Nicole had always believed that nice guys finish last. She has always been surrounded by people who thought of nothing, but themselves and their own desires. In retrospect, these environmental factors from her tragic upbringings had turned her heart...
A/N - "What if (Y/N) (L/N) was in the Class of '09 anime? Even if the anime does become a bust and it doesn't bode well after this episode, then it was a good run. Perhaps, one day people will write their own fanfiction what-ifs for the anime."
"It is better to be hated for what you are. Than to be loved for what you are not." - Hikigaya Hachiman
- Pilot Episode -
Greetings whoever is reading right now. My name is (Y/N) (L/N). Before you get all caught up in a cascade of questions about what I look like, what my favorite color is, what I'm wearing, what kind of shoes I've got on, or, heaven forbid, my hobbies—throw all of that out the window. Why? Because, honestly, none of it matters. I'm not here to be dissected like some sort of social specimen for your entertainment.
I'll give you the basics, though, because it's only fair. My name's (Y/N) (L/N). Let's skip the superficial drama. To put it plainly, I'm a nobody. Not the cool kind of nobody that does rebellious stuff in movies and gets away with it. No, I'm the type of nobody that lives in a perfectly average American cul-de-sac. While attending an American high school somewhere on the edge of the east coast. Classic suburban life filled with crack kids, young thugs, and thin white girls that would snap like twigs under pressure. Maybe a little too classic, if I'm being honest.
Now, let's talk about my origin story. Raised in the wonderland that is America, I somehow managed to stay alive long enough to be granted the privilege of living solo by the age of fifteen. Imagine that—parents loved me enough to let me go off and figure life out on my own. Trust me, that doesn't feel as freeing as you might think. Fast-forward to me being seventeen, sitting pretty in my quaint suburban cul-de-sac in Burke, Virginia. Still alive. Still nobody. Just existing with my own independence.
Daily routine? Oh, don't even get me started. I wake up, shower, put on whatever won't make me look like a total disaster, shove some food in my face, go to school, work, and come home. Watch TV. Shower. Rinse and repeat. The thrill of a lifetime. I'm not some tortured soul with a grand, tragic backstory. I'm just here, living out the most pedestrian life imaginable. Don't expect some dramatic plot twist where I become the king of the school or fight my way to the top of some social hierarchy. Jimmy Hopkins, I am not.
I've made this clear, but let's go over it again: I'm a nobody named (Y/N) (L/N). If that bothers you, well, that's your problem. It's your insecurity speaking, and honestly, it's a little sad. But, hey, don't let my indifference get in the way of your feelings.
If you're still somehow interested in reading, then by all means, go ahead. Sure, invade my privacy. At this point, why not? But let's get one thing straight: I'm not about to indulge in some sappy "Dear Diary" nonsense. This is not that kind of journal and this is not a rewrite of Jeff Kinney's Diary of a Wimpy Kid. It's a place where I dump my thoughts, and if you somehow got your hands on it, I need you to give it back. Now. But, hey, if you're the type who wants to keep it, go ahead. Don't expect some wild follow-up or a dramatic sequel. This isn't a soap opera.
Now, let's kick things off with a little prelude. In early May of 2009, in Lake Braddock Secondary High School.
⎯⎯ ୨ May, 2009 ୧ ⎯⎯
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