exams later this year, three sports on top of that is a lot to handle. Have you thought about which one to give up? I’d say Lacrosse since...”

“No!” I cut him off rudely. He glared. I trembled. “I want to give up all of them.”

“What?”

“All of them.”

“WHAT!”

I shrugged my shoulders.

“Are you insane?! Why would you do this! You can’t give up sports! This could be your career! You play basketball better then anyone I’ve ever coached! You could get a scholarship and...”

“I HATE BASKETBALL!” I cry, standing up, surprising myself. “The only reason I do this stuff is to please my parents who I also hate! You can’t force me to play, this is only a formality. I’m quitting basketball, soccer and lacrosse, OK?” Wow, I’ve never yelled at a teacher before. Jerkoff looked like he was going to explode. It felt oddly satisfying.

“This ain’t over,” he growled, “I’m calling your parents. You will keep up at least one sport.”

“Good luck.” I grumble and turn to leave. That’s when I first notice the small crowd of people gathered outside the door, including members of my various teams. Peeking in like nosy bitches, listening to what was going on. I use my weight to plough through them, ignoring the glares and whispers. I decided to head straight to next period just to avoid communicating with anyone else.

Sure enough by the time the seats were filled in English class, everyone was muttering about me and Jerkoff. I chose simply to ignore them, taking out my utensils and preparing for a boring hour of Arthur Miller. I hate him. Who the hell cares if Catherine and Rodalfo get married anyway?

I was too busy brooding to notice some pull up a chair beside me.

“Um...Andy?”

I glance up. Nathan Smith, soccer star, shameless playa and my best friend sat there, looking uncharacteristically nervous.

“Yeah?”

“Are you alright? It’s just that thing with Hollie earlier and just now I heard about you and coach. You don’t seem yourself, that’s all?”

Great, he cared. He should fucking care. I’ve carried him through this school. Setting him up with Hollie’s skanky-but-popular friend, convincing Jerkoff to give him a shot on the soccer team, spending hours coaching him soccer trying to drag him up to standard, introducing him to all the right people. And now he’s telling me I’m not myself, for a best friend he’s really doesn’t know me.

“Not myself? For the first time ever, Nathan, I’m actually being myself.”

“Oh...what does that mean?” Fucking idiot.

“It means I’m quitting sports, girls, friends and generally school. I don’t want it anymore. Is that clear?”

“Yeah, if that’s what you want.” Although his face was screaming what the fuck! It made me smile a little.

The rest of the lesson passed in relative silence and as soon as the bell rang for lunch, I rushed ahead of him to the cafeteria. I didn’t want to have to spell it out for him anymore. I ordered a burger with mustard, large carton of fries and full sugar coke just because I was allowed now. Now more high protein, low carb shitty athlete’s diet. I could eat what I liked and it felt good. I ignored my usual ‘jock table’ and went to sit on one of the empty ones in the back by myself. I heard many whispers as I passed through, most convinced I’d finally snapped and was having a mental breakdown. Hey, maybe they’re not far wrong.

I slumped back in my chair, grinning to myself, amazed at how well my transformation was going. It’d been half a day and I’d already done two out of three jobs. However the third would be the most difficult of all. I sighed slightly and began munching on fries, waiting for him to enter.

I don’t hate everything about this place, it has one redeeming feature. And he just entered the room. Five foot six, blond, lean and criminally cute. For me, that redeeming feature comes in the form of freshman Ryan Simmons.

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Finish chapter 1. I know it feels a little rushed. Please tell me now to make it better D: