this is way overdue but i forbid myself to write anymore fics until i finish pyp and iol. which prolly is never going to happen but rip. ALSO the plot has changed quite a bit with recent spoilers. so there's that.

You meet him on a subway. His head shoots up at the mere sight of you, a slight smile playing at the edge of his lips as he begins to listen to your meaningless words that will most certainly have no affect on him (you're wrong). The glint in your eye is much too bright as you start to play a game with him, a game you later learn that has no end, and will go on forever.

At least you hope so.

You're doing this for your best friend, you remember. To teach her to reach out of her comfort zone, but you're mind is completely taken from it's own as you enter a seven second relationship with the subway boy you met only two seconds prior. You like it.

And you think you like him.

But you shove the feeling down deep into the base of your stomach where you hope it will only be forgotten forever as you walk away from him with a sway in your step, smiling as your best friend talks nonsense and shoving her towards the boy you had unintentionally grown quite an affection towards. But you think you'll forget about it, you'll never see him again, you think.

You think.

/

You learn to make fun of him. It's a natural reaction, it's a natural occurrence at some point. It feels good to make fun of someone, but doesn't feel so good when he recuperates with the same amount of force. But it's fun, you think. It's like a game, naturally, and you think you're winning. (You're wrong.)

He starts to pick up on your little quips, he knows what to say back to get you riled up—you tend to think that annoys you.

(You know you're lying to yourself.)

(And you know you enjoy it.)

You get most certainly, definitely, absolutely, completely annoyed with the way he reflects what you say. You feel the small shivers down your spine as he shakes your finger in such a way, not menacing but more so to annoy you. He's always annoying you, it seems. And he calls you ma'am, once you think. But the amount of time he slips it into conversation messes up in your head and you think twice, thrice.

You remember the feeling of Farkle touching your skin softly and you remember looking up, expecting to see the tender face of your best friend, only to see Mister Huckleberry's face with a rose in his hand and your eyebrows furrow and your frown hardens. You roll your eyes.

He isn't playing this right.

/

Heat radiates from your cheeks as your mother introduces herself to the whole seventh grade student body of your class, your head falls in your hands in an embarrassed manner as she completely and totally embarrasses you. Not in a good way, in a way you want to crawl in a hole and starve type of way.

And you can feel his eyes glued to the back of your head and all you really want to do is smack him because this isn't his place, nor it will ever be.

But your face falls into a state of relief as Farkle makes an unknown jab towards your home life, he doesn't know, so you don't really blame him. But it hurts knowing that your friends could be unaware, and could—of course, accidentally—offend you. But he understands, you think, as he grabs the face of one of your best friend's and Farkle finally understands.

You want to thank him, but you don't. You really don't.

/

You remember calling him Bucky McBoingBoing. (You think Boing means hot, but you don't remember.)

/

You're at his house and your ass is propped up on his kitchen counter with no care in the world (you're only trying to piss him off) and he's yelling at you as you stick your finger in the muffin batter. (Wash your hands, Maya! Get your ass off the counter, Maya! Stop doing this, Maya! Maya, Maya, Maya!) You think you get annoyed easily.

You meet his mom, a sweet lady who's much too nice for your liking but you take a liking to her anyway. She kind of reminds you of Riley, and that's when the idea is ingrained into your mind. (Where Riley and Lucas could really, truly, be related of course, but you think you ought to shove that done for another day.) You go through the old baby albums of his and you laugh as you see his face flustered and annoyed.

You take pride out of that.

People throw a muffin at your head. You try to sell muffins together. Granted, you fail. You think it's because of his Cornucopian Dreams of saving the world one muffin at a time, you express this to him and he laughs.

Your face is close to his in an instant, and you tell yourself that it will never happen again. But it does as he asks Riley (the girl he likes) if he can have a job with her. It happens again without a thought, and you walk away briskly, a smile on your face as he says only once, "Yeah, I had that coming."

So you follow the girl he likes, the two that are destined for the stars.

(Or so you believe.)

(Because you start to believe that there's absolutely no chance with you and him, and you don't think you deserve him.) (He doesn't deserve you.)

/

You're set forth on wanting to beat the shit out of Farkle until he comes up to you, his hand in front of his body as he tells you he's taking you out. Your heart leaps, only for a moment or two, until you realize that he's with Riley and that he will never, most certainly ever go out with someone like you. So you tell it to him straight, telling him what it will be and what it will always be.

"You're not my type."

He laughs and shakes his head, and you knowknowknow that you will never be his type. So you shove your despair down and save it for another day. So he tells you he's taking you out of the game. But you're still you, so you stomp and whine until your finally conform and give him the damned ball.

That damned stupid ball. (You can't believe you're blaming your him problems on a baseball, but you give what you get, you think. You don't understand the saying, anyway.)

You're scared for only a moment until you open the window of your apartment, staring at him as if you've never seen anything before and you smile, because he is such a big ass Huckleberry.

(You look at his ass one time to confirm.)

/

You remember the feeling of your stomach dropping as you hear that one of your best friends isn't showing up at school anymore. You and him search the library for that little Farkle of yours, you check absolutely everywhere. Under the counters, between books in the bookshelf until the librarian finally yells at you.

The words slip out of your mouth before you even mean it and you're already attempting to stomp out of the door of the janitors closet until his hands clasp around your arms, as if it's an everyday occurrence. He picks you up without a struggle, and you feel yourself attempting not to display the smile that's threatening to show on your face. He sets you back down and you refuse, absolutely refuse, to laugh.

He is not going to win this game, even if he gets you all flustered.

Even though he once tells you that violence isn't the answer, you see the way his eyes widen and the way he pins Billy to the wall. Your heart leaps for a second, because you never knew that he had this side. But you know what to do as your best friend is quaking in her own very boots at seeing her supposed to be lover pinning someone against the wall.

So you hop on his back, telling him and soothing him softly. You start to think that he listens to you, as his hand gradually find his way to your knees to keep you upright and your grip is strong and it's holding. You can feel his warmth and your heart is going a mile a minute, certainly, and then he says, "Can you get off my back?" so you hop down and stand next to his lover.

(His supposed to be, his always.)

You watch him as he goes up to your fill in father, looking back slightly only to see the world "Perfect" scrawled tenderly across his forehead.

/

You don't really think much of it. It's more of a natural reaction you had grown fond to, and your best friend's uncle is a nice piece of eye candy, you think. He's caring, sweet, attractive and all you could really ask for. (You're in denial.)

You can see the grimace on his face as he turns to look at you and your best friend's uncle. But you ignore it and turn you attention back towards Josh, reminding yourself that Riley is his his his his his his. (You have to say it over and over again to even believe yourself, it's like a never ending mantra.)

(You never really believe it.)

His words are soft and he says it over and over again, silently begging as he sees you and the uncle. "I want to go home."

"I want to go home."

"I want to go home."

But he stays.

/

He takes your best friend on a date (and Riley is his his his his his his). You know that you have to push the two apparent love birds together, so you ask him out. Your hands shake slightly to your side, but you think you play cool as his confused look fills up the room. (Hey, Other One, he tells you.)

Your attempt is successful and you tag along with the shaggy haired best friend, but nothing feels right. Everything should be switched, you think. But it's not, and perhaps in another universe it is. But here, you're not with him and he's not with you and he's with your best friend (and Riley is his his his his his his).

You see the uncle you had grown so fond of with another girl, you can feel your heart plummet to your stomach. So you sit next to him, and you fake a smile as you try to collect yourself. He'll always be in your dungeon of sadness, you think.

You think you'll always have a dungeon of sadness.

/

You see the way your best friend reacts to the fact that Lucas isn't who she thought who he was. You see the way her eyes darken and she's angry (for what, you want to ask, but you don't) at something or anything.

But you don't see him any different. All you see is some stupid Huckleberry who made a few mistakes during his elementary career. Sure, people could look at some stupid Huckleberry different but he hasn't done anything wrong. He's just stupid, stupid Huckleberry.

"I'm Ranger Rick!"

You say you finally like him. (Long overdue.)

/

Your heart swells with some new kind of anger that you didn't know you had. You're angry at your best friend (thought you know you should be angry at him) and you're angry, you're angry, you're angry angry angry and God, you don't know why. So you point a finger at him and he backs up slightly, surprised with your sudden anger and fierceness.

Your hand lies softly on your funny friends chest, tightly tugging his shirt until he grabs your hand and directs it towards his. You shiver, for only a moment or two, before you get over it and stare at him menacingly. Your grip tightens.

"You want to tangle with me?"

"Not yet."

But you go back to your seat anyway, refusing to put your elbow on his desk. Because you're pissed at him, you're pissed at her (and for more than one reason), you're pissed at your fill in father, for god knows what, you're pissed at yourself. You're pissed at the world for fucking you over a numerous amount of times.

So you fake your smile and call him his familiar nicknames while he does his familiar smirk that you had missed, and you feel your stomach grow with warmth. You missed this, and you think you started to miss him.

Why do you let her?

He doesn't answer.

/

You set out to get detention (you don't know if it's on purpose, really, but you shut up for once) and he's in the middle, having to choose between you and his star crossed lover. (Because Riley is his his his his his his and he'll never pick you.) (You're wrong.) (You hate being wrong.) So he chooses you, running out the door like some crazed maniac, because he's acting like one.

I'm just like you now, he tells you.

You really have no utter idea what you're doing as you slather paint on everyone's faces. And you know that you'll mess up, so you ask him for help. He obliges and slowly, but surely, swipes the paint down your nose all the way to the edge of your lips. Your breath hitches, you think. And so does his. Because he shakes out of it quickly and shakes his head, turning away and giving you back the paint bottle.

So you grab his shirt, bring his body close to yours. His body is flushed up and his eyes are widened, but his shoulders slack as he gets back to your familiar game. He's warm, and you want to stay there forever and ever and ever. And you're an inch, only an inch away from being able to kiss him

But you don't, because he likes your best friend and you love your best friend and you both like your best friend and so you don't.

But you see the way he looks back at you as you sit in your desk solemnly, and you sigh. All you do is sigh sigh sigh sigh sigh.

/

You've always known his name.

/

You laugh to yourself and bite your lip tenderly as you get close to his face once more, even though you promised that you wouldn't. Something's so enjoyable with the way he retorts back and you don't know why but you like it. (You like him.) Your head shoots up from curiosity as someone says you and him were voted favorite couple. Because you don't understand, you don't because you thought thought thought that it would always be Riley and Lucas and Lucas and Riley, the two star crossed lovers of the grade.

And things can't change now.

And you'll kill him if he hurts her. You will, you will.

But he does so, anyway, as your best friend changes. She's upset and she doesn't know why, because you think she's finally starting to realize that things were never really Riley and Lucas, that it was never really Riley telling the story of her and the boy she liked (but it was you). She changes her room, she changes her clothes, her hair, her talk.

So you change with her to get her back, and you learn that no one ever really liked you. It was all Riley, only Riley and it will forever be. But now he's pissed at your for changing. You notice that he's not really mad at Riley, but more so mad at your for changing. But you've got her, so you ignore him. You ignore and ignore and ignore.

And then it pops up, what you had shoved down for another day back in seventh grade while making muffins. It pops up and you regret it, you regret ever living. And shit, this is bad and bad and bad.

/

But you dance with him anyway, feeling your dress swoosh around your ankles tenderly as you talk with him, a smile plastered on your face as you tell him "You're still dancing with me." He stutters, and you laugh. He laughs, you all laugh.

Everything suddenly feels right in the world.

/

Your hands shake in your lap as you get told that your art class, the one thing that you thought was always and forever going to be there for you, was being removed, canceled, whatever the fuck you want to call it. Because it's the one thing you thought you deserved, you knew you deserved. (You were wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong.)

So you sit down in your seat and you sigh, just painting and painting because that's all you can do. No one ever listens to a short girl with a broken home and a pathetic excuse for a life. No one ever really does.

But your attention is set forth on him, your body turned intently as he tells you that your art matters. That you're good at what you do. That you deserve happiness. That you always deserve happiness, and he wants wants wants you to be happy. (Your heart is speeding more than you have ever known.) And you see the small smile on his face and his eyes light up with some type of mirth you had never seen on him before.

And all you do is stare.

You're unaware that Zay is cracking up and you're unaware of Riley's confused expression because something had just happened here. Something important had just happened, and God you'd like to know. And for once, you're not making fun of him.

You find out he called you beautiful once upon a dream, and you're confused. What does this mean, you ask yourself. Because he says he wants you to be happy, and he's called you beautiful and Riley's confused and so are you and so is he and something's emerging and something's happening.

No more no more no more.

But he listens to you sing and calls you Miss Hart, and you know that nothing is right. Not anymore, at least.

/

So he grabs your waist as you go to attack his best friend. You feel his warm touch against yours and you don't understand, because something unfamiliar erupts inside of you. And you can't pinpoint the exact moment, but you know that you like him. More than friends type of way, but you shut your own self up.

Because it was nothing, but your head whips around anyway in a confused manner but you turn back around with the way he's smirking and you shake your head. (You think you understand what it means now as you touch hands with Farkle and you don't feel the same way as you did the day prior.)

He's confusing you and you're confusing him and yourself and Riley and he's confusing Riley and Riley's confusing you and him. God, this is too much.

/

He contains you, and he asks if you you're okay. (No, you want to say. So many things aren't right.) I'm fine.

And you admit it, out loud at least, that you're attracted to him when he's angry. Because he's hot, he is and he is and something digs deep down as you tell him to pick up the bed.

/

He picks up on the fact that you're anxious and that you're worried and he takes action almost immediately, leaning his body into yours as he takes his hand and almost automatically clasps it over your eyes. Your mouth hangs agape and his head hides tenderly behind your hair.

And you're so grateful that you have him.

/

He takes you to Texas. He takes you to Texas and he rides a bull named Tombstone and you think he's going to die (well, you know) and you refuse to watch that stupid Huckleberry doing stupid things so you rush away from him, because he won't listen to you and he's such a stupid Huckleberry.

But he's okay. But you refuse to talk to him. Not ever, you would keep your promise. Keep your promise, you tell yourself over and over and over again until you're breaking it on his porch. You almost tell him that you care about him, but you hold it back because he doesn't deserve to know. He doesn't.

But he holds your face in his hands as you're angry at him. You try and try and try to push him away but he grabs your face anyway and your breath is sucked out of your lungs. His hands are cupped around your face and his eyes are soft and his breath is warm and you can feel his thumbs stroking your cheeks.

His head leans down, only slightly of course, until he closes his eyes. And he realizes what he's doing. And he's got to stop. He's got to stop and stop and stop. Please tell him to stop. So he pulls away from your face and you're disappointed, because he didn't kiss you and he should have and he didn't. But you sit down next to him anyway, still feeling the warmth of his hands on your face.

(You try to go on a date with him, but it's going way too fast.)

(Someone stop me, you beg.)

/

Your heart shatters in your chest as you're assigned to forgive your father. You feel his soft hand touch your shoulder in a light sort of way, only to tell you that he's there. And he'll always be. He reassures you and you think you listen.

He's got a pull on you and you didn't even know.

So you go to his house in the dead of night and you walk up to his bed with tears in your eyes and a stuffed nose and he accepts you in his arms graciously as you fall into an unsteady rhythm of sobs. But even though you refuse to forgive your dad, and nothing is right, the way he holds you and tenderly strokes your hair feels so right.

/

You look and listen to him for nearly the first time ever (you're lying) and he talks to you. He's not pushing you, like Riley was. Because he understands that you refuse to be pushed. He gets that, so instead he talks. And he tells you what it's like and what it will be like and when it's okay and you don't have to do it.

But you do, anyway. In a private and quiet place, and you pray. You don't pray about yourself, but you pray about Farkle. And your best friend, and him. Only for a moment or two because you have to realize, that it will never happen. Never not really.

/

But you spend the New Years Eve with him, anyway. He holds your hand tenderly and laughs at your jokes and his eyes are bright and never wavering from yours. Your heart leaps and everything is right (not really) and he holds your face like he did on that one night by the campfire and he kisses you, with his lips and his heart and everything yet nothing.

And everything is perfect up until where Farkle takes matters into his own hands.

(Riley still loves Lucas!)

/

He breaks up with your best friend, but not really in a sort of we're breaking up but we were never really together so whatever. And shut up. And whatever. It's up to you as you hold your breaking and crying best friend in your arms and she's balling and she's crying and you want to, oh so bad, punch him in the face over and over and over again until you're finally deemed satisfied (which will never be) but your best friends begs and begs you not to.

You don't.

But you know why it happened. You see the way Riley looks at you and him, and it's as if it's the look of despair and sadness. Because she gets that it's now you and Lucas, not that it was ever Riley and Lucas. And everyone knows.

/

You don't talk to him for a month. Riley didn't wish for so, but you refuse to do so. You're confused, and Riley's hurt, and Lucas is stupid and nothing is right. Nothing was ever right with Lucas in the equation and you have no damn idea why you're so attached. Someone please stop me, you beg. (Because Riley was his his his his his his but now the roles are reversed.)

But your best friend confronts you, and she tells you it's okay. Because she gets it now, and she starting to understand.

Lucas was never really mine, Maya. He never was.

/

So you hold his hand in yours and your smile brightens up wider and bigger and you're happy, you're happy with the way things were. And things were almost always confusing with you and him, but you were happy.

Because now it's you and him and him and you and you like it that way.

Because you're the girl he loves.

i only grammar checked once so whatever.

i pulled this outta my ass but whtever. yall suck MY ass cuz i dont care anymore. i had to finish this or i was gunna be anxious. im gonna change the description slightly yll whatever

REVIEW and fave i spent a lot of timeo n this.