Fake You Out || Twenty One Pilots Fanfic || completed

ｆｉｖｅ

••• "The warm air from our school hand dryers thawed my palms as I waited for them to once again gain feeling. I hadn't felt my hands for a while while up on the roof, certainly keeping my hands in my pockets didn't help.

Our school restrooms reeked of cheap perfume and old hair products.

At first it causes a sharp pain in the back of your head, probably of chemical poisoning, but after a while, you get used to it.

I slid my sunglasses off while trying to squint my eyes just because it seemed that opening them too much at that moment was the wrong decision.

I ran my hands under hot water and scrubbed the horrifying aftermath of my mental breakdown out from under my eyes. It took a while to get every spot, but I eventually cleared my face of leftover mascara and eyeliner.

Usually, I didn't care to put so much makeup on. But lately I've been so stressed and busy that I've been losing my time to clean off the previous day's worth of mascara, which means I've been piling it on for a while.

Looking myself in the mirror, I sighed. I sighed at the fact that my life has been such a mess in the past few months, and I couldn't help it. If anything I was making everything worse. All I did was shut people out. I couldn't help it, I mean I've been hurt before, I just don't want it to happen again.

* * * *

"Okay, okay maybe Shakespeare wasn't exactly the most understandable, but he definitely knew what he was talking about."

By far, Mr. Thomas was my favorite teacher at our school. I've never really fit into the crowds of math nerds, the jocks, or even the dancers. I've always been more of a one with words. I don't know. English was just always my passion.

And because of that, I've actually given myself purpose. Writing was just my way of expressing myself.

Mr. Thomas has just been with me since my freshman year, and because of my high level of academics, I've been in the same advanced class since the beginning of high school.

"Well, speaking of Shakespeare, I will need all of your papers. Harley, you're okay with helping me grade aren't you?"

I sat up immediately and fixed the hairs covering my face. "Yes of course. I'll be right there."

Standing up, my knees cracked and I stretched before walking over to his desk.

"How come Harley didn't have to write the paper?" Brendon boomed.

I looked down even further as if hiding from his gaze.

"Because she's smarter than you Brendon." He answered.

In the back of the classroom people shouted back. "OOOH" and pointed to Brendon.

"She also wasn't here when I assigned this essay which means she had been excused from this unit." Mr. Thomas said as he stapled two papers together.

"Yeah because she missed it  in the hospital." Brendon whispered.

I grew scared and held my breath every time I had written something down on the papers.

"That's enough Brendon." He shouted.

The room went silent and everyone just went back to texting or writing in their notebooks.

I really didn't care to know why Brendon was even in the advanced class. Probably because it was his senior year and if he was still in the less advanced class it would give our school bad recommendations.

Mr. Thomas suddenly dropped every paper in hand and stood up from his chair.

"Tyler! How nice it is to see you." I looked up from what I was doing and blank faced at the boy who stood in the doorway.

That guy on the roof.