Punk Meets Ballet , l.h.

3,,,

"so, luke hemmings," she grinned and stood up and walked to the middle of the gym. "to what do i owe the pleasure." she chuckled and got into a dancing position.

"your cousi- brother i mean, wants me to teach you electric guitar." i said and strummed a "G".

"ah, classic nate," she spun around multiple times before leaping then planting back onto the floor. "always trying to make me like him and his group. the punks." she rolled her eyes and put her arms out and curved them in to it looked like she was mocking Santa Claus.

"y'know. the punks aren't as bad as you make them to seem." i looked at her. we stared at each other until she broke eye contact and shook her head.

"they aren't, but they are different from me and they think that's bad." she sighed.

"i mean, remi, i don't think it's bad. and i'm in that crowd," i strummed random chords then tucked the guitar back into its case. "i actually think it's cool." i smiled and left the room.

i walked to the music room, just down the hall to drop off my guitar. mikey was sat in a seat strumming his old, falling apart guitar.

"hey." i acknowledged myself and sat my guitar down.

"hi, you wanna hang out after school? we could get ash and cal to come." he raised his eyebrows.

i nodded and sat down next to him, sighing.

"what's wrong, dude?" he scrunched up his eyebrows.

"you know nathan renolds?" i asked.

"yeah,,, his girlfriend is so-"

"anyways, his sister, remi, is a ballerina,,, and he wants me to rub off my music on her. a ballerina." i groaned and rubbed my temples.

he pat my back and chuckled.

as he was about to speak up the door swung open to reveal a girl with a black leotard and a see-through pink skirt cover up thing, carrying ballerina shoes, and a black gym bag, and her hair messily thrown behind her back.

"teach me to play electric." she smiled.

,,,
ITS SO CUTE IM CRYING
I didn't go to school today
And I have a math test tomorrow
fuck
-m