Forever and Never

"Get the fuck outta the way, would ya?"

Today is really not the day for bullshit, and Ron, stepbrother of the goddamn century, is making every second of my life unbearable. He's blocking my way with his body, and I'm trying my hardest not to shove him to the floor and hit the stairs. He deserves it. Oh, God, I swear he deserves it. But no, the short fuck is going to keep standing in front of me, his back to me like he doesn't know I'm around. The staircase is narrow and he's pretty much blockading the whole damned thing.

"Ron. Move."
"Oh, Ronnie!" he feigns surprise as he turns, looking shocked. "Oh my gosh, I didn't even know you were there."
"You're so annoying. Get outta the way."
"God, what crawled up your ass and died, huh?"

I hate him. I hate him so much. He makes my blood boil and my heart race and I try so hard to not get suspended and not fight and the asshole goes and pushes me to the edge. He's gonna give me a heart attack one day.

I grip his shoulder, snatch him back so hard he hits the ground and doesn't get up for a second. He rolls onto his side before pushing himself up, moaning a little. Good.

"You fuck, that was so unnecessary!" he snaps, picking up his papers and all that had scattered when he fell. "If you had asked nicely--"
"You don't deserve any manners, fucker. Next time, stay out of the way."

I figure that well, I'm already late, so I might as well let him know who's in charge. I slam him against the wall, watch him cringe and I sneer. I want him to hurt. He deserves it, all of it. He stares at me and he looks like a defenseless, trapped animal. He's such a dick.

"Let go," he chokes, trying to squirm out of my hold. I just smirk - I honestly probably look like a psycho - and squeeze harder on his shoulders. He kicks and I guess that's when I should stop, because I fucking swear, if he kicks me...
"Whatever. At least you're not in front of the steps."
"I hate you," he snaps, brushing off his shoulders like I left dirt on them. Ass.
"The feeling's mutual, Ficarro."

With that, I'm off to my next class. Thanks to Ron, I'm later than late and I just roll my eyes. I never get detention unless security happens to catch me, which rarely happens, so I just stroll into class and take my seat. I wonder if Ron made it to his class yet. I hope he tripped and smacked his fucking face.

"Mr. Radke," starts the teacher, but I stop him with a careless wave of my hand.
"I know, I know."

I'm seated in the back, and not too far ahead of me is the one and only Craig Mabbitt. He's glaring at Ryan, Ron's weird and loud friend. Ryan seems to shrink underneath Craig's cold glare and Craig snickers before looking away, glancing at Ryan every so often. I don't see the appeal in screwing with Ryan, really. He's alright to me. I mean, he's like the one guy that can get everyone to like him. Except for Craig, anyway.

Craig. He doesn't really like anyone, I've learned. He likes me, though. Not in the way I like him. Definitely not. I'm sure Craig has never daydreamed about me, had wet dreams about me, worried about my approval, imagined a life with me. I sincerely doubt it.

We're supposed to be taking notes or some shit, but nope. I honestly can't focus on that. Craig's a few feet in front of me and my ex is two seats beside me. I glance his way and he is too busy balancing his pencil on the edge of his desk to notice me. He never notices me anymore. He hardly noticed me before, not unless he wanted something. Fucker. How could I have ever been in love with Oli fucking Sykes?

Whatever. I don't have the time to glance at that asshole. I decide to stare at Craig (well, Craig's back) for a moment and then, even that begins to get boring. I start scribbling in my notebook, culminating in nonsense bullshit that I guess can be classified as poetry if you squint. I dunno, it might depend on who's reading, which will be no one because as nonsense as it may be, it's also private. Seriously.

I keep private journals hidden all throughout my house. I'd like to think they'r pretty well concealed. Maybe it's a little stupid to keep journals of poetry and lyrics and doodles and shit. Maybe it's a little girly, maybe it's a little lame, but I don't care, so I keep them around.

Before I know it, the bell is screeching. Oh, fuck yes. I start to walk out and then I get a sharp elbow in my back. I stagger forward and whip around to see Oli. Of course. He stares at me for a minute, rubbing the back of his neck and nibbling on his bottom lip. Goddamn him.

"Sorry, mate," he mumbles. It's like I'm a stranger. Hell no. If anything, he's the stranger. I thought I know him and I thought wrong.

I shake my head and say, "It's fine." I turn away from him because we're done here. I speed up and get the hell out of the classroom and I find Craig, oh thank God. He has his back to me, so I tap him on the shoulder. He turns, an angry frown all set and ready to go and a fist balled up, prepared for the guy who had the balls to touch him. Then he eases up and grins.

His goddamn grin.

"Ronnie, dude. I was about to beat your ass," he laughs, smacking my arm. I roll my eyes, taking a second to look him over. He looks amazing, as always. A little scruffed up and dirty, with his jet black hair messy and a little tangled and his leather collar sticking up. Good Lord.

"You wish."
"What, you think I couldn't?"
"I don't think, I know."

He takes this as an opportunity to pin me to the lockers, gripping my shirt and giving me this really dark look and it's probably nothing but it does something to me, my insides, that I can't deal with. I push him away and he just laughs again, throwing his arm around my shoulders and poking my chest.

"I could kick your ass," he says.
"Okay, yeah, whatever."
"But I'd much rather kick someone else's."

Craig narrows his eyes at Ryan, who is minding his own business, looking for somebody or something. I don't see the point in screwing with the guy. He turn to us and he almost waves at me, but freezes when he sees Craig. I can understand why. Craig fucking hates him.

"Hey, Ryan," he says, cracking his knuckles, taking his arm off of me. Damn.
"H-Hi-Hey," Ryan stutters out, backing away before turning and running. Oh, he shouldn't have done that. There's nothing Craig loves more than a chase. He glances at me an waves me on, saying,
"C'mon, Ronnie, baby! Let's hit it."

He always calls me that, baby, and it probably doesn't mean shit, but I like it. I like it a lot. I love it.

And because I love it and I'm in love with him, I run behind him. Sorry, Ryan.



I'm just fishing through my locker when somebody slams into me. I hit the ground for the second damn time today and it's Ryan who has knocked me down this time. Ryan. How cute is he?

"Oh my God, sorry, bu-but I gotta go, we should run, Craig is coming a-and we should run!"
"Whoa, slow down, Ry. Take a breath."
"No time, no time, c'mon, here he comes!"

Well, where there's Craig, there's Ronnie. And Ronnie, I can't fucking stand him. What the hell made him switch from tolerable to Satan? He used to be pretty alright, then he became a dick. There's no way he could have found out about...

"Ron, go!"

Ryan takes my hand and flies down the hall, dragging me along the hall. At least I was able to lock up my locker before we took off. I can hear Craig shouting something behind us, and I don't care. I am not stopping to get my ass handed to me by my stepbrother, who I know is trailing behind Craig because he doesn't have a mind of his own, in public.

We take refuge in the boys' bathroom, locking ourselves in the last stall. Ryan falls to the floor, breathing heavily. I lean against the wall, trying hard to catch my breath. I hear them come in, Craig's biker boots loud and dead against the tile and Ronnie's Converse just shuffling along. Oh, fuck me fuck me fuck me.

I look down at Ryan and he looks up at me with big, worried eyes. He looks so damned cute, I have to admit. He always looks cute. Now, however, is not the time to think about how attractive my crush of the century looks. Now is the time to focus on surviving.

It's Craig who bangs on the stall door, laughing maniacally.

"Open up, Ryan!" he says so tauntingly. I swear, Craig is not always in his right mind.

I think he's nuts, okay. That or my hatred for him makes me see him as a psycho. I don't care. I just hope he doesn't get in here. I actually hold my breath, even though he has no idea I'm even here. His target is Ryan, but I like Ryan. Why would I want to sentence my crush to death?

Finally, he stops hitting and kicking the door when Ronnie says, "Look, man, class is gonna start in two minutes and I can't be tardy again. Let's go. You really want a detention for being late?"
"But--"
"Really?"

Then I hear Craig sigh and then they're gone. Oh, thank God they're gone. I breath a heavy sigh of relief and so does Ryan, who immediately launches into a hug. His arms are super-tight around me and he's so close to me and he's so warm and he smells good, like cologne and I can't describe it better than the scent that some guys just have and it's good.

"We're safe!" he says, sounding truly excited. I nod and stab straight, unlocking the door and waking out.
"Yep. Now let's hit it. Dickweed has a point - tardies, man."

He takes my hand - oh, God - and leads me to our next class, which is Economics. Joy. We make it just as the bell rings, which is probably the only stroke of luck I'm getting today. I take my seat in the back and Ryan in the middle. Immediately, he starts to talk to his pretty-boy friend Max Green. Am I jealous of Max? Maybe a little. Just a little. Ryan talks to Max all the time, spends all of his time with Max, I swear he centers his goddamn life around Max. How fucking unfair.

I let out a quiet sigh and decide that, well, no Ronnie in this class. Now is as good a time as any to start reading this lovely thing I happened to find around the house.

It's a journal, a composition book with "RONNIE" scribbled on the cover in thin Sharpie. I can only imagine what lies within.

It's only fair. I'm just reading his stupid journal, not trying to break his bones. I don't feel the need to start physical altercations with Ronnie - he starts them with me.

I open the book and on the first page, he's scratched out so many words and lines of whatever he's written, settling on writing the word "PRIVATE" in the center and circling it about fifty times.

This should be fun.