sorta social;

“Hey, watch i-” Max pushed past, but recoiled defensively as she realized who she’d stumbled into. The local bad boy. Although normally she’d be getting cussed out, he seemed quieter and less responsive than usual.

“Hey… Sorry…” Apologizing felt weird but also right. “You ok?” She inquired, not wanting to set him off but genuinely concerned in his change in demeanor.

   No fucking wonder Bender missed her. She’s tiny in every way, except for how fucking huge her eyes were. He blinked once, twice, but it didn’t help. Not even a little. Because she asked if he was okay and he’s not even sure if he has an answer.

   “Call in the cavalry ‘cause the king’s come to play.” Bender is pretty sure that the revolution was something about a king. Right? Probably. It sounded cool.

❝     jesus  christ.  i’m  not  doing  all  of  this,     ❞     the  papers  scatter  on  the  desk  as  he  leans  back  with  a  huff.    ❝     how’d  i  end  up  with  you  as  a  partner  anyway?     ❞     the  latter  muttered  moreso  under  his  breath,  he  folds  his  arms,  aggravated.  luck  of  the  draw.  someone  had  to  take  initiative     ——     but  steve  hadn’t  been  paying  attention  in  class.  what  else  was  new?  

   “Good pep talk, sporto. Way to make a guy feel wanted,” Bender tossed his head so his hair was no longer in his face. His first choice had been the redhead in the front row but she was elbow deep up some jock’s ass, so that was a hopeless case. Steve? He had no clue. But the kid was ungrateful, which was just rude. 

❝     dude,  seriously?  if  we  fail  this  shit,  we’re  repeating.     ❞

      ‘   unlike the other girls you fuck, i’m a natural STRAWBERRY BLONDE. get another insult, BENDER.  ’   she shook her head, the slight curls of her hair shifting as she did.   he was RECKLESS, a trait she enjoyed, but his MOUTH, that was a PROBLEM.  he had such snark, such deviance that it made her curious as to HOW LONG they could keep this up until one of them cracked, and stormed off. 

    her mouth curled, a curt nod at his implications, greens shifted to look at his hand and she used her own to push it away from the both of them.  ‘  GROSS. is that why you came to bother me, to ask for a handjob ?  i suppose that’ll get you BRAGGING rights among the boys locker room.  ’    she dictated unsure about what he’d actually respond with; something absolutely vile no doubt.   ‘   tough luck though, i’m not really into greasers.  ’

   Frankly, Bender is a goddamn saint -- he let Heather talk, and talk, and ain’t that just the saintliest thing a guy can do for a girl? Let her blab, while he feigned attention. He found himself stuck somewhere between the snarled edge of her painted lips and the glint of expensive jewelry.

   All those preppy girls popped out of the same factory, accented with Daddy’s money and Mommy’s passive aggression. He let his hand drop, though he remained a step too close to her. He feigned injury when she slung the word ‘greaser’ at him, a term he’d accept with pride.

fingers  drift  up  to  run  across  the  fabric   –    ALWAYS  THE  TOPIC  OF  CONVERSATION   !   laughing  gently  ,   he  tilts  his  head   &   raises   a  brow  .   ❛  is  it  that  hard  to  believe  i  wear  it  because  i  like  it  ?   ❜    he  straightens  his  ascot  ,  shrugging  .   ❛  but  i  do  like  your  idea   –   oh    &    it’s   called   an  ASCOT  .  ❜

   “Wait, wait, wait -- it’s called an ass-got?” Bender made eye contact with the cloth, then the boy, then back. If it were any other kid in the school, they’d get a beat down... But Fred Jones has that prep-jock vibe, and that weirdo group of friends. He was like some alternate universe Bender with a functional home life and money. Maybe it was the rumors about Fred and that Daphne chick -- the one who had to hang with Claire. he cleared his throat and rocked back, teeth grit.

   He’s not sad, because John fucking Bender doesn’t do sad. But there’s a slump to his posture, and he’s making more eye contact with his shoes than normal. He doesn’t even budge when someone passes a little too close to him, which would have otherwise been met with a few choice curse words.