You know what? Junk-V was probably banned and can't come back but I'm going to do two things anyway because I'm feeling crazy right now. First, I'm going to respond to it. Second, I'm going to do something I promised myself that I wouldn't do. Junk-V, I actually hate myself when I give reviews of pure praise. It isn't that the thing I'm responded to is perfect. Nothing is perfect. It's because I know I'm either I'm too groggy or not capable enough to either notice the flaws or because I can't be coherent enough about what I did notice, so I decide to ignore the flaws. In some rare cases, my feelings are the only issue in the matter and in that case, I simply don't respond if it was something I thought was good but wasn't to my tastes. In some instances, something is amazing but it doesn't grab me enough to comment at the time and then I never do or I just really can't express my enjoyment coherently enough to leave praise. So when I respond with constructive criticism, I become PASSIONATE about it and yes, I get long-winded because that's what happens when I have a very deep, tender feeling about something. I am responding to Kathy-chan's work because it was strong enough to create passion in my heart. That, in and of itself, is merit. My words aren't all praise but then they're not necessarily full of venom either. I also had the strong urge to write the SAME DAMN THING when I saw this. To write it how I would have written it. I resisted the urge because I didn't think there would be much point in that. But now I'm going to sit here and write what could be called a letter of love to the author because all of these responses have inspired me to do it. SIT YOUR FUCKING ASSES DOWN AND READ MY SHIT, BITCHES. IT WILL SUCK BUT I DON'T CARE. A Parallel Line The incessant beeping crept into the young man's brain through his ears, leaving the bright morning sun yearning and envious as it was held back from his eyes by the firm, steely grasp of the window blinds. Scout sighed as he blearily forced an eye open and gently pressed the button on top of his alarm clock, which silenced it by satisfying its burning desire to grab his attention. He understood that quite well, being the youngest out of seven. Too bad he wasn't a little kid anymore; someone his mother HAD to pay attention to. He groggily reflected that growing up wasn't all bad, as he shrugged on his favorite red t-shirt and blue jeans. He was almost out of high school, though this last year had been the most tedious and agonizing to get over when the end was so close! It was only because of his best friend Dell, utter nerd but a blast to hang out with as far as nerds went, that he had kept from dropping out from sheer boredom. That and he was almost certain his PE teacher, the former drill sergeant fittingly dubbed Soldier by all his students, would have hunted him down and killed him for leaving the track team hanging. The guy had coaxed him into taking PE the entire time he was in school (not that Scout needed much convincing, since it was his favorite class.) Scout was certain he was in cahoots with his mom, since the old man kept badgering him about how he was too scrawny and needed to stop skipping meals. “SCOUT! Get ya butt down here or ya oatmeal is gonna get cold!†his mom yelled up the stairs. “I'm comin'! I'm comin'!†He took the stairs two at a time, his worn-out duffle bag slapping against his back as he did, and skid to a halt as he almost ran into one of his older brothers. His family had a tendency to eat like a pack of wolves, his mother included, so it was no surprise to him that none of them really noticed when all he ate was the bowl of hot oatmeal and strawberries. Greasy stuff like bacon and eggs made him queasy early in the mornin' but luckily anything left was fought over, so Scout never had to worry about it getting wasted. “Salut, mon ami! You are looking well this morning, Scout.†Scout glared over the rim of his glass of orange juice at the only other person at the table with some self-restraint and hated the man all the more for the fact they shared a common trait. His step-father, who was dressed in the ugliest reddish brown pinstripe business suit that Scout had ever seen, was casually eating a bowl of frosted flakes and banana slices. Scout was the only one who bothered giving the guy a hard time. The triplets liked the idea of having a father figure to play Bridge with and ask for advice. George and Terry were too busy worrying about staying out of jail for selling hard drugs and illegal arms on the street corner. Clancy and Duke were actively trying to get arrested by robbing banks because they had some hair-brained scheme to break their REAL father out of jail and get mom remarried to him. Their mother was too busy trying to get them married off to good women or turn their lives around to notice how Scout felt, unless he was being openly rebellious. Scout couldn't help it though. He hated his real dad for being such a dumb piece of shit and getting caught by the cops. He admired his dad for being such a hardcore badass motherfucker, who had rival gang members quaking in fear. Yet some part of Scout hoped that Clancy and Duke would succeed and that their dad would show up to make this tooty-fruity pencil-pusher cry like the wimpy little shit that he was. Deep down Scout just wanted to have someone he could make proud; someone he could look up to. Dad hadn't always been there for him but he was still Scout's father. “SCOUT! Stop daydreamin' or you're goin' ta be LATE again!†his mother snapped. Scout stopped trying to bore his eyes through the back of his step-father's skull, as the man stood up to rinse the dishes already emptied. He gave his mother an apologetic smile and a thumbs up as he scooted out of his chair. “Don't worry, Ma! I'm the fastest thing around.†His mother rolled her eyes but grabbed his arm as he shot past her on his way out the door. He stumbled and then rolled his own eyes as she pointed at her cheek. “Give ya motha' a kiss, baby!†she insisted. Like the dutiful and loving son that he was, he gladly complied, but took off like a bat out of hell the minute she let go of him. His sour mood began to soar as he felt the wind rush past his face and the blood pumping in his veins, his heart pounding with adrenaline as he took the block between him and his high school by storm. People stopped and stared but he ignored them as he pushed himself to the limit, until Scout was gasping for breath and had to walk the rest of the way, slowly coming down from his brief high. The first bell rang as he entered through the side door. In the hall he found a familiar hulking figure waiting, brow knit together with worry as the big guy peered one way, then the other, and finally caught sight of him. The guy's features immediately brightened as he made his way over, laughing loudly and clapping Scout on the back affectionately as Scout stood there, bent over and clutching his knees as he continued gulping in huge breaths of air through his nose. “Ahh, Scout! I was worried for minute. Should not be. You are always late.†Scout grinned and took a quick glance to check that they were alone before winking. “Couldn't miss... a day without you,†Scout said. He straightened up just as the big guy leaned in, grabbing his narrow chin in one massive hand before crushing their lips together in a rough, fierce kiss. Scout tried to jerk away, afraid someone might see and also not really in the mood to make out. “'EY! Fuck! How many times I gotta tell ya not to get all grabby before class?†Scout whispered as loudly as he dared. He smacked away Heavy's hand as Heavy tried to do it again and glared hard, until Heavy chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck with embarrassment. The guy's name wasn't really Heavy, of course, but everyone called him that because of his massive size and unsubtle nature (not to mention his real name was a bitch to pronounce.) He could have been a quarterback but Heavy, in spite of his love for teamwork and camaraderie, wasn't the most coordinated guy in the world. That coupled with his sheer size meant the other kids tried to avoid him in the halls for fear of unintentional bruises, from being knocked into open lockers or onto the floor. It was therefore perfectly acceptable for Heavy to wait until everyone else was mostly in class before walking towards his own, instead of squeezing through the crowd of students every day. Luckily Heavy also hid the kind of smarts no one would've guessed could lurk in the depths of someone so brutish looking. The guy was in the chess club and a prominent supporter of Dungeons and Dragons. Scout normally never would have met the surprisingly nerdy Russian exchange student, who had most of the same classes at different hours from Scout, if not for Dell taking Orchestra with the guy while Scout was in PE. Dell had introduced them during lunch one day and seemed to regret it now, though Scout didn't know why. Maybe Heavy got on his nerves more than Dell was willing to admit, being the exceedingly polite southern-born gentleman that he was. Heavy sighed and broke the stare between them reluctantly as they parted ways. It left Scout puzzled and more thoughtful than usual the rest of the day. Scout had never bothered to classify what they had but it was definitely more than just friends. Scout had been the one to start the whole thing, being a horny little pervert with a desperate need for someone to pay attention to him and only him. Heavy had been uncertain at first, after the random kiss Scout had given him, but quickly became the more openly and consistently affectionate between them. Maybe a worse pervert, if there was any way to gauge such a thing. All Scout knew was that he'd decided to take a chance on the walk home from their last study group at the library, after they'd parted ways with everyone else, and it had paid off in spades. Maybe too well. Scout was kind of nervous about how much he was enjoying it. Was that normal? He hadn't intended for it to become anything but as soon as Heavy got it into his head that Scout was interested, he— CRACK! Scout jumped visibly as a ruler came crashing down onto the desk in front of him, knocking his pencil to the floor with the force of the blow. He turned to see Mr. Mundy walk past him with that damn smirk he always had after catching someone who wasn't paying attention to the chalkboard covered in algebra equations. Scout wished he could punch the guy but as long as Mr. Mundy didn't lay a hand on him, there wasn't any excuse. “Scout, ya mind coming up here and solving this one?†Mr. Mundy asked. Scout groaned. Of course he minded, he hadn't been paying any attention and didn't know how to do it, but he couldn't say that. Instead, he grumbled under his breath as his chair screeched back. He walked to the front with his eyes on his feet, before grabbing a piece of chalk and silently begging it to save him as he tapped it onto the chalkboard, pointing it at one of the equations with a hopeful cheekiness. “This one?†Scout asked. “That one's already solved,†Mr. Mundy answered with a sneer, “But since you need the help... this 'ould be the one.†The rest of the class was snickering as quietly as they could and Scout glared at them before scowling at Mr. Mundy, who had used the ruler to point at the only equation left unsolved on the board. The next several minutes were painful as Scout stared despondently at the numbers and symbols in front of him and Mr. Mundy eventually walked him through the process. It was the longest insinuation of stupidity Scout had dealt with in his life and it was all directed at him. Thank GOD it was the last class of the day! Dell was still waiting at the door for him, after Mr. Mundy was done chewing him out for never paying attention and turning his homework in unfinished, and Scout followed him out into the hall with his head hung in shame and resentment. “Ya know, I tried to get yer attention before he came over but you were out in space somewhere,†Dell said, “What's eatin' at ya? Is it yer family again?†Scout shook his head and Dell gave him a brief, one armed hug that made a smile creep across Scout's face in spite of Scout's insistence on being petulant and moody about it. He hugged Dell back, equally as brief, and shrugged awkwardly. Dell was his best friend but he wasn't sure he could tell him. The guy was surprisingly manly, with a minor love of sports, no matter his inclination for tinkering with weird electronic shit that lead him to create the winning science fair projects year after year. He also had a jaw big enough to stop a water buffalo in its tracks and, though he was several inches shorter, a breadth to his shoulders and limbs that made Scout secretly a little jealous. What was it with all these guys who had brains AND brawn? Scout wondered if it was the flannel shirts, ala Heavy, or the wild cowboy hat, ala Dell, that gave it to them. Or maybe it was the way they shaved their hair off. Scout was too vain to shave of all of his. Maybe just shaving off the sides, around his ears and in the back, would be enough to improve his intelligence and muscle mass? “Scout... I know you have it rough, with them bein' degenerates and all,†Dell began. “'EY! My family ain't degenerates!†Scout snapped. Dell had the sense to look embarrassed and held up his hands appeasingly. “I didn't mean nothin' by it! But Scout, I... yer mah—mah best friend. I don't want to see you in trouble like yer pa or yer brothers. If you need me, I'm here for ya,†Dell said. Scout looked down at the hand Dell had placed on his shoulder, as Dell looked up at him with complete honesty and concern, and then down at his own feet. He felt worse because that wasn't the reason at all, or well, he didn't THINK it was. Now he really didn't know what to say. “He has many friends,†a deep voice cut in. Scout felt another strong hand on his other shoulder and this time looked directly up into Heavy's blue eyes. Heavy was giving Dell a surprisingly stern glance and Dell was returning the strength of it in equal measures. Now Scout just felt weird because he had no idea why they were fighting over this but it was kind of obvious that they were. Did Dell feel like Scout was ignoring him because Scout wanted to be alone with Heavy sometimes? Shit, he didn't mean to make his best friend feel unwanted! He just... didn't feel comfortable bein' flirty and naughty, with a guy of all people, right in front of him. What if Dell thought he was a freak? “Knock it off, fellas,†Scout muttered. He patted both their hands before shoving them off. He thought might get their attention but had to snap his fingers when they continued to stare at one another without saying anything. “YO'! I'm still here! I just got a lot on my mind, okay? Like, what to do after school ends,†he added. It was a lame lie but it was sort of true. Summer was around the corner and with it graduation. He still had no idea what he wanted to do with his life. Dell finally looked at Scout and nodded, accepting it. “You should be careful then, partner,†Dell said, “Mr. Mundy ain't got no problems failin' ya if ya drop the ball on the final exam and yer gettin' sloppy in history ta boot! Miss Pauling ain't playin' with ya. And no matter how drunk he is, Mr. DeGroot ain't either.†Scout snorted and waved it off. Especially since everybody thought Mr. DeGroot's english class was a joke. A really hilarious joke filled with several hours of really inappropriate movies and Mr. DeGroot's drunken rants. Then there were the days when Mr. DeGroot showed up sober and it was as boring as Miss Pauling teaching history. “Ah, no sweat. We'll just study for the exams and it'll be a breeze.†“I hope so,†Dell murmured, “Well, I oughta get home now. You folks have fun.†Scout considered asking him to come with them but Heavy draped one massive arm over his shoulders and waved as he hummed that little tune he was so fond of. Scout decided to let it go and began to snort with fighting back a laugh as he remembered something from earlier that day. He motioned for Heavy to lean in and whispered in his ear as he fought to control himself. “'Ey, I almost forgot. Guess what I saw today in PE!†“Oh, I am no good with guessing. It was funny, da?†Scout nodded and began to chuckle openly. “Oh man! He'd kill me if he knew I saw! Ya know Mr. Doe, right? He's the PE teacher. Anyway, I caught 'im in his office with Mr. DeGroot but luckily they didn't see me!†Heavy's eyebrows arched upward and he blinked. “The one who has no business teaching English? I could do better job.†Scout nodded again, grinning from ear to ear now. “Hahaha! YEAH! They were drinkin', and I saw the bottle, so they were DRINKIN' if ya catch my drift.†“I am to catch drift?†Heavy asked. His features were screwed up in an odd mixture of confusion and sadness. Scout sighed and patted Heavy's back encouragingly. “I mean it was whiskey or somethin'. And I swear, no lie, I think they were makin' out! I guess old Soldier got drunk too. I didn't stick around so I wouldn't get caught and I didn't get the best look but they were really close and... I think they were goin' at it.†Heavy snorted but he seemed amused as well now. He also squeezed Scout closer to his side as he mulled this information over. Scout couldn't say he minded it. He'd had a very unfortunate and confusing chubby from that sight and it was great that he could share the humor with someone else. “You know, some day, I would be willing to go past this... this making out, as you call it,†Heavy admitted. Scout froze at that and squinted up at Heavy nervously. “Yeah, no dice! I mean, I'm still thinkin' about it but this stuff ain't goin' nowhere 'til one of us has a place of our own,†Scout said. “Or perhaps car. I have heard car is acceptable,†Heavy said. Scout shivered and shook his head obstinately. “NO! No cars. People can see in the windows! And I ain't gay! We ain't gay. Come on, I say shit but I'm all words and no action. On dis anyway. It's kind of weird,†Scout admitted. Scout wasn't sure why but sometimes he scared himself. This was definitely one of those times. He wished it was all as simple as watching Mr. DeGroot leaning over Mr. Doe as Mr. Doe leaned back in his chair and hugged him. They made it look so easy and natural for those five minutes that Scout had peeped into the window before realizing he needed to run back into the gym locker room, tear off his gym clothes (a white t-short and shorts), and put his regular clothes back on. Heavy nodded and for a moment looked as lost and nervous as Scout himself. “I am not trying to push you. I am... I don't know myself. This is all new to me. I would never have... never have kissed boy if I had not felt—felt, ah. This is trouble with English. I could say to you what I mean in better words if it were Russian, I promise,†Heavy muttered. Scout smirked. “You wouldn't even talk to me for a week after I did that. I thought you hated me at first. I was just glad you didn't TELL everyone,†Scout said. Heavy squeezed Scout's shoulder and shook his head. He'd already apologized for that before but Scout had to bring it up. “It was difficult. I knew this was strange, even for American,†Heavy said. Then he smiled, to brighten up the mood maybe. He tried to tickle Scout and Scout writhed, laughing. Heavy laughed as well and his expression turned suggestive. “I know how to raise spirits! We should go to my house again. I am thinking perhaps we should not be thinking. Kissing is good distraction,†Heavy said, “Mother is visiting Aunt and Father is at work.†Scout squirmed out of Heavy's grip and punched Heavy's arm with the kind of playful harshness that showed he didn't mean it but that he did have a point to make. Then he laughed again. “Bullshit! I ain't helpin' you babysit ya little sisters again!†“Why not?†Heavy mused, “They like you very much!â€