Chapter One
Blissfully/Horribly Aware
8:54 PM
August 3rd

Note: There's some foul language in this first chapter. Just warning you :)


I was going crazy. She was there, sitting on her bed and talking on her goddamn cell phone and I was going insane. I couldn't hear her, I couldn't smell her, and I couldn't even touch her. I felt like I was diseased--I was fucking sick about her and she wasn't anywhere near me. The thought made me want to throw up. I felt like a monster. I had to get out of here before I suffocated.

Quickly, I pulled the curtain down and stubled back towards my bedroom door, the image playing in my mind. In anger, I struck against the first thing I could hit--of course, it had to be my lamp. "Fuck!" I shouted, stumbling towards the broken piece of furniture. It had broken cleanly into two distinctly messed up pieces of lamp--I either had to glue it, or shove it somewhere my mom would never see it.

I grabbed the top of the lamp, some white thing that shilded the light or whatever, and shoved it into the back of my closet. I quickly threw the rest of the pieces underneath my bed, rearranging some boxes full of crap to hide the mess. As I was on the floor examining the depths of hell (my bed), I heard three loud bangs on my door and my mom screaming "Frankie?! Frankie baby, are you alright? I'm coming in!"

"Shit." I mumbled, and stood up as fast as I could, though I stumbled like a retard and fell into my desk, catching my elbow on the edge of the table. I hissed in pain while my mom threw open the door, took one look at me, and ran over. "What were you doing, Frankie?" My mom asked, her forehead creasing with worry. I mumbled something that sounded like "Eugh.." and winced as another round of pain rang though my arm.

Pansy.

I slowly stood up and fell back on my bed, welcoming the comfy sheets. My mom eyed me warily and gestured towards my bleeding elbow. "Are you alright, Sweetie?" She asked. I frowned and nodded. Did she really have to call me that? What was I, a fucking bird?

Great. Now I was taking all my anger out on my mom. My innocent, kind and wonderful mom who made me pancakes and coffee every single morning.

"Yeah. I'm fine mom." I muttered, switching my anger onto my stupid goddamn neighbor who'd gotten me into this shit anyways. My mom nodded, albeit slowly, and got up. "Okay. If you're sure..." She said deliberately pausing her movements. I sighed and rolled my eyes, glaring at my mom. "I'm fine." I said. My mom raised an eyebrow and nodded, leaving the room with a quiet smile.

For a moment I stared at my closed door, then moved my stare to the window with the shut blinds, and then to my car keys. I swiftly stood from my bed and grabbed my keys, making my way quietly from my room and down to the front door. It seemed my mom had gone to bed.

Quietly, I opened and closed the front door and headed to my car with the sole purpose of getting rid of my disgusting thoughts.

* * * * * *

The next morning I stumbled down the stairs and into the kitchen, called by the wonderful smell of pancakes. "Yes," I mumbled. "Something good in my life; fucking finally." My mom turned at the sound of my entrance and emptied the pancakes onto a plate. "What was that, Honey?" She asked loudly, tossing the pan into the sink with an obnoxious bang. I winced and sat down at the table, pulling the newspaper that was spread out on the table closer.

"Uh, nothing?" I said, pretending to wonder what the hell she was talking about. My mom smiled and shook her head. I could almost hear her thinking, that little wippersnapper. I glanced once at the front section of the paper and frowned, too tired to learn all the depressing shit that was going on today.

"Here's your pancakes." My mom said, placing a plate of four pancakes infront of me. I grinned and grabbed the fork and knife she had in her hand and dug in, uncaring about the fact that I probably looked primeval. My mom sat down on the chair across from me and slowly pulled the newspaper towards her with a small smile. "Now Frankie, don't forget that you have registration today." She said.

I stared at her.

"You didn't know that?" She asked with mock suprise. Well, I assumed it was mock. She was obviously pulling my leg. "That's funny mom." I said, devouring my last pancake. My mom sighed and rested her elbows on the table. "I'm not lying, Frank. Get ready, okay? We're leaving in thirty minutes."

I gaped at her for a few seconds and then quickly rushed my plate to the sink, washed it, and put it into the dishwasher in about three more seconds. I've got about twenty-seven minutes and thirty... I glanced at the clock ..three more seconds to get ready for Peach Lindenborg.

I ran up the stairs, tripping on a few, and made it to my room in...one minute. With practice, I spent two minutes in the shower, five on my hair, and seven on my outfit. I was only acting like a chick because I had my mind on fucking Peach and how perfect she was and that I had to look my best for her.

Peach Lindenborg, whose real name was Ophelia--though she insisted that Ophelia was for old women and so dubbed herself Peach--was a one-of-a-kind gal. It was a trite thing to say, but that was the only way I could describe her. I mean, she named herself after one of the hottest girls in all of video gaming history (at least, that's what I thought). I mean, Peach from Mario 64 was a babe. Anyone can testify to that.

Not only was Peach Lindenborg amazing for the sole purpose of her name, she was also undeniably beautiful (in my opinion), small, and kind. If I were to be stuck on some island with anyone, I'd chose Peach instantly. I mean, I bet she made delicious cookies. All girls like Peach made awesome cookies (though Peach was, after all, one-of-a-kind). As I mulled over whether or not Peach would be an amazing cookie maker, my mom knocked on my door hastily and glanced at my room with disgust.

"First off, what did you do to your room?" My mom asked, astonished. "Well--wait, you know what? Never mind. We're going now, Franklyn. If you're not ready, then it's your fault for not listening to me." She said. I whined about her actions being interpreted as child abuse, but my mom ignored me and pushed me out of my room, shutting my door with a sound of finality. I sighed, glancing down at my outfit with anxiety. I bet I looked like a hobo. An old, ninety-nine year old hobo with alchoholic and drug abusing tendencies. I scoffed.

"If you're going to wallow in self-pity, please do so after you take your picture." my mom scolded, waiting for me as I shoved my shoes on. As soon as I was finished she forcefully pushed me into the garage and got into the car, quickly turning the engine on. "If this girl doesn't like you for your personality, and only for your looks, then she is a waste of your time." My mom mumbled, backing out of the garage. I stared at her for a minute and then busied myself with staring out the window.

What if she hates the color black? Why did I pick the color black? What am I, fucking Batman?

I sighed heavily and leaned my head against the window, anticipating a Peach Lindenborg and all of her amazing-ness. I also anticipated a Peach Lindenborg who had no clue who the hell I was.

* * * * *

By the time we arrived at school the parking lot was so full of BMW's and Volkswagen Beetle's that we couldn't find a spot anywhere near the entrance. Instead, my mom chose the back lot where the dumpsters where. "Mooom," I whined, glancing around warily, "This is not gonna make a good impression on the ladies." I muttered. My mother threw me an unamused glance and continued to walk at a leisurely pace towards the front of the school.

I briefly wondered if I smelled like dumpster shit.

After we arrived at the entrance and I realized that:

1. There were no hot chicks around,

and

2. Peach wasn't here at the moment,

I let out a relaxed smile and followed lamely behind my mom, looking for the sophomore line. "Oh hey, there it is." I said to my mom. I glanced behind me and noticed that she wasn't paying attention to me (her amazing son), but to the group of giggling girls beside us.

"Hi, Frankie." One of the girls called towards me. I glanced at the one that'd spoken and searched my brain for her name.

Oh goddammit! Was her name Lindsay or Lauren? Fuck!

"Oh Lisa, let him get his registration stuff first. We can all talk later." A different blonde said, throwing me a wink. Shit. It was Lisa. Whoops. My mom pleasantly snorted and began her walk towards the sophomore booths, gesturing for me to follow. I smiled and waved at the girls, "Bye, ladies." I said. They gave varied answers back, but I was already on my way to the booth.

Fleetingly, I wondered if I was supposed to stay and listen to them. Did it matter...?

"Franklyn." My mom called, fixing me with a cool, calculating stare. I glanced around in a casual manner and decidedly stuck my gaze on the vending machines beside the senior booths. Some brunette girl thougt I was staring at her and threw me a small grin. I smiled back towards her and finally faced my mom, prepared for whatever random crap she was gonna spew at me today.

"Who were those girls, Frankie? They looked like they had little respect for each other, and for themselves, too." She muttered the last part as if I wouldn't hear. I grinned and glanced back towards the group of girls from before, wondering where I'd met them. Had it been at the pep rally? Maybe it was one of the baseball games. And, well shit, I just couldn't remember. Shame.

My mom kept talking about girls and their self-respect while I stared the the school entrance in a daze. I wondered briefly if Peach Lindenborg brought a fan with her, or if the breeze just naturally flowed through her hair perfectly at all the right moments. She really was perfect. She was dressed in some long, flowy dress with her hair pinned back. I thought she looked like some kind of model--or at least a movie star. As she walked into the school, I noticed a few girls give unnecessary glares and a few boys give unnecessary smiles. I wondered if Peach would be okay with me punching every single one of them. I know I would be.

"I mean honestly, and sometimes these--Frankie? Are you even listening to me?" My mom asked from behind. Very slowly, I turned towards her and nodded, the motion almost undetected because of my haste to look back upon the beauty of Peach.

"What are you looking at, Sweetie?" My mom asked me, glancing in the same direction I was. "Is it another one of those poor, self conscious blonde girls?" She mumbled, looking closer to see where exactly I was looking. I sighed and nodded towards Peach, keeping my mouth shut. At least, for a few seconds. I gave in.

"That's Peach, mom. She's the girl I've liked since I've known how to pee on my own." I said with a small smile. My mom glanced at me with a sarcastic look and stared more intently at Peach. With a sudden grin my mom ruffled my hair and turned back towards the booths. "She looks nice, Frankie. Good job."

My brief smile dropped. It wasn't as if I had a chance with her. God, I wanted a chance with her.

"Next in line, please." A voice shouted from behind the booth. My mom stepped forward, and so, I reluctantly followed, relinquishing my gaze on Peach.

* * * * *

"I think it's a lovely picture," my mom said, gazing at my school ID. I cringed at the stupified look I had on my face. It was only there because Peach had walked by just as the camera man had taken the picture. And of course, when I'd asked if I could have a retake, the camera man stared at me like I was an idiot and said, "You only get one try, kid. Sorry."

I thought that people in this world were full of kind and giving actions. According to the camera man, that was a lie.

"I should just burn it and demand a retake." I muttered. My mom glanced at me with alarm. I sighed and took the card out of her hand, shoving it into my pocket. "Whatever. It's fine. I don't care anymore."

My mom just gave me one of her weird smiles and shrugged, starting the car so that we could leave the place.

As soon as we arrived home, I ran upstairs to my room and threw my shoes off, glancing towards my covered window. With slow steps, I walked towards the window and pulled the curtain away, immediatly catching the beautiful blonde hair and then her pretty face. With a bittersweet sigh, I sat on the bench underneath the window and gazed out towards her, completely aware of Peach's presence next door--and her blissfully unaware of my presence.

I felt like a creepy old man. Of course, I'd never do this and get caught--so I guess this wasn't that creepy. She didn't know, so it wasn't weird, right? With a sigh, I watched as Peach sat down on her bed and pulled a brush through her beautiful blonde hair, gazing out towards and point I couldn't see.

And dammit, I wished I was that bed she was sitting on. I mean, how figgin' sweet would that be?


A/N: Well, first chapter out. Second one out on Friday. This story's gonna be a bit different, I think. :)