Bzzt, bzzt

Tom woke up to the annoying noise of his vibrator, which he had hidden under his pillow. He wasn't gay, he just liked to rub it on his dick. He grabbed the sex toy, and thought about getting a quick use out of it this morning. No, not this morning. He had a math exam today.

Getting up, Tom reached into a drawer, reaching for his school uniform. Tight pants and a shirt that chafed his nipples. Perfect. Just perfect. Saying goodbye to the loving fleece embrace of his pajamas, he squeezed into the gay fucking school uniform.

He brushed his hair, using long, upward strokes to give it that Bart Simpson look. He was quite the edgelord, and hated social contact because he's super relatable. Leaving his room, he decided to skip breakfast, because fuck energy and full stomachs, right?

---

Tord looked out his window, stalking poor Tom. He quietly made snarky comments about Tom's stick-figure body. He could snap Tom in half like a toothpick. Tord had a very complex morning schedule, and this was what it looked like:

6:30 — rise from slumber

7:00 — stalk pussybitch

7:30 — fantasize about kicking pussybitch's tiny nuts

7:40 — write in diary about how fucking dumb pussybitch is

8:00 — wish parents would leave and never come home, because fuck parents with their giving me free food and a roof over my head. What assholes!

8:20 — take a fat shit

8:40 — pray to Gene

9:40 — masturbate

Next, he wanted to masturbate till he came blood, but he didn't make it that far since he heard the sound of a door slamming shut. Dammit, his parents were still alive...

No, it wasn't his parents, it was Pussybitch, and he looked like he got into a fight with a stereotypical bully. His hair looked like it had been tied up, as though someone grabbed it and swung Tom around. His gay clothes were still tight and gross looking. The guy was sweating, like he had taken a huge shit in hot weather.

Tom looked like an office worker who had jumped out the window. It was fucking disgusting, like always. Tord looked smugly at his 'enemy'. Tord threw one of his cum rags at Tom's window. Some sticky fluid remains stuck to the glass pane as the rag fell to the ground. Tom looked at Tord like he was about to commit a murder.

"Heya, Pussybitch."

"Kill yourself."

Tom turn away from Tord, picked up a pillow, and screamed into it. Tord watched in amusement as he played with another used tissue. What a bitch.

"Tom, why are you home? Aren't you supposed to get fucked in the ass in the boys' locker room until three?"

Tom looked like he was about to punch something. "No, I just have anxiety like every other teen on the planet these days. And anxiety, much like a hungry animal, attacks sometimes. I guess you wouldn't know about that, since you stay inside and get molested by your parents all day."

Tord sighed. Of course he had anxiety. Like Tom had said, every teen on the face of this godforsaken earth had anxiety. And depression. More than half the time those mental disorders are self-diagnosed.

"You home alone?" Tord asked.

"Yeah. Why, wanna come over and Netflix and Chill, gay boy?"

"No, just asking. I should've assumed that, because it's not like you have any friends who want to come over. Care for another cum rag?"

Tom nearly slammed the window shut, but what would that accomplish? That would be letting Tord win, and that couldn't happen.

"Self-diagnosed anxiety?"

"Yep, so I seem like a cool kid, because mental disorders are glorified these days."

"Everyone's scrambling for snowflake points."

There was a pause. Tord flicked some more cum rags out the window.

"Wanna go beat the shit out of each other somewhere?"

"No, that's illegal."

"It's not if nobody knows."

Tom sighed. "Okay, whatever. But I'm not carrying you home or telling your parents when I break both of your legs and leave you to die."

"Cool, meet me here at nine."

"Oh, nighttime fight? Good luck with that. I have the darkness on my side," Tom said, pointing to his eyes.

"Wear something nice, so nobody suspects anything."

"Alright, piss-stained shorts and cum rag shirt for me."

The boys shook on it and went on their no-so-merry ways.

---

Finally, nine.

Tom had worn exactly what he had mentioned earlier. The cum stains were crusty and a bit uncomfortable, and the piss-shorts were freshly pissed in for authenticity. Or, um, authen-piss-ity. Nice.

Once again, Tom pushed open his window. The sparkly dumbass was already there, waiting, and wearing women's clothing. Like always.

"Evening, Pussybitch."

"Evening, regular bitch."

"Ready to fucking die?"

"No, but I bet you are."

Tord jumped out of his window, grabbing onto the tree just outside. Now, this part of the original story makes absolutely no sense. If the houses are close enough for two teen boys to shake hands, how in the hell is there enough room for a fucking tree to grow? In conclusion, Dear Starboy is really poorly written and the worst fanfiction in existence. And I'm one to talk!

"Are you fucking stupid?" Tom asked. Who was he asking, though? Tord or SaltiestBlueberry?

Bang bang, shots fired.

"Nah, just not a... Pussybitch," Tord said, putting strong emphasis on the Pussybitch part.

"I'm not jumping."

"Okay, I guess I'll just tell everyone you lost the fight."

"Everyone? You mean your parents? Cause you're a fucking NEET."

Tord waved him off and began to walk away. Tom huffed in frustration, then jumped to the tree that transcended time and space. Tord looked Tom right in the eyes as he parkoured his way through. He looked like a--

The tree branch Tom was holding broke, and he went hurtling to the ground. He smashed his face good, too. Thank god the Eddsworld art style doesn't have noses, or else he'd have to go to the hospital.

"You can't even win a fight against a tree," Tord laughed. "Pathetic."

Tord walked past Tom and into the street. Sadly, there were no oncoming cars, so this god awful story had no way of ending its life sooner.

"Where the hell are we going?" Tom asked, catching up.

"Somewhere where nobody will find your body."

"Yeah, sure kid."

"I'll beat your ass right here if you call me that again."

Tord jogged toward the opening to the local forest. A local forest... in London. Because those are everywhere in the capital of England...? And it was one called Starbank Forest. Wow, did someone ask a teen with an aesthetic Tumblr blog to name this place? Hell, there was even a waterfall here. Where is this fantasy land? Perhaps Tord is in a coma, and his brain is making up these shoddily-places areas and trees.

Tom thought this, too. Did they enter a portal to the fucking jungle or something? A large waterfall in a forest in the middle of London. This couldn't get anymore confusing.

There was a small open area, in the shape of a near-perfect circle. Tord had gone over to it, and was preparing to fight.

"This is actually pretty cool, right?" Tord asked.

"No, it's really not. And it's gonna be even worse when I drown you and stain the water with your blood."

"I found this place the day we moved in."

"You found this place in one day. And I've lived here forever and have never found it. Maybe I need to get out more..." Tom said that last part quietly.

"It was a nice place to set up my makeshift emoji church to pray to my God, Gene"

"It's always the emojis with you."

"Yep. I want to be one."

"Just kill yourself, then. You said people become emojis when they die."

Tord nodded and hummed some Gucci Gang. Such a quaint little melody, it was. Tom watched the bugs in the air, and slapped at them. Pesky little creatures.

"Is this, like, your little safe space? Can't get triggered here?" Tom asked.

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Fair enough. Wouldn't want anyone hurting your special little feelings."

"Yes, and you seem to have a tough time taking insults, too."

Tord looked up at the moon. He didn't have his red dress on tonight, so he could not dance in the dark in the pale moonlight.

"You wanted to use this as your safe space, too?"

"No. And aren't we supposed to start fighting?"

"Yes, just have to stretch. Then be prepared for an ass-beating."

"Okay fine, I'll use this place, too."

The two got up, then stretched and loosened up. They raised their fists, ready to go.

"I was just kidding, Pussybitch. This is my turf. Now prepare yourself to meet Gene."