So.
I need to delete this but meh I can't.
But, please, if you want to read something 'good' by me, check like my two most recent fics. Pretty much the rest of it is shit.
Cool.

Warning for cursing.

So he's back again.

You would think I'd start off with some sort of grand statement, something completely earth-shattering and just amazing.

But I'm not.

Get over it.

To catch you up on what's been going on since the five years he's been gone, I can say one thing.

Nothing.

Absolutely no fucking thing.

Well, there was, but whatever.

Fuck off.

So he shows up today - in the beginning of the second semester, no less! - hair flat-ironed and wavy and trimmed to perfection.

He looks like a prick.

Albeit a hairy one, but a prick nonetheless.

Not that I've seen another one save for my own.

Fuck my sex life.

His nails are filed. Who the hell files their nails? I mean, I do, but that doesn't count.

Jesus, stop badgering me.

He slips seamlessly back into school, his mini-posse of friends forming and gelling around him. Everyone gives him a "hi" or a "welcome back" as they pass in the hallway. He whispers to his buddies while making a rude gesture concerning the size of Bebe's boobs since they last saw each other.

I sneer.

His friends laugh like he's a mother fucking comedian.

Yup, still a prick.

Slam my locker shut, book bag in place, shoelaces tied, teeth flossed, sleeves brushing against my wrists.

Perfection.

Walk past him and he actually stops. The mother fucker stops whatever he was doing and waves to me. Wow, he doesn't even know my name. Fucking ass-

"Hey, Craig."

Guess he does know my name. I don't know if I want him to anymore.

"Hey, Kyle."

Just keeping walking...

Foot.

Too late...

And I'm sprawled on the floor, fat-ass' face glaring down at me with a smirk. High-and-mighty bitch.

"Don't talk to him, freak," he threatens. A smile spreads like butter across my face.

"Oh, such a kind little boy you've become. Don't tell me you lost your balls again?" Laughs from behind me. Good, good, the crowd's on my side.

Fist.

Too late.

Fuck. Now I've got blood on my favorite jacket.