✍️ from babby cricket wondering if dee is single uwu
Nonverbal RP Starters // @dusterangel
The first mistake of Junior year had been walking into his Trigonometry class ten minutes late and being forced to accept the fate that is the only available seat in the entire classroom being beside infamously dubbed Matthew ‘Rickety Cricket’ Mara.Although this was an utter first-world tragedy for Dennis Reynolds, to be stuck beside St. Joe’s first-and-only budding Robert Smith wannabe for the rest of the school year, it was certainly an act of saving-grace for Nosferatu here.
Most would give an arm, maybe an eye too, to be blessed with the salvation of Dennis’ presence. He was popular,fashionable, handsome and rich, and his mom let him get dermal-filler injections in his lips this summer; which was totally wicked,because name another sixteen year old who’s had the privilege.
That’s right. Think long and hard on that one.
But, for fucks sake, why couldn’t he have gotten stuck with Kimberly Jones as his god damn ‘study-buddy’. She’d lean over her desk, all ditsy and stupid with her cotton-candy pink shell bra just barely containing her behemoth breasts and ask him what the square root of four was.And that’s when they’d really get it on, eventually their classroom child’s play would end with a ‘private tutoring session’ and lots of banging. Most importantly, Maureen didn’t have to know.
Shit, he’s practically half-chub in the middle of class just thinking about it, his pencil leaving stray marks of dusty graphite along the page when his thumb grows a little weaker at each chance glance he steals in Kimberly’s direction.
Dennis is just about to excuse himself to the bathroom when a crumbled ball of paper lands in his lap ( dear god why his fucking lap ) . Curiously, he reaches for it and unravels the note. His expression drops after reading the crudely written ‘is your sister single?’ and he turns to glare at Cricket with a look that could turn waves.
In retrospect, the prospect of some Goth bastard with leg braces dating his sister, who for the record, also painted her half-chewed fingernails ( albeit poorly ) tar-black and wore a back brace, was rich with comedic enterprise. They’d be like Frankenstein and his Bride with a hint of tin-man. Dennis almost giggles at the image of them both walking down the hall hand-in-hand with resemblance to two love-struck human-sized tin-foil figures.
But also, this was HIS sister they were talking about and he’d be damned before he allowed her to date outside of his chosen selects.He frowns, the pink tip of his tongue poking out from between glossy lips as he scribbles away; despite the fury burning behind baby blues, his script remains as loopy and girly as ever.
‘Stop asking about my sister, you fucking creep! I swear to god, if I see you so much as look at her I’ll kill you! And I’ll keep your bisected head on my mantle piece!’
Satisfied, he leans over, placing the note atop the other boy’s desk with a sly smirk.