What started with a random number (BXB) (GAY)

Crazy motherfucker.

"This is so fucking boring." Emory thought to himself. He had the biggest urge to just walk out, but since Red knew almost everything he was doing, he wasn't sure how exactly to do it. Emory glanced at the clock, he had about thirty more minutes before this class was over, and he was not about to wait that long. He grabbed his bag and stood up, before getting a text.

Sit.

Emory left the man on read and walked out of the classroom, he was planning to leave the school all together, but that was until he received another text message.

You walk out the school, I'm telling the principal to give you a suspension.

This caught Emory's attention, as he stopped in his tracks. He groaned and responded quickly.

My class is so fucking boring.

Too bad.

Emory huffed but returned back to his class, everyone staring. Again.
"Quit staring, or else I'll kick all of yall's asses." Surprisingly enough, everyone stopped staring immediately, causing a smirk to form on Emory's face. He loved when people were afraid of him. It made him feel powerful. But you know what doesn't? That little bitch, Red. Emory slumped in his seat, he scrolled through his phone, watching TikToks, trying to pass the time.
"Emory." Emory looked up and saw the teacher staring at him.
"What?" Emory asked, confused on why the teacher had said his name.
"What's the answer to this equation?" The teacher questioned, a small smile across his lips. Emory glanced at the board and read it over. 2(x + -5) = 9
Emory frowned.
"This is at an eighth grade level! You should be able to solve this, Emory!" The teacher scolded, earning a frustrated glare from Emory.
"How about you solve that fucking divorce of yours!?" Emory barked back. The whole class went silent as the teacher's face reddened.
"Out of my class, now!" He shouted. Emory rolled his eyes, he didn't give two shits. He stood and left, sitting outside the classroom door, his back against the wall.

That wasn't necessary, was it?

Emory ignored it. He was too pissed off to deal with this crazy motherfucker right now.

Answer, I told you the catch. You agreed.

"This fucking dick." Emory grumbled under his breath before furiously replying.

Just fuck off, I'm already pissed off as is, I don't need you making this worse.

With that, he powered off his phone and slammed his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. He tried to calm himself down but it wasn't working. He opened his eyes and looked forwards, the principal standing in front of him. He pulled his phone back out immediately and powered it back on. He read the messages and his expression darkened.

Excuse me?

...

If you don't answer in the next five minutes I'm getting you suspended.

...

Watch your fucking back, Emory.

Emory gritted his teeth as he stood up, yanking his bag up.

"Don't move a—" Without letting the principal finish what he was saying, Emory bolted, running towards the front doors. He left the school and sprinted down the sidewalk until he got to an alleyway.

He panted, wheezing as he tried to catch his breath. He put his hands on his knees as he doubled over, until he got a message. He reluctantly opened it, reading it over carefully.

Go back right this fucking instant, Emory.

Emory rolled his eyes, but he felt compelled to respond.

And if I don't?

Emory grinned, he enjoyed being cocky, the reactions always amused him. But this time, it did the opposite.

Then I'll send someone to make you.

Emory paused and read the message again. He huffed but started strolling back to the school, annoyed.

Don't let that bitchy principal suspend me.

Emory sent the text and dropped his arms by his side, he was in no rush to get back to the school. He kept walking until he heard his phone ding.

Then you'll apologize.

Emory stopped walking, staring at his phone. If there's anything Emory absolutely hated, it was apologies. He fucking despised them. In fact, he's only ever apologized when he was young, and right in the head. Nowadays, he would never choose to apologize. Emory didn't like apologies, but he couldn't get suspended. "Okay, suck it up. Just apologize." He thought to himself, breathing softly.

Sorry.

It wasn't the best apology, but it was the best he could do.

We'll work on that, but apology accepted.

What did he mean by 'we'll work on that'? Whatever. Doesn't matter right now. Emory arrived at the school and walked back in, rolling his eyes as students passed through the halls. If he was being completely honest, we would kill to fight someone right now. He needed a good rush of adrenaline, the feeling of pounding someones face in. God, he needs an anger management class.

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AUTHORS NOTE:
Thanks for reading! This is the second part!

(827 words)