Nesscas Oneshot Haven

One Day

The cold echoey halls of Smash High. Most students hate it. There are a few freaks here and there who for whatever reason seem to enjoy it. I never quite understood them. Sure, this school offers a lot but none of it ever really felt right for me, ya know? No matter how hard I tried to fit in to one of these things, it just wouldn't work. It's like I'm hard wired to not like anything. But it's fine. High School is ending soon and I'll be able to get a grocery job and live somewhat comfortably for the rest of my life. It may not be the dream life to people, but it's life.

Either way, I was called out of my Algebra class. I dunno why, but I don't care either. Just happy to be out of that place. Utterly soul crushing. I'm actually walking through the hall with someone, which is rare. But it's not like it's a classmate or a friend. It's my guidance counselor. Surely, he's going to take me to his office and lecture me about how I'm not making a stand for myself or whatever the hell. Whatever he says just goes in one ear and out the other. I can't find a single bone or nerve in my body to care what he says. But if it gets me out of Algebra, I'll take a lecture.

His office is quite nice. Has a nice brown carpeted floor with some pretty homey-feeling desks and chairs. Unfortunately, looks are deceiving as the chair I need to sit in in front of his desk is so uncomfortable. It makes those diamond benches feel like homeless heaven. My guidance counselor, Mr. Falcon sits across from me. This man is an absolute unit. His stocky shoulders and visible muscles through his tight fitting clothing makes him look more like a wrestler than a high school guidance counselor. And the name too. Pretty badass.

"Lucas, I'm assuming you know why you're here?" He asks with his voice that just screams athleticism. I dunno how a voice is able to seem athletic, but his voice found a way.

"Unfortunately," I say back to him. He sighs at me. I often get used to hearing that type of sound from people. Apparently I'm 'a party pooper' or whatever. I'm just a realist.

"Listen, we've got one month before graduation."

"Yeah, and?" Mr. Falcon crosses his arms and leans back in his chair. I do kinda feel bad for him. I can't imagine his job is very easy. Especially if there's more people like me. It's not like I want to give people a hard time. But it's just too much effort to really put up such a fake face.

"Lucas, there's still enough time for you to make a name of yourself." I roll my eyes. I get this is his job. I do. But he needs to understand that if I wanted to make a name for myself in this god forsaken place, I would have by now.

"I'm fine."

"I don't believe that." I'm really fine. I can understand where someone may look at how I act and be like "Oi, is something wrong mate?" But truly, nothing feels wrong with me. I have a pretty basic home life. Parents who somehow love me. A slightly older twin brother who's quite the opposite of me. He's the living embodiment of a popular kid from like High School Musical. I guess minus the fact he's not very rude. At least not to me. Who knows, he could be the biggest bully here but I don't care enough to ask. I have a good amount of friends, and my school life in general is pretty fine. So at my core I'm fine. I just don't know why I'm unable to showcase that. It'd surely get all these types of people off my back.

"Mr. Falcon, Sir, I promise I'm ok. I just wanna graduate and become a stocker at a grocery store. I don't need big ambitions."

"But why? Is...is there something going on at home? Is something going on at school?" He really doesn't get it. I can't really be mad though. If I was in his place I'd probably act the same. You never know when people like me are being hurt. Better be annoying yet helpful than to inadvertently continue pain. But all that doesn't mean I can't feel even the tiniest bit annoyed at him.