Novelette {Oneshots}

First Year Problems ✧ 𝙱𝚊𝚍

This one needs a story time...
This was meant to be 'Pretty Boys' part 2.
It isn't.
It became something else completely different, so they're both only 1 part now...

𝚂𝚔𝚎𝚙𝚑𝚊𝚕𝚘 (sort of - it's suggestive)

𝚃𝚆𝚜: -

𝙳𝚎𝚜𝚌: Desires but with less soulmate au and more debate club relevance. That's it, that's the thing.

Two Skephalo school AUs in a row...
I've gone full circle.
------------------------

It started as a small problem.

A small problem involving a kid who I'd at first suspected had stumbled into the debate club purely by accident. It was obvious he was a first year, barely a few days into classes in this school, and most likely lost while trying to get somewhere else.

Though after someone stepped in to offer help, he claimed he was exactly where he intended to be. Something none of us believed at first, but after he refused to leave, people seemed to reluctantly decide on letting him stay.

Despite the very obvious 'Zak' printed across his student lanyard, he introduced himself as Skeppy. Insisted on that name, going as far as to challenge anyone who would use another, resorting to removing his lanyard completely when that didn't go as planned.

I had to admit, he had some guts to turn up to a debate club filled with second years and try to stand his ground, talk like he owned the place. I'd told him as soon as I turned up, earning a mischievous laugh and a "yeah, I kind of do that," in response.

"Well," I rolled my eyes. "Not here you don't. I'm the debate club president."

"'The debate club president'," he mocked, putting air quotes around the title and clicking his tongue once the words had tumbled out. "So what, are you god around here? Do people actually call you that?"

"What makes you think you can walk in here and talk to me like that?" I couldn't believe this kid. Evidently barely scraping eighteen by his still heavily childlike features, and barely scraping 5'8 in a pair of worn out sneakers.

Though besides them, he looked presentable. As much so as any normal college student would look, at least, wearing a pair of typical jeans and a hoodie. The latter of which was a pale blue, so large it almost looked like it wasn't his, hanging casually off of one shoulder to reveal a plain black shirt beneath.

"Uhh..." Skeppy ponders the question a little too dramatically for the action to not look teasing, and I scowl at the way he drags out the 'h'. "Maybe the glaring sign outside saying that the debate club is open to all college students, therefore meaning me."

As if to prove his point, he sauntered across the room, perched himself on the edge of a table, my table, instead of in the empty chair tucked neatly beneath it.

"Besides, this is a debate club," he stated matter-of-factly, a confident smirk on his lips. "Aren't we supposed to argue?" He shrugged, casually swung one leg over the other, leaning back on his hands.

"Because I'd say I'm doing a pretty good job at that right now, so maybe I should be the president instead."

I glared back at him, but my anger couldn't seem to meet his eyes, no matter how hard I tried. It must've been frustratingly obvious to everyone that Skeppy was naturally pretty, something he seemed to know and take advantage of.

He was built significantly more slender than the rest of us, with a complexion that looked naturally sun-kissed and big, dark eyes that could definitely melt both minds and hearts.

"I'm the debate club president, and it is staying that way," I forced myself to tell him sternly, but all anger seemed to melt away again under that gaze of his. "But since you seem to hate it so much, you can call me Bad, Skeppy."

"Ooh tough guy." The smirk still plastered across his face seemed to stretch all the way to his eyes, which glittered ever so slightly in the light. He giggled at his own joke, the sound overly saccharine and frustratingly pretty, brushed his raven hair out of his eyes absentmindedly without another word.

"Big words coming from such a small guy," I quipped back, trying to focus on something, anything other than the sickly sweet laugh that filled my ears and left me knowing that for some reason, it would be stuck there for a long time even after he was gone.

And it was.

That sound was the first thing I heard again this morning when I caught sight of him in the hallway, the only thing filling my head when I stare blankly back at his sweet little wave, failing to answer at first.

"Um... are you there?" I zone back in to the sight of that hand, now a significantly closer to my face. Its' owner looks almost flustered, cheeks stained with what looks like a pale pink.

"Yes! Yes I'm here, you muffinhead." I watch those dark eyes narrow a little at the nickname, immediately dreading using it when it earns me that same little giggle again.

It's like when you get music stuck in your head, but it's just the same few lines over and over. Then you're stuck humming them mindlessly, unsure as to whether it's more frustrating you can't think of anything but them or nice because maybe, just maybe you like the sound a little too much.

That's my current dilemma. One that has made me realise that my 'small problem' is now significantly larger, and much, much worse.

Because my new problem has a pretty smile, is someone I find myself wishing desperately will return to the debate club again just so that I can hear that voice again, even if it's only ever through pointless arguing. I decide then that that sound is definitely on the 'it's nice because like the sound a little too much' side of the spectrum, except 'a little' is better replaced with 'far'.

So when he asks if I'm coming to debate club again tonight, I find myself answering yes before even checking my schedule.

Then severely regret that decision, when it results in Skeppy asking where my dorm is and learning it's stupidly close to his. Then demanding that it makes sense if we walk to the main building together, something I'm once again agreeing to without really thinking about it.

Then he's gone, just as abruptly as he appeared on day one, and I'm left wondering if the problem is him, or me.

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 1134
I've always written Skeppy gushing over Bad in my main books, so I figured it was about time Bad got to do the same.