#*john smith

who would be the one to randomly adopt a puppy without consultation: Jane. John’s positively surprised it wasn't a chimpanzee.

who would force the other to take aesthetic pictures of them:  John likes to request photos of himself looking out into the scenery or loading up his gun. When Jane isn’t sketching him, that is.

who would do stuff they think is stupid just to make the other one happy: They both do.

who picks out the horror movies to watch just so the other will cling to them: John, but he’s not exactly the biggest fan of them either.

who is constantly studying and who is constantly trying to distract them: Jane will be reading up on the latest endangered species whilst John is attempting to get her to join him on a casual stroll.

who initiates the facetime calls whenever they’re separated: Jane.

who is more likely to storm out after a fight and who is more likely to cry when they do: John would storm out and Jane is more likely to cry.

who stays up way too late binge-watching their favorite shows: John, he does try to get Jane to join him with a late night cup of tea.

who bites the other’s ear when they’re feeling frisky: Jane.

who sprays the other with water when they’re washing the car: John, Jane always ends up completely drenched.

who has more fun decorating the house during holidays: Jane, but John has to step in despite protest from Jane whenever the ladder comes out.

who is more likely to give the silent treatment when they’re mad at the other: John. Jane’s never quiet. But when she is, John gets very very worried.

who plays with the others’ hair more: Jane picks at his and says it’s a grooming technique of apes, which is kind of a major turn-off.

who is more likely to climb all over the other one when they’re bored: Jane.

who tries to kiss the other as often as they can: John.

who pouts when the other one tells them to shut the fuck up: Jane.

who initiates the sex and who walks away when the other is riled up: John, then Jane is more likely to laugh to annoy him and get on with her studies.

who always forgets the umbrella and who holds it when they actually have one: Jane doesn’t forget her umbrella, but John usually ends up the one having to carry it after being splashed too many times by Jane’s constant sudden stopping.

who demands showering first in the mornings: John, since he has work earlier.

who sneaks into the shower with the other one in the mornings: Both.

who prefers riding the roller coasters and who prefers playing the games: John prefers the roller coasters but isn’t so sure of what Jane thinks of them. Her mind seems to change with every twist and jump of them.

who will text the other one thirty times in a row until they respond: Jane.

who always forgets to charge their phone overnight: John.

who comes up behind the other and slide their hands into their back pockets: Jane.

who tries to get hugs from the other as often as they can: It changes frequently.

All work and no play makes Thomas a dull boy.

Being stuck in a dead-end job had it's benefit's to some -- the type of people who couldn't for the life of them get used to change. That's who these jobs were aimed at. The ones who had completely given up on all the aspirations and hopes and dreams. The type of fuckers who didn't care if their wife were cheating on them with the man who came and fixed the drains every morning. The ones who didn't have time to care or even give any love and affection to their family anymore. No. Those were the types who liked these jobs. They'd practically sold their souls and every piece of remaining life in them to the devil. Thomas, he was different. He had none of the former, no. In fact, he had nothing, really. But all this was about to change.

Insomnia. It isn't fun. Lying there, staring at the ceiling for hours on end, contemplating your life, what was the point? The shadows under his eyes mirrored that of an addicts and his pale, freckled complexion did nothing to help this. Thomas knew he had to do something about this problem, the doctor suggested numerous amounts of different types of pills to take, but none of them seemed to work. Then, the suggestion of therapy -- apparently there were these night support groups you could go to where everyone who had insomnia would meet up and discuss their pain, who knew? Thomas decided to go, although the first time, knowing his clumsiness, he ended up in the wrong support group -- one dedicated to those suffering of cervical cancer. It took awhile for him to clock on to the fact he was the only man in the room, but nonetheless, he couldn't just get up and leave as these women were describing their pain and misery. The stench of poppy tears spread across the room.

Thomas slept like a baby that night, the first night's sleep he had in almost three years. For the next month, Thomas kept going back to the support groups, having people sob onto him of their loss of parents, or wail about the decay that had inflicted on their lungs and livers themselves. Thomas cried too, hearing of all of their stories and just how awful their lives really were compared to his, and this is what helped him sleep so well at night. After a few more weeks, something began to change. Someone had seemed to always be there, a horrid re-occurrence kept happening and it stopped Thomas from sleeping once more. Her name was Alice.

Alice, the name that began to haunt Thomas' now restless thoughts. She sat at the back of each class, dressed in her dark clothing with a cigarette permanently in hand. Thomas could recognise that particular scent from the first class he attended. Even the sound of her own breathing was like nails on a chalkboard to him. All Thomas wanted to do was grab her by the shoulders and yell: "Alice, ya liar! There's nothin' wrong with you, I need this! Why are ya doing this to me?!" But he knew he couldn't, because what was his excuse for going to all of these classes? She would have obviously noticed he was also always there. too Thomas decided to follow her after one of the classes in an attempt to make some sort of negotiation. She walked into a thrift store.

Stood outside the shop, a man, tall and blonde, tanned, a white shirt with a denim jacket draped over his shoulder. Everything Thomas was not. His handsome features hidden behind a pair of darkened sunglasses. This man appeared to be spinning a shotgun's trigger around his index finger. His eyes locked with Thomas', and he stopped spinning. Instead, John slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a slender cigarette, pulling the trigger.

A flame arose from the barrel. John took a drag and turned to the other man with a grin. "She's stealing the donations, you know, out the back. That's what she does, that's how she gets her kicks out of life."

The last place Jane wants to be early Saturday morning is at school, and certainly not in detention. It’s bad enough she has to be confined to the place five out of seven days of the week; being forced to go there during the weekend is bordering on psychological torture. While her father drives her there, she fidgets in the passenger seat with her gloves and grouses to him.

“Daddy, are you certain you can’t get me out of this? There’s absolutely no need for me to go to detention at all, what I did was hardly punishable. And every weird kid at school is bound to be there. Do you want me exposed to those sorts of people?”

Jane senses some guilt in her father’s ensuing sigh, and almost gets her hopes up before Mr Porter replies, “I’m sorry Janey, but my hands really are tied with this. How about this; I’ll make it up to you by buying you something when we go out tomorrow. You did say you wanted new boots.”

She frowns at this, but the promise of new boots is enough to pacify her for the time being. When her father stops at the front of the school and she gets out, she notices someone else arriving at the same time; a girl who she thinks might be named Wendy but isn’t altogether sure, for they have never exchanged a word. All she knows about Wendy is that she never appears at any parties nor does anything worth telling on the grapevine. The girl is apparently far too busy with her study to have anything resembling a life. Jane is surprised to see someone like Wendy showing up to Saturday detention, and after a moment of reflection rolls her eyes and figures the girl is probably doing an extra-credit project.

To her amazement, she finds Wendy sitting in the middle-row of seats arranged in the library for the students in detention. Rather than ask her what she is doing here, however, Jane chooses not to acknowledge her and seats herself at the front. The sound of the door slamming open makes the two jump, and they look up to see the school’s resident criminal-in-the-making, John Smith, making a very disruptive entrance. The boy knocks almost every book off the shelves that he passes on his way to one of the rear-most seats. Unlike Wendy, John is someone that Jane had just about expected to see here today, although she still can’t help the shiver of apprehension she feels at having to spend an entire eight hours with him. She's heard the things he's done; they all have.

Another surprise arrives in the form of Thomas Towne, a guy Jane knows somewhat through sharing the same social circles. He is one of the school’s star athletes, having won every single track event he has entered since he first started attending. She can’t help but wonder what he might have done to land himself in detention. Once all four of them are seated, someone steps out from beneath the shadows near the back corner, and they are startled to see that Ms Tremaine has been in the library the whole time. Each one of them curses their luck in landing her as supervisor, for she is one of the most feared teachers in the entire school.

“I do believe one of our number is yet to arrive. …Though I can’t say I’m much surprised.” As if on cue, the library door opens once again to admit a figure swathed in black. They all watch as Alice Liddell, known basket case, wanders over to the corner and sits down with her back to them. Jane knows little of Alice save for what the girl spontaneously screams at intermittent points of the school day, in the classroom, in the cafeteria and sometimes even the girls' bathroom. If her words were to be believed, which Jane does not, then a madwoman has been after the girl's head for many weeks now. Jane and Thomas give each other an amused look. What a spaz. 

Ms Tremaine folds her arms, and continues as though uninterrupted. She steps impossibly slowly around each desk and gives them each a few leafs of paper. “You are here today to spend eight hours reflecting on your various misdeeds in the hopes that you may refrain from repeating them in future. I know better, however; none of you will ever change, so today may instead be considered an exercise in determining the length of my patience. You do not want to contribute to it further than you already have, I assure you.”

She pauses here to pull the chair on which John’s feet are propped out from under him. “Do not think you will be allowed to squander your time staring aimlessly at the ceiling. Your task is to produce a thousand-word exposition who you believe yourselves to be. Again, a fruitless exercise, but should you not hand one in at the end of the day, you will find yourselves here at the exact same time next Saturday. Are we clear?”

As Jane ponders the depths of hell her life has suddenly sunk to, she hears John clear his throat before saying, “I would just like to extend my deepest sympathies to you, Ms Tremaine, for clearly having no place better to be today than looking after a bunch of kids that aren’t even your own.” Ms Tremaine levels a glare at John, and Jane has to wonder how the boy hasn’t already gone up in flames, so intense is the fury in that glare. The woman refrains from responding and chooses instead to retreat into the library’s office, where she is no doubt watching them through the blinds of the office’s window.

“Wrinkly old bitch,” John comments mildly when she is out of ear-shot. Jane tries to ignore the four of them behind her, and focus her thoughts on the boots she will soon be in possession of. It is hard to ignore, however, when John begins tearing his paper, scrunching them into balls, and throwing them at her and Thomas. To their credit, neither of them react visibly, though Jane thinks she can see Thomas clenching his jaw to her left. When he runs out of paper, John slides to sit on top of his desk, where he begins kicking the back of Wendy’s chair, chanting the lyrics to “Like A Virgin” all the while. Jane, despite herself, starts feeling sorry for Wendy when she notices the girl’s pained expression, but in adherence to her “ignore them” policy does nothing about it.

A sudden noise from the back of the library has their heads all turning to see Alice sliding out books from various shelves and tossing them over her shoulder. No one knows what to say, aside from John. “You know, sometimes I wonder about you. Is the whole being batshit insane thing real, or are you just doing a bit?”

Alice, in lieu of a response, aims a book at him and throws. Luckily for John, her aim is shoddy and the book ends up about four feet to his right. Jane hopes to god that John’s attention will continue to be focused on Alice, but a few seconds later she hears the words, “So you, you two. Are you screwing each other or what?” slung at her back. She grits her teeth while Thomas turns in his seat and snaps back, “Shut up! Leave us alone, will you?”

Dread pools in the pit of Jane’s stomach as she feels someone gripping her shoulder, swivelling her round to meet John’s eyes a few centimetres away from hers. “Sweetheart, how long do you think you’re going to be able to ignore us, huh? We’ve got eight hours together today, and no matter how much you think you’re above us, you’re still here, stuck with us in Saturday detention. So really, you’re not so different from us at all.”

Bass pulsed and thumped all around them, strobe lights painting the world with streaks of green and red. Everything was a blurred mess to Alice, although she was so far off her tits it was a surprise she could even see anymore. A pre-swall at Thomas’ place had them half-drunk before they’d event been waved into the club; two hours later, as it drew closer to midnight, and she was staggering like no-one’s business. One foot in front of the other, she tried to tell herself, and she’d get to where she needed to go, no matter how unsteadily she walked.

She had no idea where the fuck her friends were.

Well, that was a lie – she’d spotted John and Jane in a corner of the dancefloor, lips locked together as they ground against each other, Jane’s hands firmly on her boyfriend’s ass. She had turned away from that, because the sight was making her sick. Or was it the Jack Daniels? God above only knew. She’d had five shots of it since she arrived, two of them blowjob style, and she’d gotten easily pissed on them, not to mention the bottle of Mickey Finns someone had pressed into her hands, that she had chugged in under thirty seconds. Oh, she was paying for it now, as the alcohol hit her like a truck to the face. The room turned and her stomach with it, and her eyes focused briefly on those on the dancefloor. Some were even dancing, hands up as they moved, but many and more were simply grinding against each other; boys on boys, girls on girls, boys and girls on top of each other, like Soddom and Gommorah packed into a box. It wasn’t even a box. Frankly, she had no idea what the fuck it was, but they were in it and God, she’d have loved to get a bit. Alcohol always had this effect on her.

Wendy. Thomas. Merida. The names floated to the forefront of her mind and she turned once more, trying to see through the coloured blurs to find them. She had no idea what she was looking for, or what her friends even looked like. That could have been Thomas and Wendy dancing together, alarmingly close, and that could have been Merida, lying on the bar and chugging raw vodka, but she just couldn’t tell. Colours were inverting – she had taken drugs too, hadn’t she? Yes. She had. The joint that had been passed around at Thomas’ place, and an LSD stamp in the toilets just after she’d come in. No wonder everything was spinning, changing, defying every law she ever knew. If she looked up and squinted, she could see vultures, but that didn’t matter. They were alright, those vultures. Dirty bastards who wanted to corrupt your head with terrible music, who wanted to cut into your heart and your mind, fill it with diamond mind control, but alright beyond that.

An arm around her waist. Where the fuck had that come from? She had been preoccupied with the voice in her head, the one that encouraged her every so often to just cut someone’s throat. Broken glass littered the floor around the bar, where she-who-would-be-Merida had flung the glasses off to make room. Find a sharp enough one, and she could be deadly. It was a shame John hadn’t brought his gun. The arm was still around her waist. Someone was kissing her neck, and she couldn’t help herself; her eyes closed and she tilted her head back, giving them more access to it. Some things were just irresistible, and for her, that was one.

Wake up. Roll out of bed. Stumble to bathroom. Wash or shower. Stagger back to bedroom. Strap on the same bland uniform they’d worn for the last four days. Add a few personal touches. Grab some breakfast, if they weren’t already running late, and race for the bus to take them back to the dull torture chamber that served as an education chamber. Dull, bleary eyes, still red with sleep, the thumping of footsteps in time as they traipsed through the doors to have knowledge they never wanted funneled into their heads as the government saw fit. First thing in the morning, they were tired, passive, unwilling to ever object.

Come three thirty on a Friday afternoon, things changed.

John was always the first one out of classes, and always the first waiting on the steps of St. Trinian's, a cigarette dangling loosely from his lips as teenagers spilled out of the school doors. His eyes lingered on the flood of humanity, scanning it for a familiar face, when he felt a tap at his shoulder, knowing it would be Tommy. Sure enough, when he turned around, the ginger was falling onto the wall beside him, running a hand through tousled hair. His bag thunked to the ground, and John passed over the cigarette, taking a moment to muss up his own locks as he spotted the headteacher. For a second, there was fleeting eye contact, and John mentally dared him to say a thing about the two scruffy boys, but no action was taken. Teenagers were frightening enough to their own peers – to adults, they were abominations that were unable to be challenged, and no-one in their right mind was ever going to go up against John Smith. Another nudge at his shoulder, and Thomas passed back the cigarette, a hush falling over them as others milled around them, waiting for their own friends. Unkempt boys, with untucked shirts and loosened ties, girls with skirts hiked high and shirt buttons hanging open, they were a sight to behold according to their educators, and not in a good way.

“Heard that Adam kid challenged someone to a fair dig,” Thomas reported as he rifled through his bag for his own packet of cigarettes.

“Aye. Me, at six tonight,”

“…are you serious?”

“Yeah. He was talking shit, am I supposed to let him?”

“John, are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

“Would I have said yes if I didn’t?”

“Yeah,”

Thomas shook his head and grinned around the cigarette dangling from his lips as he pulled a lighter out of his pocket, cupping his hand around the flame to ensure it wouldn’t go out. A few more students flounced out past them, a few foreign exchange students from France – in the eyes of the teachers, they were the only well-dressed students at the school, but that didn’t make them any less hostile. The two sisters who had come were constantly at each other’s throats, and the blonde one, Marie Bonfamille, had been involved in a catfight with Merida DunBroch in the canteen that left her with a broken finger, and Merida needing stitches. Thomas caught her eye as she walked out, the two of them trading a smirk, and John watched, mildly bemused. He and Thomas had been friends since primary school, but even he didn’t have an awful lot of faith in him ever getting anywhere close to Marie. She’d tear him to shreds before he knew what hit him.

“Well, boys,”

The familiar voice of Wendy darling reached their ears, and John raised a hand in greeting as Thomas continued to fumble with his lighter. Wendy plucked it from his grasp, clicking it on and lighting the cigarette quickly – they’d all spent one night watching Thomas try to light a cigarette for ten full minutes. He’d almost set fire to Alice’s curtains, and they’d made a pact after that that if he took more than four attempts to light a cigarette, someone else was to do it for him. Wendy seemed to be the only one who remembered.

“Well, Wendy,” John replied, throwing his own stub down and crushing it underfoot. “Seen the other two yet?”

“Alice is in detention,” she replied as she took a seat beside Thomas, fumbling in her pocket for her phone. “Threatened Ms. Hawkins with a chair today. She’ll be a while,”

“Fuck’s sake. Well, we’re going to the park at six, so text her and let her know to meet us there. I’m not waiting on her to come out again,”

“Who’s coming out? Is it Tommy?”

Jane appeared as if from nowhere, dropping into John’s lap and pressing her lips against his. Tommy’s ears started to go red as Wendy giggled to herself, but his comeback was lost to the wind; John and Jane remained glued to each other for the next five minutes, as they were every day after school. The conversation topic changed after they finally came up for air, with John informing her of their plans for this evening, and offering her a chance to get into the betting pool. Her refusal was accompanied by a demand to leave, to get ready, and they proceeded on the walk home, Jane and Wendy swapping gossip whilst John and Thomas weighed up the pros and cons of the boys who were to fight that night.

The group finally came together at five to six at the park, there to support their friend and also carry him off to the hospital if necessary. John and Jane had turned up first, the latter having commissioned the former’s leather jacket to protect her from the chill in the evening air. In all honesty, it wasn’t even that cold, considering how close to summer it was, but Jane’s own studded jacket had been ruined in an argument with a particularly snotty girl after the girl threw a smoothie on her and Jane socked her in the jaw. She hadn’t been able to get the stains out and had been borrowing her boyfriend’s jacket ever since, though John didn’t mind. He liked it when Jane wore his clothes, almost as much as he liked it when she wore nothing at all.

Thomas and Wendy showed up next, Tommy unable to get a word in edgeways as Wendy spoke of the boy she was sweet on, someone named Peter whom none of her friends knew. In all honesty, Thomas looked a little bored, shooting John and Jane a “help me” look as Wendy talked on, but neither of them did – John just slid his arm around Jane’s waist and smirked, making no effort to interrupt the conversation, and it carried on for several more minutes before Jane pointed out Alice drifting towards them. She looked terrible, as she always did these days – her recent diagnosis of insomnia was clearly affecting her, but that didn’t stop her from smiling brightly at all her friends as she spotted them and hurried her pace to catch up with them. The bags under her eyes were only emphasized by her copious amount of eyeliner, but she sounded as awake and alert as ever as she finally drew near.

“I haven’t missed anything, have I? Lorina tried to force me into a longer skirt before I left, I thought I was going to have to leap out the bathroom window again,”

“You haven’t missed anything,” Jane assured her as John passed a cigarette over to her, and they started towards the gathering crowd. Adam was already waiting at the centre of the crowd, his jacket dumped at his feet as he scanned the crowds, looking for his opponent. The crowd parted before the gang was they passed through, partly due to their reputation as being fucking insane, and partly due to their excitement over what was going to happen. Adam was on the wrestling team at the school, and hadn’t been nicknamed “the Beast” for nothing, but John also had a reputation for being a mad bastard when necessary, and everyone in the school knew about his skill with a gun. It was going to be a fun night. Neither of the boys said a word as John approached, and every eye in the crowd was on them. For a minute, there was silence – and then, as the town’s clock chimed six in the distance, Adam charged.

It was a bloodbath. Thomas shouted words of encouragement to John, whilst Jane and Wendy looked on in mild horror, hardly able to believe a broken nose could spout that much blood; Jane was yelling at the both of them, but what she said was incomprehensible and lost in the roar of the crowd. Alice had dropped onto the ground and currently sat cross legged, smoking something not quite legal as John’s fist crunched against Adam’s jaw – a second later, a tooth landed in front of her, though she hardly noticed it. The fight lasted only fifteen minutes, but it seemed like it went on for an eternity. Adam tackled John around the waist to finish it, after their trading of punches, sending them both crashing to the ground; unfortunately for John, Adam had him pinned, and the blows rained down, bone and cartilage crunching under the other boy’s fists. It was only when Jane herself stepped him and gripped Adam by the hair to get him off her boyfriend did it finally stop – Adam was declared the winner, but didn’t stick around long enough to revel in the glory. The others rushed towards where John rested, spitting out strings of saliva that painted the grass around him bright red. His nose was broken, and one of his eyes was swelling shut, not to mention the numerous bruises his face was covered with, but he struggled to his feet all the same, determined not to let it phase him. Jane repeatedly questioned him about whether or not he was alright, but he brushed her off as he began to stagger away, friends trailing after him.

“You know,” Alice mused as they traipsed after him, arms folded. “Some teenagers scare the living shit out of me,”