OK, first story on here. I'm kinda nervous. And I lied on my profile, I want 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.

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

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, let's face it, they were never really going to use anyway is really fucking annoying in my eyes. The teachers never helped either, spending all of their 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. After all Woodsbrooke High was a 'final chance for difficult children to achieve a quality education' according to the official description. Most of the students described it as a teenage-trash dump. All the kids kicked out of the surrounding schools were shooed here for their 'final chance,' half of the student body was made from these clueless delinquents. The governors just didn't get the message; 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 and a junior at Woodsbrooke High.

Although, honestly, I may not be giving school enough credit. It has 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 than being constantly surrounded by hundreds of people you can't stand is when those people worship you unconditionally without knowing the first thing about you. Every day you're approached in the hall by random burn-outs trying to drug you into being friends with them or by some 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. Purely because of whom you are and what you do. It really gets to me. I suppose it's some sort of inferiority complex thing, jealousy or whatever, making themselves feel better, but that doesn't make it any less frustrating. OK, maybe I sound a little difficult here; bitching about being both too loved and too hated at the same time, but it was not what I wanted. I wanted to be normal. I wanted a group of real friends who I can trust and hang out with. I wanted to be able to eat and drink whet I wanted without being lectured by basketball Coach Jerkoff. I wanted to sleep in on Sundays. I wanted to take my detentions when the teacher said so, not have to work around basketball 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 bitter Monday in October I turn up to school in a baggy grey sweater with loose black jeans and old beat up sneakers. My normally perfectly styled chestnut brown hair is uncontrollable, bangs hanging into my eyes and over my ears. Even my skin seems pale and washed out for reasons unknown. It feels like heaven.

My 'friends' reaction is hilarious. At first they all thought I was ill. Hollie, my (yep, you guessed it) cheerleader girlfriend keeps 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 starts I take her aside and dump her mercilessly without even offering a real explanation. She actually handles it really well, saying that she'd being doing some soul-searching too and didn't think they were right for each other anymore either. In slut talk that's I'm already banging someone else. So much for I'll take care of you later. At least I'm off the hook.

Word spread quickly. Everyone was shocked; they'd all assumed that the triple-threat-sports-star and blonde-perky-cheerleader would 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 hate about popularity, there's no privacy here. Everyone feeds on your personal business like scavenging hyenas. Over the next few hours I hear every rumour from I got Hollie's sister pregnant to that she was stealing money from me. I wish everyone would just leave it alone.

Still, first thing down. Next comes quitting sports. I knew this would prove more difficult. Coach Jerkoff (ne Jenkins) was the type of teacher who's so old and grumpy no one can quite remember how long he'd been at the school in the first place just that it seemed like forever. He's old and fat and enjoys watching young boys run around in shorts way too much. He's also a total hard ass with a terrible temper.

I knock nervously at his office door, dreading the conversation to come.

"Come in."

"Coach..."

"Andy!" He offers me am ugly 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, I just need to pull myself together. What's he going to do? If I want to quit sports he can't do anything about it. Deep breath."I want to quit sports."

He peers from behind his huge old person's glasses, his expression disappointed but not as angry as I was anticipating. "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 glares. I tremble. "I want to give up all of them."

"What?"

"All of them."

"WHAT!"

Here it is. I shrug my shoulders nonchalantly as though it was the most casual thing in the world.

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

"I HATE BASKETBALL!" I yell suddenly, surprising myself with the power behind my voice. "The only reason I do this stuff is to please my parents who I also hate! You can't force me to do anything; this talk is only a formality. I'm quitting basketball, soccer and lacrosse, OK?" Wow, I've never yelled at a teacher before. Jerkoff is heaving heavy gasps of air and his face is so red it looks like he's going to explode. It feels oddly satisfying.

"This ain't over," he growls, "I'm calling your parents. You will keep up at least one sport. I'm not letting you throw it away."

"Good luck." I grumble and turn to leave. That's when I first notice the small crowd of people gathered outside the door, including several members of my various sports teams. Peeking in like nosy bitches, listening to what was going on. This is the exact type of thing I'm trying to escape form. I use my weight to plough through them, ignoring the glares and whispers. I decide to head straight to next period purely to avoid communicating with anyone else.

Sure enough by the time the seats were filled in English class, everyone is muttering about my confrontation with Jerkoff. I choose simply to ignore them, taking out my utensils and preparing for a boring hour of Arthur Miller. It sure as hell beats what's going on now.

I'm too busy brooding to notice some take the chair beside me.

"Um...Andy?"

I glance up. Nathan Smith, soccer star, shameless player and my best friend for many years is sitting there like he does every day. Except now he's looking uncharacteristically nervous.

"Yeah?"

"Are you alright? It's just Hollie told me about your break up earlier and just now I heard about you and there's coach. There are rumours going around you're having some sort of psychotic break. Are you feeling OK? You're not yourself."

Great, he cares. He should fucking care too. 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 in soccer trying to drag him up to standard, introducing him to all the right people. And now he's saying I'm not myself, for a best friend he's really doesn't know me.

"Am I OK? 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 school in general. I don't want to do it anymore. Is that clear?"

"Yeah, if that's what you want, I guess." His face is screaming what the fuck! It makes me smile a little.

The rest of the lesson passes in relative silence and as soon as the bell rings for lunch I grab my bag and rush ahead of him to the cafeteria. I don't want to have to spell it out for him anymore. I beat most of the queues so only have to wait a few seconds until I can order a burger with mustard, large carton of fries and full sugar coke just because I'm finally allowed to eat all that stuff now. Now more high protein, low carb shitty athlete's diet for me. I can eat what I like and it feels good. I completely ignore my usual 'jock table' and go to sit on one of the empty tables in the back so I can be alone. I hear whispers as I pass through, mostly saying that I'd finally snapped and was having a mental breakdown. Nathan was right then. And hey, maybe they're not far wrong.

I slump 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 of my jobs. However the third would be the most difficult of all. I sigh 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.

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