The real stuff starts to go down at this point, folks. Fasten your seatbelts for a truckload of spam. (—hopefully)

*not edited*

Finn always wore mismatched socks on his feet whenever he had a chance to do so. Maybe it was due to his slight heterochromia, with one eye a little greener than the other, that he harbored a penchant for mismatched things, which was maybe why they ended up being friends—despite all their differences—in the first place.

On any other Friday, those eyes would be smiling, reeling from a previous joke or sarcastic remark, or enlarged in excitement as he focused on the game playing on the TV screen, but this Friday, they were cold and narrowed down to peering slits, much like the eyes of a cat about to pounce. "What do you mean you're busy tonight?" he said.

"I have a thing to go to, Finn," Mit replied, her voice much lower and layered with an air of tiredness. She sidestepped him in the living room to get through the space between his form and the living room lamp, but halted abruptly when his hand latched down on her forearm. Underneath the harsh lighting in her face and his equally hard scrutiny, she felt extremely exposed, like a lab frog spread open on a tile ready for dissection, and quickly ducked her head away. But even then, it was too late.

"Have you been crying?"

There was a jerky movement down the length of her arm as she wrenched it away and staggered backwards. "It's sweat. Just drop it," she said, but Finn was an unrelenting, indomitable force when he wanted to be.

"Fûcking hell, Mit. Do you really expect me to believe that your eyeballs have developed sweat pores overnight?"

"Peter Parker became Spider-Man overnight," she replied, and in spite of himself, the corner of his lip lifted up amusedly before flattening to its former scowl.

"What's wrong? Don't you trust me? Or is it private TMI girl business because you can offload that on me too, I don't mind. I live with two women...even though one of them is in menopause. But it still counts. Right?"

"Finley are you insinuating that it's my time of the month?" She cocked her head to the side, fully satisfied as she saw his face slowly reddening like rising mercury in a heated thermostat. She realized she was also doing a good job at distracting him. Finn didn't need to know about the daily weigh-ins on the bathroom scale, the poking at skin in the mirror, the skipped meals, the tears wasted on self-hatred, the anxiety, the pressure, the struggle to be considered beautiful by the society.

"I...er...I," his voice trailed off as he scratched the back of his neck, and on the receiving end of her loud laughter, he dropped his head dejectedly, letting his copper hair shield his pink face while muttering, "I hate you."

She pinched the side of his cheek before tapping it lightly with her palm , and then adjusting the tote slung over shoulder.

It was a classic move of leaving it to the last minute before telling Finn about her plans for tonight, after all, she put the pro in procrastination. But she couldn't just let him down so easy. There was just something listlessly chanting within her with a zeal to please everybody. "You can come with to the party? I mean, if you want, of course. It's totally your choice." A part of her shamelessly hoped he would say no, more to preserve his reputation in case anyone mean and popular at the party called him out for not having been invited. She herself was tottering precariously on the social ladder, a no-named misfit (except perhaps under words like 'Melon'), so she wouldn't be able to put up much of a defense without falling even harder, considering there were no plus-ones allowed. Or maybe she was just over analyzing this all.

"I don't need a pity invite, Amit," he snapped, the catlike quality returning to his eyes. "If you're gonna ditch me then just do it outright. You don't need to try and sugarcoat everything to make yourself seem righteous."

Her jaw slackened, mouth opening and closing like a fish drawn out of water. Yes that was what it felt like. That was what everything felt like nowadays. Like she was a fish caught onto the hook of a strong fisherman, struggling and struggling not to give in to the pressure. A fishing line stretched taut, the frantic splash and splatter of water, a fish struggling not to lose itself.

The harsh rebuff was anticipated but not expected. And the most painful part of it all, was the trueness. Everything he said was true, and for some reason it opened up a deep crevice of hurt somewhere in her, like she was allergic to criticism. "You don't have to yell at me."

"I wasn't," Finn paused to sigh, then scrubbing a hand down his face. "I wasn't even yelling," he continued with a mellow tone, pinching his left eyebrow. "The least you could have done was to at least run it by me beforehand. You can't just stand people up so abruptly. It's not right."

"I know," she spoke while checking the time on the wall clock hung behind him. Paris would be coming soon. Mit didn't want them to run into each other. It'd be too awkward. "I was just...scared."

His eyebrows scrunched together. "Why?"

"I think you know exactly why." She hadn't wanted to disappoint him, and furthermore, Finn could be a bit of a hothead when he wanted to be.

"Why are you being so cryptic?" he said, although this time it seemed like he was just picking a fight. "If you have something to say then just come right out and say it!"

"You're stressing me out, Finn. Don't shout at me."

"But I have to," he defended, the volume of his voice raising even higher, and she was thankful that her parents had gone out for dinner. "You keep treating me like shît and expect me to take it all, just like that? You care only about yourself!"

The metaphorical fishing line tightened suddenly, the hook digging lethally into her upper palate. In her peripheral view, she could sight Paris' BMW slowing to a park in front of the house, the bright headlights flashing though the window blinds. Mit could also feel another onslaught of tears threatening to make an appearance, and an overwhelming urge to smack a hand across Finn's face—anything to shut him up—but instead chose to head for the front door.

"Oh what? You're just gonna run away now? With your snooty new friends, right? Like a coward!"

"Leave me alone!" she screamed, raising her voice for the first time that evening. Finn stepped back suddenly, noticeably shaken from the sudden change in disposition. "Get out of my house! Leave me alone! Get out!"

She didn't wait for another word from him before barreling out the door, feeling more broken and empty and heavy than she has done in a long while. They said that the truth would set you free, but instead it killed her in the worst way possible.

In case of some of you are wondering why Mit is acting so spastic and weird, these are symptoms of low self esteem and anxiety.

Here's a meme!

If you haven't seen the new spiderman yet, you're missing out!