I twiddle my pencil in my fingers, my wavy blonde hair hanging in front of my eyes and my freckled hands resting on the cold school desk. Even if I am a transfer student nothing feels different. Same boring classes, same cliché people and cliques, same everything. Other than the food, it honestly makes me sick to the stomach here.
I sighed and sat back in the slight curvature of the plastic seat, letting my eyes wander around the room, from person to person, window to window. Waiting for the hands on the clock meticulously click their way through the hour.
There was a sudden disturbance in the hall as raised voices echoed through the open door, followed by the metal clanging of something being slammed against a locker.
Everyone's heads suddenly jolted up, my own along with them, and the teacher slowly roast from his seat, his thick face turning a tomato red.
Girls turned and chatted to each other in hushed voices, and guys all gave each other glances of knowing. I was the only outcast.
Was this a common occurance?
As the teacher made his way out the door, a small group followed, to find the source of the commotion, soon followed by more grunting and clanging.
By this point my curiosity got the better of me, and I rose from my designated seat. My feet carrying me past students and desks, and out the door.
I turned my head and was met with the group of students who followed the teacher, who was hurriedly trying to break apart two students, speaking in a stern tone; but to no avail.
One boy, tall lean and muscular, blonde and jockey, had another pinned against the an industrial blue locker.
His hair was shaved on the right side, with gauges and piercings lining his ears. The other side was long and dark, with thinner dark eyes and facial piercings poking from his pale skin; obviously Asian.. He was tall, defiantly taller than me. And he had on a ripped up red shirt, ripped jeans and old worn out combat boots.
The blonde boy grit his teeth, "Why don't you fucking go back to your rice farm, Futo?"
The other didn't seem phased at all. He just blinked and raised his eyebrows a bit. "Well, Kelly, I would but I'm too busy fucking your girlfriend like every other guy in this school. So. Sorry you won't be getting any rice this week, Mr. America."
The blonde male's eyes flared, and he balled his free fist, slamming it against the dark haired male's jaw with a sickening crunch.
At this point the teacher had ripped off the one named Kelly and had him by the shoulders, escorting him down the hall as the other fell to his knees, blood dripping onto the snow white linoleum floors in a crimson puddle.
I pushed through the small crowed of students who stood gawking, and kneeled by him. "U-um are you okay...?"
He grunted, using an oddly scarred fist to wipe thick crimson blood from his lip. "I'm fine. Forget it. I've had worse..."
He glanced up and I really got a good look at his face. His dark eyes were slightly slanted and thick, a dark mocha color, with lighter flecks around the edge. His lips and cheeks were splattered with red flecks, and a black septum ring dangled from his nose, accompanied by an eyebrow piercing and two studs in his lower lip.
I took in a deep breath and felt a soft warmth rise to my cheeks. Oh shit he was hot... Okay gay go away help the dude.
I gently took my hand and placed it on the wound, causing him to cringe slightly at the light touch. "Don't, Blondie. I can handle myself. Back off."
He took his hand and placed it on my shoulder, looking at me before pushing me over harshly; making me fall back onto my back and hit the wall, making me gasp in both surprise in pain and tears immediately sprung to my eyes.
I heard him grunt as he stood up, his boots thumping against the floors and echoing though the halls.
I coughed and groaned, slowly lifting myself up and gripping my stomach and making my way to my feet. "F-fuck..."
YOU ARE READING
Luck Of The Draw (Boy X Boy)
RomanceAiden Øyvind, a seventeen year old Norwegian exchange student in America. He's awkward, anxious and has a new bully in the high school. Yuu Futomēina. Tall, muscular and misunderstood. He's had a rough past, and no one knows it better than himself...