Chocolate Eyes

Chapter One: The Bitch is Fake

Summary: Slash. I pay attention to to classmates even though none of them know me. And one thing I know for sure is that Jessica is fucking fake. Fake nails. Fake eyes. Fake hair color. She's not even a fucking girl. So I blackmail her. Why not.

. . . . ~*~. . . .

I'm not sociable. Even if I could tolerate somebody by some miracle, that person wouldn't be able to tolerate me. Or rather, they wouldn't be able to tolerate the truth. Because I do not fuck around. To elaborate, I am so honest and blunt that it hurts. And to many people, I appear stand off-ish and really rude. And I actually kind of am. Sometimes when I have random depressed moments, I wonder if I should try dialing back a bit to make at least one friend. And then I'm like, "Oh wait! Nah. That's too much fucking effort."

Some would call me a creeper, but I'd like to call myself a people-watcher. Honestly, I have nothing better to do than observe. I'm typically labeled a loser, and I don't care. Well, I don't care much. I like to just stand and watch. I never liked to get into any of the action or actually involve myself in any. So that includes relationships, clubs, and school activities. Watching from a distance keeps me out of the line of fire and out of the drama.

And high school is all about drama. Movies create these stereotypes about teenagers in high school. And it's sad to say, but many of those stereotypical clichés are real. We have emos over there and goths over there. Preps and jocks. Nerds and geeks. And then average people. Each group of students have conflict. All this unnecessary drama. Classic scenarios like jock versus nerd, queen bitch versus other bitch, and, you know, emos and conflict at home. Well, I typically like to stay out of it. No friends equals no drama. Not getting involved equals no drama. Not talking to anybody equals no drama. Hey, I'm just looking to get through high school.

Well, it was one fine day, and I was lying in bed bored out of my fucking mind. I couldn't help thinking about how awfully bland I was. Not only is my personality boring but also my house, my parent, the school I go to and the community I live in is pretty fucking bland! Everything is boring. And I feel depressed, because I feel unfulfilled. I feel sad. I feel empty. I feel like a robot.

I feel fucking angry.

So I thought with a little laugh, You know what, it's my senior year, and I only get to be a senior in high school once. Fuck it. Let's make some drama.

I suppose the first step is to talk to someone. In order to have drama, I would need to have human interaction first. And I already have my target.

She's a fake bitch. And the fake bitch's name is Jessica. And I freaking love, love it. She's perfect for this plan, because she is perfect. Almost like a doll. Beautiful and fake. I've been watching her since freshmen year. Back then she was a blonde. Her hair's been changing color every year. Sophomore year it was red. Not like natural copper red. But like firetruck red. Junior year it was blue, the shade of the ocean. And this year it's a light purple. With tie-in golden glitter hair extensions. And her eyes? It's obvious that Jessica wears colored contacts. It's not common for an Asian to have hazel eyes.

Her nails and eyelashes are fake. I overheard a conversation that included her and her group's ringleader, Sasha, talking about how putting on fake eyelashes are such a bitch in the morning and how does Sasha get hers on in just thirty seconds?! Sasha, you are such a slut! Hehe. And how popping off a fake nail sucks dick because now Jessica has to walk around with a naked nail and it's so embarrassing.

Even her boobs are fake. I saw a sock fall out of her bra while our class was doing a science lab. She was lightning fast. She grabbed the sock and stuffed it back in before I could even register what the living hell just happened. To her credit, she didn't look around to see if anyone else saw. And she was lucky then. Because nobody important saw. And also unlucky for her. Because I saw.

And that's when it clicked. I mean, I've seen the signs, but it wasn't until I was walking out of science class watching her perky little ass sashay out of there, that everything started coming together.

Inside, I was laughing hysterically. Jessica Tran isn't even a god damn girl.

I knew then that I wanted her. The fact that everything about her was fake didn't matter. The fact that I didn't even know a thing about her besides her façade didn't matter. The fact she had a fucking penis did not matter.

I want Jessica Tran. And if Jessica Tran comes with drama, well then all the better. I already have a plan to get her to do everything that I want, to fulfill all my needs.

. . . . ~*~ . . . .

Chapter One: The Bitch is Fake End