A little Stutters oneshot I did because I'm having writer's block with some of my other projects. I'm writing a Stutters multi-chapter fic, is anybody who's reading this interested in that? I don't actually know how many Stutters fans there are. This oneshot's not really that great, but review or whatevah. Peace ~ CrisisOmegs

"Alright class, please exchange your poems with a classmate, and we'll do some peer editing."

"Dude, peer editing doesn't even work," Stan complains. "Nobody cares enough to give some honest criticism, or they're afraid of hurting your feelings." He's sitting right next to me, so I've been mashing my fists together all day. Kyle is out of school because he's sick, and I'm the only other person here Stan ever hangs out with. He keeps making little comments, whispering them to me like he's looking for me to laugh at them. I bet that's what he always does with Kyle. I giggle nervously a couple times, and he smirks whenever he gets a reaction out of me. I have to focus hard on what the teacher's saying so I don't blush and look stupid. I've really got to learn to behave myself.

"Wanna swap?" he asks me, and he holds out his poem. I'm embarrassed by mine, it's terrible. All we had to do was pick something and describe it with as many colors as possible. It's such a simple assignment, and it still didn't come out right.

"It's not very good," I say.

"Aw, what does that matter? Mine's no better, probably." He grins and gestures with his paper, so I take it and reluctantly offer mine. Then he clears his throat and starts reading it out loud.

"'Beautiful blue', oh, alliteration, nice," he begins, and I know he's doing it on purpose to tease me. I reach up to get it, horrified that other people might hear, but his arms are so much longer than mine that he just holds it over his head and keeps reading. He's got this fake serious expression and he's reading it in a really pretentious voice, like he's actually at a club in front of a microphone. I can't help it, I blush furiously anyway and I probably make a fool out of myself. He just pats me on the head and keeps reading.

"'A soft ocean aqua, swelling with cerulean, hidden under a peach mask then revealed with hints of clear skies, all mixed with deep sapphire and shining like one as well. Cobalt pools surrounded by white sand shores.' Jesus Butters, didn't know you were such an artist."

By now, my face must be pure crimson. He keeps smiling at me and he looks me in the face to commend my work. I'm staring at his eyes, trying to decide whether they're shining like deep sapphires today or if they're more of a soft ocean aqua. He turns back down to my paper. I curse the poem from drawing my attention away from his cobalt pools.

I start reading his, entitled "Rays".

Light sunflower sunshine rays, soft and silky pollen stays, glued to the bodies of yellow bumblebees, making a golden honey that can please, me, though I prefer a lighter shade, of a lemon moon or a highlighter manmade.

"Yeah, the highlighter part at the end is pretty shitty," he sighs. "Told you mine sucked ass, dude."

He winks at me and his hand finds his way to my blond hair. He nuzzles it before smiling wide. I wonder what his poem's about.