He was holding a gun.

It was blue and rather large.

A plastic water gun.

Regardless of all those facts, it was still a gun.

And then you did the unthinkable.

You got me wet.

"MOMMY," I cried, "MOMMY! HE GOTS ME WET."

And what did he do?

He laughed at me.

It was then that I knew he was going to do some bad things when he was older.

And if at five I already saw signs of him going to the dark side (no matter how many cookies they gave you), then at seventeen?

Oh dear God.


Contrary to the popular beliefs of many (insert "stupid" here) people, next-door neighbors don't necessarily have to be friends, or enemies. Or frenemies. Gasp.

And we, my dear readers, were never friends.

Or related to each other (trust me on this. I would know.).

Or soul mates (I can't even think of him in that way. Wait. I can. Ew.)

Oh, and about that prior mentioned fact, 'we can never be soul mates', why?

Because he, Martin, didn't have a soul.

And yes, I just used his name.

Martin, Martin, Martin. There.


He, truthfully speaking (I swear), never actually went by the name Martin. He abhorred it.

When he was five, he went by Zorro. (He also wore a black mask. He got it for his birthday)

At eight, he went by Clark (It was his Superman phase. Thank God that's over)

At ten, he wanted to be known as the next Michael Jordan.

At thirteen, most girls secretly referred to him as Prince Charming.

Gag.

Again, truthfully speaking, he wasn't astoundingly good looking, nor did I think that he was ugly.
He was, well, average I guess.

Okay, so he was slightly better than average. But obviously, he's no Gaspard.

He was appealing to the eye, I guess. And that's that.

At fourteen, He officially became known as Matt.

Now, I don't know how they went from Martin to Matt, but somehow they did.

Strange transition.


I was looking at the old Archie comics that piled up in my attic.

And for some strange reason, Martin popped up in my mind.

He reminded me of Reggie, with Moose's brain.

I guess, by today's standards, he some what reminded me of Gabe Saporta.

He looked like him.

He, from what I heard, was the epitome of tall, dark and handsome.

Snort.

What a joke.

Because, honey, he wasn't tall. He's only a couple of inches taller.

Me being five four and he being five seven.

Dark, eh. His hair is blonde.

Oh, my bad. It used to be. It's black now.

The handsome? Ha.

Well, I guess.


We kinda talked before eighth grade started. I guess we were "friends." Outside of school, at the least. And suddenly even that unimportant line that connected us was broken the summer before eighth grade.

No one died, thank God. It was all him. Slowly, but surely, he changed. Instead of the blonde haired, blue eyed (And I do mean blue. Daniel Craig blue. Wow) epitome, you turned into another form of a cliché.

The dark haired, dark clothed, druggie.


"Martin? "I called out to him, at a high school football game.

It is him, he glances around when he hears.

But he doesn't respond. Pssh, loser.

What is he doing at a football game? I want to say, "double youu tee efff" but speaking in chat just makes me sound stupid.

And so far, I kinda do.

I sound like I'm fucking in love with him.

I'm not. Trust me, I would know.

Wait, did he just go into that really creepy building?

Oh, geez. I sound like a creeper.

But, what?

I get out of my seat, and walk towards that building.

Silently, I near one of the windows.

Sneakily, I peer inside.

Stealthily, I raise my head a bit more so I'd be able to actually, I dunno, see?

Stunned, I gaze on has some kind of exchange goes on between Martin and the other guy.

Suave, I go on the side of the window, where I'm invisible, and contemplate.

Stupidly, I look up again, to see that no ones in there.

Scared, I move my head a bit, to see all the angles.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

I jump, and let out a scared scream-like sound. "OHMYGOD!"

Martin rolls his eyes.

"I'm not going to judge you, y'know? But, seriously, you bought drugs like on school property. How stupid can you be? I mean-"

I was stopped by a kiss.

Haha, nope.

"Shut up, stupid. People can hear you."

"Sorry. But, you shouldn't do stuff like that. I mean I know it's tempting and all, but you have your life ahead of you and you can't ruin it by stupid decisions that you make now…"

He gave me a look.

"Stop that! Your parents are so proud of you and you can't let them down like this. And I can't let you do this—"

"You can't let me do this?" He did this weird jiggly thing with his eye brows; one of them was higher than the other, like the villians from movies.

"Martin, I've known you since you were born. We're friends, sorta, right? And I can't let you disappoint people like that."

He looked slightly odd. "Would it disappoint you?"

Now, from what I understand of cliché love stories and what not, this is the point where he confesses his undying love for me and I call him a 'idiot' or something and we fall in love. But you see, this happens in a cliché love story.

I hope I made it clear earlier, that my life is NOT a cliché love story.

"Well, duh. I mean MARTIN, YOU'RE…"

Another look.

"…WEIRD. SO DAMN WEIRD!" I got a few strange looks, but no one really paid much attention. The other team had just scored a touch down, or something.

"Wow."

"Adjectives are hard to think of in a spur of the moment thing, not like you'd know."

"Are you insuinating that I'm stupid?"

"Uh, yeah."

He glared at me, "Well. You're not the brightest marker either."

I laughed, "Is that the best you could come up with. I was right with my allegation!"

"What's with the big words?"

"We're juniors. The SAT's are coming up. I'm trying to use the – Where are you going? I thought we were having an amazing conversation together, Martin."

I guess we were better friends that I thought. Heh.

"Martin!" some girl squealed.

Yes, I'm not kidding you. Squealed. Exactly like a pig.

And I swear to God, he winced. That makes me smile.

"What do you want, Gracie?" he growled.

I see the girl now, and she's good looking.

So in this cliché love story, she'd be the conniving little twit that the MC hates because she's the main threat to getting the guy. Also, she's the one who has looks to kill, right?

Well. She doesn't.

She has a pleasant face; it fits her name.

And the way she moves? God, so graceful.

Don't get me wrong, I'm no klutz, but gracefullness isn't one of my traits.

"I missed you! I, like, haven't seen you in so long."

Her voice, sheesh.

It's annoying, like little girl who won't leave you alone and is a spoiled brat, annoying. Ha.

I decide to be a nice person, and save Martin, after all I gave him that really bad speech that he had to listen to, right?

"Martin, love! Wait up!" I croon.

Hey, I didn't take acting classes for nothing,

Martin turns around and gives me an odd stare before realizing what I'm doing.

"Dawhling, what was taking you so long?"

"I was," I look down briefly, "tying my shoe."

She wasn't buying it, unfortunately.

Did we not look couple-y enough or something?

"Gracie, this is my," pause, "girlfriend."

She literally snorts. I'm going to kill her.

"You're kidding, right?"

"Yes," I drawl, "he's kidding. Everyone jokes about having faux-girlfriends these days, no?"

She glares at me.

I take all my previous comments about her being graceful and looking pleasant back.

They were all lies. And see that, my friends, that's the truth.

"Martin, let's go. You need to drop me off."

"Yeah, I do. Bye."


We walk towards his car.

"Wait, am I really dropping you off?"

"Gee, Sherlock, I don't know. I just saved your ass and I think you have to repay me in some form."

He sighed, "Fine."

The drive takes about ten minutes, more or less. So we reached home in no time.

"Thanks. And Martin, I'd hate it if you died from a drug overdose."

He rolled his eyes, but as I was about to get out he spoke. "Wait."

I turned around, "yeah?"

He kissed me.

I can't go into to detail about how it was and if it was "passionate" or not, because I don't know.

But my stomach felt really weird and it was churning and stuff and I'm really confused.

He pulled away and sighed.

"I still don't think what you said matters."

I stared at him in shock. "What. What was that kiss for?"

"It was nothing," he laughs as if he doesn't mean it. He sounds like he was going to say more, but he doesn't.

"I, I don't understand. Why?"

He smiles, "I don't love you, I don't even like you that much in that way. But for some reason everytime you're around some other guy, I want to kill him. I get. Jealous." He sounds shocked.

"Where does that leave us?"

"Nowhere. You and me, not going to happen as much as you and hell, even I might want it too," he shrugs, " You mean a lot to me, and you'll always be my friend, but I'm not going to hurt you by becoming something more than that. I don't love you, but we have something, but I don't want to take that chance. You have a future, and I know I'll ruin it for you-"

"Martin. I'm glad you care about me enough so that you wouldn't hurt me, but what if I will."

He looks at me, confused.

"I want to give us -"

He kisses me again, before I can finish the sentence. "I don't think I'll ever be ready."


A/N:

This story came to me from an adorable five year old who's obssesion with Zorro still puzzles me. It came to me from listening to the song, "Check Yes, Juliet" over and over again.
Writing this was difficult from all the other ones, because there's more conversation in it than in all my other one's combined! Gasp. I really like the beginning and the middle was, eh. I know cheezy endings are so in right now, but I wanted a confusion and unsureness, if you know what I mean.

I tried to make it witty, but I realize at some parts it's like "double youu tee eff?" And I totally understand.

I'm pretty sure there are a hella a lot of errors and mistakes in this, and I went through it several times already, but if you notice any typos/mistakes/ whatever please do tell.

I like constructive criticism. It's the truth.

I picked the name, "Martin" from my username if you guys didn't guess that already. It just fit perfectly and after fitting it in, there was no question of finding a different name.

Notice how I never say the girl whose talking's name? :D I did that on purpose. Because I didn't know what to name her and I was confused and ahh.

Also, I felt that it sounded awkward when she goes "HE'S SO DAMN WEIRD" or something like that, and I wasn't sure. So did you guys feel that was akward? (I feel really akward asking if you guys felt it was awkard. heh)

I really hope you guys like this, or at least read it and review it. Because, I don't know, I like feedback?

Well, I have a paper to go write.

kthnxbai,

Martin the Waterskier.