Starstruck II: Saruman's Curse

Hipsterism (Sad Hipster Party AU)

AN: The song lyrics do not belong to me, I did not write them, they are not mine. I wrote everything else, except the story Kaia tells. She wrote that. Ok now read.

High school. The worst thing invented by mankind since nuclear war. Who in their right mind would think that sitting in stone hard chairs for hours on end while being lectured on such topics as the Civil War and microeconomics would be an enjoyable activity? And to add to the day to day pain of note and test taking, there were the people. Now naturally in a high school you've got your clichés, the jock dating the head cheerleader and the nerds being considered the social outcasts, but there's one that, for some reason, always gets over looked in stories such as these.

The Hipsters.

Now, by definition a hipster is "usually a young person who is trendy, stylish, or progressive in an unconventional way; someone who is hip" (thank you dictionary.com), but in the eyes of lonely nerd Steven Proudfoot, they were so much more.

The hipsters at Steve's high school usually tried to stay out of the lime light, which was hard considering the outlandish clothing they wore and their constant obsession of bands and things that have yet to come to the attention to the mainstream media. The hipsters were constantly in and out of the shadows, wanting to be seen just enough so people knew they were there, yet hidden enough so they could remain mysterious and interesting.

And Steve had fallen head first into their trap.

For Steve, the hipsters were something to be desired, like a forbidden treasure. He wanted so much to be like them, to be in with them. Everything about hipsterism appealed to him, from the fashion to the music. But there was one thing, or, well, one person in particular that made Steve want in with them so badly.

James Tiberius Kirk, hipster extraordinaire. He was their leader, and a total hottie. Steve lived for the moments in math class when Jimmy would get up to throw something out or sharpen his pencil so he could get a glimpse at that perfect... well, never mind.

Everything about Jimmy was perfect. The way he threw his head back when he laughed, the way his eyes sparkled when he told a joke, his sense of fashion, his love of the fine arts. He was witty and wonderful, caring and sweet. He was everything Steve wanted in a person. But he could never be with him.

It was one of those unspoken high school rules that kept Steve from attempting to get with Jimmy. You stayed within your group. You only dated people who were like you, or your kind. At least, that's what Steve told himself.

Math class had been particularly painful that day. In addition to the seemingly endless trigonometry notes they were taking, Jimmy's pencil could not seem to stay sharp, and Jimmy could not stay in his seat. Steve could not concentrate at all.

Something hit him in the side of his head. Paris, one of the few people Steve talked to, had thrown something at him.

"What?" he whispered.

After making sure the teacher wasn't looking, Paris passed Steve her notes. He quickly scribbled down what he had missed, which was most of it.

Almost immediately after he had finished, the bell rang, signaling the end of the school day. One by one, the students filed out of the class.

Steve started to walk towards his locker, and Paris followed him.

"Steve, I don't know what your issue is. I have to lend you my notes almost every day, and you still somehow manage to do better in that class than me."