Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
★3rd Person POV
The bell rings throughout the empty halls as students go about and fill the halls. Some rushed to their next classes in hopes of making it on time through the crowd, and others couldn't care less about their attendance and pushed through to make it to their friend groups and partners. One thing the majority of the students had in common was that they didn't have enough time to stop at their lockers.
Well, besides the well-known lavender-haired male, of course. Light shoved through the stampede of classmates and acquaintances to his locker. When the familiar feeling of the lock made contact with his hand, he twisted the nob once to the right, then twice to the left, then back to the right for the final number. He pulled on the lock and threw the door open, secretly hoping that no one was hit in the process.
Light scanned over everything spread throughout his locker then reached for a grocery store bag hanging on the hook. He skimmed over everything one last time before closing his locker. Once it slammed shut, a hand slithered onto his shoulder.
Instinctively, the young man jumped and quickly turned around, grabbing the wrist of whoever was behind him. With how tightly Light was gripping their wrist, the silhouette behind him groaned in pain. Light turned around and was met with a familiar face, causing Light's eyes to rest into an unfazed expression.
"Chill, chill!" Drake hissed, prying his arm away. "The hell's got you tensed up?"
Light rolled his eyes, "Probably the fact that we're in the middle of a crowd and a select few have many problems with me to the point of them considering fighting me. Yeah, don't sneak up on people, damn."
Drake crossed his arms in front of his chest and leaned on his right leg. "Stop cussin' at me, would ya?"
"Told you, you have an accent." Light mentioned, slipping his phone from his pocket, and began heading toward the stairwell.
"I do not anymore!" Drake retorted, following behind. "I've gotten rid of it like-... Years ago, in middle school. You should know."
Light peeked over his shoulder for a moment before veering his attention back ahead of him. "So, you're admitting to the fact that you do?"
Drake groaned miserably, "No!"
As much as Drake wanted this specific incident to disappear from both of their thoughts, Light obviously wouldn't allow that. This conversation was referring to the past, in about seventh or eighth grade when someone was picking on young Light, Drake had witnessed the attack, rushed up, and began scolding them. From then on, every time Drake was angered, his English accent would slip out. Ever since Light has never failed to bring it up whenever the opportunity presented itself.
