Stupid Little Blue Haired Boy (boyxboy)

thirty five.

http://a2.ec-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/66/0ff1f61c52f156299d5c2de4c51b79cf/l.jpg

look at that, guys. that's where Timmy and Damian and Justin were first created.  isn't it beautiful? 

(i'll post it in the sidebar for those who don't have the ability to copy and paste)

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I fall asleep at the worst of times.

Three days later, I find myself being shaken awake by a fully dressed Teddy. "Wake up," he whispers, and silences my questions with a finger. "Find some pants and a sweatshirt."

"Are we sneaking out?" I finally ask upon climbing into the passenger seat of my brother's car. My fingers are clumsy as I try to buckle myself in, almost immediately reaching for the cigarettes tucked in the back pocket of my jeans. My smoking's gotten really bad lately; it seems like there's nothing else for me besides suck cancer into my lungs and think too much about death. Ever since Timmy, I haven't had something to keep myself preoccupied with.

"That'll be awful for him to kiss. You probably taste like straight up tar at this point. And no, we're not sneaking out, but mom went back to sleep. I've got chauffeur duty, remember?"

As much as he denies it, Teddy is far too sneaky in pulling out of the driveway. Something tells me he's done this before.

"Where are we going?" The only light in the car comes from the dashboard, and it's as bright as the sun to my sleepy eyes.

He shakes his head. "Go back to sleep. I'll wake you when we get there."

Ignoring his advice, I stare out the window. From the car, I can make out at least half a dozen constellations, just groups of stars we were so desperate to categorize. Humans are always putting things in groups because it gives them comfort to know everything has a place. If everything has somewhere to be put back to, then everything belongs, right?

"You think too much. Even when you can't even talk straight, you're always thinking. What about? Don't you run out of things eventually?"

No, actually. There's an infinite number of things to think about. And even if you ran out, there's all the things from before to be pondered from a different perspective.

"Most people would just answer, "things." You think I really care enough for such an explicit answer?"

One day you might. One day you might stop being such a dick.

"One day you'll stop smoking those cancer sticks."

I take a long drag to spite the voice. I make sure to show him how much I enjoy it.

Teddy rolls down the window and sighs. It's cold outside, but the smoke is blocking his view. If I wasn't half conscious, I might feel bad about stinking up his car. But mom and dad won't give him trouble for the smell of cigarettes like they used to for weed.

"You're dead silent, did you fall asleep?" He taps my shoulder gently. "Do you need me to take that before you burn yourself?"

I shake my head.

"I think you'd have figured out where we were headed by now."

"Why in the middle of the night?" My voice comes out scratchy and rough.

"Don't get your hopes up, but Timmy's had a spike in brain activity. Mrs. McKinnon thought you ought to know."

I feel my mind do the exact action Teddy warned me against. "Hurry the fuck up."