Y/n had always had a thing for bad boys; smokers, bikers, drug dealers, the lot. But none as extreme as Jason Dean, the new kid at Westerburg High. But as this peculiar new kid says, the extreme always seems to make an impression...
Warning: include...
Author's note: This won't just follow the plot of Heathers, don't worry. And apologies in advance for using the word "smirk" so often, but it's the only word that depicts JD's smile properly. I'll also include photos of your outfits for reference but feel free to change them up to suit you.
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{Your POV}
It's been a typical day so far, as school days generally are. Repetitive and monotonous. Sitting at my usual table with the Heathers, I feel out of place as always. The only thing different so far was the topic of the lunchtime poll. How interesting.
The Heathers and I go around the school asking the student body our lunchtime poll question. Some people wonder why the Heathers let me hang with them, since my name isn't Heather. And they didn't really need a blue Heather anyway. Other students call me lucky, but truth be told I'm just the Heathers little fixer-upper project. But little do they know, they're mine as well.
Nearing the end of lunch, there's only one student we've left out. One I've never seen before. Heather nudges me to approach him, as he's too much of a "freak" for her to be seen talking to. As I walk towards him I take in his dark fluffy hair, strands falling neatly about his face, his piercing hazel eyes, and a mischievous smirk on his lips.
"Greetings and salutations." He says in a soft but gravelly voice, grinning a bit more now. "You a Heather?" "No, I'm a(n) Y/n." I reply, letting a small smile slip onto my face.
❓
After asking my question, I turn around to walk off before a realisation comes to me and I spin on my heel. "I didn't catch your name," I ask in a questioning tone. "I didn't throw it." He smirks, chewing on the end of a pencil. I bite my lip to stop myself from chuckling, at which he raises an eyebrow, and Heather C grabs my arm to yank me away.
❓
As we sit back at our table Heather C rolls her eyes and sighs heavily at me. "What?" I spit in annoyance. "You cannot be seen with that freak. It will ruin us." She huffs, before crossing her arms and glancing back at him. "Looks like Kurt and Ram have the same opinion." She says, and allows an "I told you so" expression to cover her face as she relaxes into her seat, still watching.
Her expression turns to shock when the "freak" stands up to expose a gun. I let my jaw go slack when I hear two consecutive bangs, but it turns to laughter when I realise they were blanks and see Kurt and Ram clutching their stomachs and rushing out of the cafeteria. The Heathers are furious at this boy, and even more furious at my laughter.
❓
{Freak's POV}
Y/n. What a beautiful name. And a beautiful girl. The look in her eyes when she approached me, it'll never leave my mind. She's surely the last pure thing in this world. What is she doing conducting lunchtime polls with the Heathers?
I've only been at Westerburg for a day, and I've received warning of suspension. Perfect. And I wasn't in that school two minutes before hearing of the Heathers, but no one mentioned their angelic counterpart, Y/n.
I lay in my bed at home reading a poetry composition by Walt Whitman, fixated on a specific stanza in one of his poems:
"I am not to speak to you I am to think of you when I sit alone or wake at night alone I am to wait. I do not doubt I am to meet you again I am to see to it that I do not lose you"
I pore over the last line over and over. I whisper it softly to myself - no, to her. "I am to see to it that I do not lose you..."
