Author's Note: This fic is Trevor/Raven. I don't say it's Alexander/Raven, so don't shoot me for being disappointed. Before you review, at least be polite and read it.
You prance away from me, sashaying with the grace of a lean black mare in the twilight, away from me and back to your Goth Boy. You may know how angry I am, but you think it's because you've beaten me, that you trounced me somehow. My reputation or my popularity.
It's kind of funny, how you think those things matter to me.
But you're right – you have upset me. But not the way you think. My reputation doesn't matter to me – I've lost my best friend, no one at school will look at me with respect, I've fallen from the ranks of the popular kids faster than a bat can fly. None of that really matters to me, not as much as you'd like to believe. It's just a way to make up for the empty spots in my life.
There's just one thing I want. One thing that can fill those holes. I don't think I'll ever have it. You ridicule and despise my parents because my dad owns half the town, but no matter what he pays for, no matter how much money he gives me, the one thing I want is something he can't buy.
You laugh as you land in your Goth Boy's arms. I'm sure you're talking about me. About your latest humiliation that you tossed on me. Maybe because you've turned the school against me. Maybe because you stole away my best friend. Maybe because you're sure that no girl in town will ever look at me in that way ever again.
That's fine by me. I don't care about a lot of the girls in town.
There's one girl, though, that I do want to see me, to notice me, to look at me in that way, for her to see me just the same as I see her.
I want her to look at me and see freedom.
When I see her, that's what I see. Freedom from the expectations of everyone around me. Freedom from the standards my parents set. Freedom from everything that stresses me out: the confines of my life, the monotony of everything. Freedom from all the exact cookie cutter that I was born to fit into.
She is my freedom.
I want her to look at me and see me for who I am: a scared teenage boy. I want her to see that I want to be free, like her. I want her to look at me and see freedom, like I do, and a life with me that's free of all limitations.
You don't know what I think. You don't know what I dream. You think I'm shallow. And I'll admit that I can be pretty shallow sometimes. A lot. You think I'm a bastard, a narrow-minded jackass. Yeah, I know that I can be a real son of a bitch sometimes. (You've met my mother.)
You've left now with your Goth Boy, and I stand and stare for a moment before I get into my car. I sit in the driver's seat for a moment and pull out a very worn-out action figure. I've had it since I was six years old.
And, Monster Girl? I sit here and think about loving you.