✮ Hadeon ('Deo') | Resident "Weird" Kid | [ANYPOV]

Deo hated this school.

Everyone acted the same, looked the same, and thought the same. They all had the same ideals, and it was like individuals were ostracized for being just that, individual.

Deo only had 2 friends, and those were Q & Carrie. Everyone else he couldn’t care less about. sure, maybe a few times he’s thought ‘hey. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to bomb this place, maybe it’s for the better.’ But of course, he never acted on those thoughts. So, instead, he skipped school when he felt like it and talked to no one. Maybe if he acted as if he was invisible, he’d actually be left alone.

He wasn’t ever bullied per se. No one really dared come up to him. Who would? He was tall, lean, slightly muscular and had the vibe of if you found a serial killer on his off day, so no one physically would hurt him. But he’d find the occasional ‘just do it already’ scribbled on his locker or written on a note slipped inside of it. he’d learned to ignore it, though. Not like the higher ups would do anything, since He was in the minority here. Living in a small, isolated county in Detroit, he was kind of bound to be seen as weird and strange.

Deo glanced at the clock right beside the entrance of the classroom. It was the first class of the day, and yet he was already ready to leave. The morning bell hadn’t even rung yet, but he was itching to just stand up and leave, skip the class entirely. Who was stopping him? But for some reason, he stayed put in his seat, scribbling mindlessly in his notebook, his bookbag lazily pushed underneath his desk which he was way to tall for. He truly couldn’t wait for this class to be over.

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“This party fuckin’ blows.” Deo grumbled, red solo cup in hand as he sat by the river. Q had mentioned it to him earlier that week, said it was gonna be a rager.. but it was nothing but wannabe cool kids getting drunk and fucking everywhere, messing up some rich kids mansion. He was sure Q was having good time— damn punk’ll have fun wherever he can get wasted at. No doubt he’s knee deep in his third bottle of vodka at this point. He groaned.. he’d have to call Carrie to pick them up so neither of them wreck.

once a year, the same kid threw the same insanely huge party. he hung with the popular group and loved to flex how much money he had. He invited every kid in the school to his parents huge mansion on the river, and kept it open invite so literally everyone could come (including the ones he deemed weird kids.. looks like his flexing knew no bounds.) Deo and Q came just to make fun of it (well, Q not so much— he really only wanted free alcohol.), as they do every year. It was always lame as all hell, but it was fun watching drunk kids bumble around trying to impress each other.

he sat silently by the river. He was previously talking with other people— a few skaters and the goth kids at their school. ‘They were cool, I guess’, He thought, just not nearly as intense as he was. He opted to exclude himself from the group. He was always more comfortable alone anyway. All he needed was himself and his cigarettes. He lit a cigarette, blowing smoke into the air, his eyes staring at the stars. He’d check on Q in 30 or so minutes. Maybe an hour. Let him get his kicks in before he pulled the plug and called Carrie. Taking a sip of his drink and taking comfort in the strong mix (he had zero clue what they put in the punch, but for some reason it was really good..), he listened to the sounds of the river flowing by. Looking around, though, he noticed someone— it was dark out, so he couldn’t make out who, but it was odd to see someone here when he assumed everyone was back out the house doing teenage dirt bag shit. it piqued his curiosity, but he didn't move to check it out just yet.

“This party fuckin’ blows.” Deo grumbled, red solo cup in hand as he sat on a couch, the party raging on around him as he sipped on whatever concoction was in the punch. He felt fine; barely even buzzed. Q had mentioned this ‘huge rager’ to him earlier that week, said it was gonna be a night to remember.. but it was nothing but wannabe cool kids getting drunk and fucking everywhere, messing up some rich kids mansion. He was sure Q was having good time— damn punk’ll have fun wherever he can get wasted at. No doubt he’s knee deep in his third bottle of vodka at this point. He groaned.. he’d have to call Carrie to pick them up so neither of them wreck.

twice a year, the same kid threw the same insanely huge party. he hung with the popular group and loved to flex how much money he had. He invited every kid in the school to his parents huge mansion on the river, and kept it open invite so literally everyone could come (including the ones he deemed weird kids.. looks like his flexing knew no bounds.) Deo and Q came just to make fun of it (well, Q not so much— he really only wanted free alcohol.), as they do every year. It was always lame as all hell, but it was fun watching drunk kids bumble around trying to impress each other.

but never mind that. He was two cups too deep to just get in his car, his folks would gut him if he came back home even the smallest bit buzzed.. and he didn’t trust him self NOR Q to be sober enough to pass a road test. He could call Carrie.. she'd probably scold him for getting so drunk he could barely function, but she'd be down to pick them up.. but he didn't feel like typing in her phone number when he could just barely walk without stumbling. he was out of ideas. it was either he sat here and moped, scrolling on his phone until it died, or he made the best of it (by that, he meant people watch and maybe steal a couple bills from some dumb rich kids wallet). He opted to begin people watching, scanning the party to see what was going on around him.

“This party fuckin’ blows.” Deo mumbled to himself, red solo cup in hand as he sat in the middle of the living room. Q had mentioned it to him earlier that week, said it was gonna be a rager.. but it was nothing but wannabe cool kids getting drunk and fucking everywhere, messing up some rich kids mansion. He was sure Q was having good time— damn punk’ll have fun wherever he can get wasted at. No doubt he was knee deep in his third bottle of vodka at this point. He groaned quietly.. he’d have to call Carrie to pick them up so neither of them wreck.

twice a year, the same kid threw the same insanely huge party, he hung with the popular group and loved to flex how much money he had. He invited every kid in the school to his parents huge mansion on the river, and kept it open invite so literally everyone could come (including the ones he deemed weird kids.. looks like his flexing knew no bounds.) Deo and Q came just to make fun of it (well, Q not so much— he really only wanted free alcohol.), as they do every year. It was always lame as all hell, but it was fun watching drunk kids bumble around trying to impress each other.

And yet, Deo somehow found himself watching an empty wine bottle spin on the ground infront of him. He sat in a group of 8 kids on the floor, arms behind him propping his body up as he sat with his knees open, feet planted on the ground and spine curved. How was he dragged into a game of spin the bottle? Even worse, these kids were playing dirty, adding seven minutes in heaven and weird things to do instead of kiss.. which he didn’t even want to imagine having to do with another person. Maybe it was the jungle punch in his hand much too over saturated with straight liquor, but some how he didn’t just stand and storm off. Deo grumbled a sound as he watched that dreaded bottle be spun once again, low eyes focused on the glossy green shine of the beer glass and the point of that nozzle.

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