The Graduating Class of '09 (Class of '09 x Male Reader Insert)

Chapter 2 - 'Amusement'

Key:

(Y/N) - (Your Name)

(L/N) - (Last Name)

(F/C) - (Favorite Color)

(E/C) - (Eye Color)

- OG Class of '09 Saga -

*Disclaimer*

Class of '09 is respectively owned and created by SBN3.

The story itself features few major plot points from the original game. Although, most of it may be custom.

All art used belongs to their respectful owners, don't hang me!

--

[2007] September 13th

[Home]

6:05am

*[BEEP BEEP BEEP]*

"..."

*[BEEP BEEP BEEP]*

"..."

[BEEP BEEP-]

Oh, perfect. The alarm's gone off again. This is exactly what I need right now—nothing screams "great start to my day" like this blaring monstrosity. So, naturally, I just yanked the damn thing out of the wall. Now, I can savor the sweet silence and, y'know, enjoy my wonderful slumber like the genius I am. I'm too smart for school anyway. Who needs it? Jesus Fucking Christ, this is a better idea than anything that happens in that hellhole they call a high school.

Dad [Muffled]: "IF YOU DON'T GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE, I'LL MAKE YOU MY PUNCHING BAG, (Y/N)!"

Ah, there it is. His voice echoing through the house like a distorted megaphone. As if I needed more reminders that I'm the personal punching bag of this house. But hey, it's either that or getting the shit beat out of me, right? Classic family dynamic: me vs. Dad in a battle of survival. What did I do to deserve this? Seriously, why did you have to drop me in this insane asylum of a family? God has a sick sense of humor and for some reason my sister never once did anything about it.

I dropped to the floor, hoping my body would just magically slip into a prayer pose. Maybe this was my ticket out. Pray for salvation, hope it's enough to get me through the next few hours. But of course, the answer didn't come immediately. Guess God's a fan of the pretty girls only. Guess I'm too ugly for divine intervention. Damn, didn't know the big guy had a "looks" preference. Talk about sexist.

Crawling out of my bed, I somehow managed to stumble into the hallway looking like something straight out of a horror movie. I'm guessing the Coke and Mentos I decided to consume while playing Bioshock yesterday night didn't mix too well. Classic. Life just loves to throw me into absurd situations. It's like being punished for existing, as if my very presence in the world is some kind of cosmic hate crime. Why? Because I'm almost legal age to be a fuckboy? I mean, I'm not a pedophile. I'd hang myself before I even thought about dating someone half my age.

I dragged myself into the bathroom, barely conscious and already regretting my life choices. My reflection in the mirror stared back like it owed me money—dark circles, bedhead that looked more like a tornado had taken up residence on my skull, and the faint glow of someone who hadn't seen the sun in a century. Disaster zone? Nah. I looked like someone detonated a bomb in the "attractive" aisle, and I was the leftover rubble. The worst part? I knew this was the best I was gonna look today. Moving was inevitable, no matter how much I wanted to dissolve into my bathroom floor.