I've changed my mind about making this a romance. It's a story that's about living, and Duncan and Gwen are not in love. They may kiss, fuck, whatever in this story but they are merely doing it out of friendship -- the soul purpose for being alive. It's NOT A ROMANCE.

Anyways guys, I hope you enjoy this! Even though it's my birthday I'm giving you guys a gift! So why don'tcha review and show me how much you like the story as a gift to me? :D

Selfish Breathing

By: Calamity Now

Proud people breed sad sorrows for themselves

- Nelly, Wuthering Heights

Dark almond eyes contrasted against sickly pale skin. Anemic blue lips pouted at the people passing by; she didn't notice me watching her. Fishnet stockings covered the expanse of her thighs as she leaned back against a wall, unlit cigarette hanging loosely from her lips.

"Got a light?" She called at me.

Without a word I reached into my pocket and walked across the courtyard, pulling my lighter out of my pocket and flicking it open. When I got near she leaned forward and stuck the tip of the cigarette into the flame and inhaled deeply. The tip glowed orange and reflected in her dark eyes.

"You know those things can kill you." I told her, and what I hypocrite I was as I lit up a smoke myself.

She shrugged her shoulders and blew smoke out in my direction. "Dying anyways." She said simply. It was the typical teenage response, exactly what I said -- like she took the words right out of my mouth.

"And besides, all the cool kids do it." I added him with a smirk, but she didn't smirk back, her eyes just stared at me like I was a moron; I definitely wasn't used to that. "What's your name anyways, babe? I see you around all the time."

"How about just because I borrow a light off you doesn't mean you deserve to know my name." She answered viciously and inhaled the smoke again to ease her nerves.

I was stumped yet again, who was this chick? And where the hell did she get off telling me to go fuck myself, though the real question was how the hell I could get a piece of her.

"How about you pull that stick out of your pleather-clad ass and try being civil?"

"It's real leather, actually," ahe said in a 'better-than-thou' voice and blew smoke rings into my face, "and why should I care about what some poser-punk-wannabe thought of me? You're not going to be speaking to me in a minute anyways."

"Oh really, and how could you be so sure of that."

She cocked her blue eyebrow at me and shook her head, mumbling something in some European language under her breath. After collecting her thoughts she looked back up at me and grabbed my ass and pulled herself close, mouth inches from mine.

"Because I'm going to walk away." She said in a husky voice and patted my cheek with a small cold hand. Slowly she let go of my ass and brushed past me, not bothering to glance over her shoulder for a second look.

Who the hell was that chick?

After making sure the stall was locked I dug through my backpack and searched for my little leather pouch containing my kit. After some digging I found it and placed the device that measures my glucose level onto the toilet tank and pricked my finger with the little needle. When I produced enough blood I smeared it onto the strip and stuck it into the device, 30 seconds later it showed me what I had been dreading. It was too low; I had to skip breakfast this morning since I was in a hurry.

"Whatever." I muttered under my breath, figuring I could make it the rest of the day.

Then I pushed out of the stall and kept my head down as I passed Queen Bee Heather and stupid subordinate Lindsay. They giggled about something as I passed by and after hearing the words 'Whore' and 'Goth' I knew that it had to be about me. Again, whatever.

The bell rang right as I got into the hall and I trudged to English, never before had I noticed that Punk Poser Wannabe was in my class. Him and his buddies sat in the back, all in their little corner of apparent coolness. Punk Poser Wannabe slowly noticed my arrival and a slow smile lit his face, eyebrow raising slightly, his eyebrow ring was infected. The hair in his goatee had crumbs in it, reminding me of the hunger that I was facing.

I took my usual spot in the opposite corner of the room, trying to ignore the stares I was getting from Wannabe Punk and his stupid stoner friends. I flipped open my notebook and started drawing a rabbit with a noose around it's skinny neck.

The teacher walked in shortly after and began droning on and on and on about Wuthering Heights -- usually I like English and I liked the book we were reading but I couldn't focus on anything he said really due to this pounding headache I was getting…

Slowly I raised my hand and Mr. Reid's eyes fell onto me, a smile gracing the corners of his lips -- reminding me of things that I really didn't want to think about "Can I go to the washroom?" I asked sweetly, even gracing him with a the prettiest smile I could manage.

"Of course you can, Gwen." He purred and I felt his eyes follow me out of the room.

The halls were empty thanks to there being all one lunch period, except for a few stragglers and bathroom break kids like me. I hardly paid any attention to them as I strode towards the doors that would lead to my freedom (and my cigarette).

After "Gwen" Left the classroom for a bathroom break I waited about five minutes before telling the teacher that I needed to piss and left the classroom with my bag and the teacher calling after me. I walked to the nearest set of doors where Gwen would undoubtedly be smoking a cigarette. I pushed through the double doors and waked outside into the fresh air expecting to see her with a cigarette at hand.

"Nope." I told myself as I met eyes with two other goth kids, one almost looked like Gwen but her skin was too dark and she didn't have that evil yet oh-so-sexy vibe that Gwen produced. Also, one of them was fat. Ewww.

"Do either of you know a Gwen?" I asked the two goth girls,

"Gwen?" The skinny one repeated dumbly

"Oh! You mean that bitch!" The fat one said with a triumphant smile, then both of them turned to one another and forgot about my entire existence as they chattered about her and her apparent bitchiness.

Neither of them seemed like very good Goths. I may not be the most hardcore punk, but at least I was better than these two posers.

"Look!" I cut in loudly, breaking them both out of their little bubbles of ignorance. "Do either of you know where she is? Because otherwise I really don't wanna be talking to either of you."

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, as anger crossed both of their faces and they folded them arms over their chests and turned away from me, making that 'humph!' sound for good measure.

"Whatever." I said and brushed past them, "Later bitch. Later fatty." I called over my shoulder then took off before they got over the disbelief of what I had called them. They deserved it anyways, calling Gwen a bitch.

Despite not seeing Gwen my mood didn't damper, mostly because of the 7-Eleven that was just a five minute walk away from the school, and my bud Roman worked there at this time. Which meant I would be able to purchase cigarettes once more and knick anything not nailed down without being scolded.

As I got to the 7-Eleven a flash of blue and black caught the corner of my eye for a second, but when I turned to look there was nothing there, and I shrugged it off as nothing. Mostly because Roman saw me through the window and motioned me over quickly.

The door bell ling dings rang as I opened the door and Roman grinned widely at me as he motioned me to the counter, forcing me to lean over it before he would speak. "I got the big c man. Come over Friday, and for God's sake don't bring those pussy high schoolers again. You, me, Ryder, and Collin, and his bitch are having a little party of our own."

A smirk crossed my face as I gave Roman a high five, despite listening to him trash my closest friends I couldn't wait to see him again.

"Anyways. I need smokes." I told him, trying to regain my composure in spite of the giddiness that was growing in my stomach.

"Alright." He replied and grabbed Johnny Players Silver for me, like always. I handed him a twenty and he gave me back the change mindlessly, then nodded to me and said in his best accent, "Thank you, come again."

Causing me to chuckle the whole way out of the store.

My happiness and giddiness faded though as I was stopped from one thing.

"Mother fuck, Gwen." I hissed under my breath and kneeled down beside her on the ground. Without trying to be careful I grabbed her shoulders and half dragged her limp body into a sitting position against the bus stop and shook her shoulders. "Gwen! Can you hear me?" I yelled in her face and gave her body another yank.

When I got no response I moved two fingers and checked for a pulse then for breathing in case I'd have to give mouth to mouth.

"Goddamnit! Gwen, what the hell happened?!" I asked frantically as I ran my eyes over her body, searching for anything that might work, then I noticed the tags around her neck. After practically yanking them off to get a better look I discovered she was diabetic. "Okay…I saw this in The Panic Room. Your shit is low!" I yelled to myself and tore through her purse and found a pouch marked 'emergency'.

"The fuck are you doing?!" A girl yelled as she came running towards us, "Do you know how to inject that stuff?" She asked me in disbelief, and dumbly I shook my head. "Go call 9-1-1 then! Hurry!" She yelled at me.

Obeying her commands I reached into my pocket and pulled out my cell phone, dialling the three numbers 9-1-1. The operator was infuriatingly calm as I told him what had happened, and after I gave him our location and Gwen's condition he told me an ambulance would be on it's way shortly.

Slowly I opened my eyes, and the first thing I saw was an EMT smiling down at me. She helped me sit up and informed me of all that had happened as far as her knowledge went then she gave me a juice box. After I was finished slurping down the fake orange juice I noticed him -- stupid punk poser wannabe kid sitting on a bench next to some lady and both were staring at me intensely.

"What the hell is he doing here?!" I couldn't help but ask as I pointed an accusing finger at that…creature.

"Duncan? That boy is a sweetheart. He's the one that found you and called 9-1-1. Without him you could've gone into a seizure." The EMT smiled at me and shrugged her shoulders when she saw my expression, which was probably horrified.

"Oh my god. How am I not dead?" I asked myself more than the EMT but she just smirked at me and gave me a reassuring pat on the back.

A minute later she moved over to Duncan and had a private word with him. Both of them were all smiles as they spoke quietly and planned something I had no doubt I would despise. Five minutes later Duncan was wearing a huge smirk and did his best to fake nonchalance as he strode over to me.

"How're you feeling Skeletor?" He asked.

"Fine." I answered curtly and tried to brush past him so I could get back to class, he surprised me by grabbing my wrist and yanking me back easily.

"Not so fast Skelly. I'm in charge of giving you a ride home." He said to me with this evil smirk and I fought every urge not to rip his face off and kick him in the balls.

"I'm not letting you drive me home." I stated firmly then turned back to the EMT. "He might be high! Have you checked him? You can't leave me in the hands of a psycho for God's sake!" I cried out desperately, searching her heart for an ounce of pity.

When the EMT said she was okay I finally exhaled a long breath in relief and thanked every god that I subconsciously prayed to. I could've screwed up so bad if I had injected her -- thank god I hadn't.

She wasn't as happy to see me as I was to see her but that didn't damper anyways. The EMT, being cool and awesome entrusted me in giving Gwen a ride home, and that's how she found herself in my crappy Hyundai listening to my punk CD's.

I couldn't help but admire her even more out of the corner of my eye. She sat low in the seat and one of her boots rested on the dashboard, the other outstretched underneath the heater. Her head tilted back towards the ceiling and her mouth moved to the lyrics Johnny Rotten wailed. She was the girl of my dreams.

"Who killed Bambi"

"You like the Sex Pistols?" I asked in hopes of finally starting a conversation with her.

"Shut up."

"You know you should show a little more gratitude. I saved your ass earlier you know. You could've died if I hadn't come along."

"If only I could be so lucky."

Her words stung and after I really couldn't think of another thing to say to her, so I kept my mouth shut and tried my best to lose myself into the masterpiece that was The Sex Pistols.

The silence was almost deafening it was so bad. Except when she told me where to turn and what street she lived on there was no sound from either of us and the car ride could not have been any more awkward. When I finally pulled up to her apartment she didn't even bother looking at me as she reached for the door handle. I couldn't help but snap.

"Why do you hate me so much?!" I said -- quiet calm actually, though my knuckles were white from where I was gripping the steering wheel.

Her eyes flashed back to me and I thought for sure I could read them -- I was wrong. Dark orbs shone blankly at me for a little longer than a standard blink. Then the strangest smile graced her lips as she leaned forward and nipped at my bottom lip with her teeth, biting until it would go swollen, then licking up the blood as if she were a kitten.

What the fuck was this girl on?

"Because you're an ass just like everyone else, Duncan." She murmured into my ear then pulled away and out of the car, pleasantly flipping me off before she unlocked the doors and let herself in.

"You are a bitch."

I am no bird; and no net ensnares me; I am a free human being with an independent will

- Jane Eyre, Jane Eyre