You're That One Kid // *BL, YAOI, SMUT*

1 • Vincent

I stood out in school. It was high school, so you'd think that a lot of kids would. It was usually separated like that; the ones who stand out, the ones who fit in. I never did.
Not even in elementary school did I fit in with the norms. People said I spent too much time in my head and in my sketchbooks. The only remarkable thing about me was my artistic skill. Which even in my own opinion, could improve so much more.
I was only a sophomore in high school, so of course I was still figuring out where I fit. But sitting in the back of class didn't exactly help with that.
However, it was the only place I could draw and no one would stare or say something. I guess I should've paid more attention in class though, since I'm failing almost all of them.

It was only October of the new school year as a sophomore, and all my classes were set. Science first, PE second, math third, then lunch, history, English, and finally, art.

I would've preferred art at the beginning or middle of the day, believe me, but maybe it was better this way.

I had four class changes before finally getting my schedule set in stone, and today was the last day I'd ever have to deal with going to a different class second and fifth period.

I walked down the long and seemingly endless halls, from science to the gymnasium for PE. The classes had already been assigned, since there were three different versions of the PE class, but I got mine assigned today.

I knocked on the teachers office door, and walked on in. A large man who was shorter than me stood at the desk flipping through papers.

"Ahem," I clear my throat. He turned around and there was his smiling, balding face.

"Ah! You must be the transfer. I'm Mr. Andrews. What's your name?"

I hesitated.

"My name's Vincent Darrins."

"Nice to see you in class, Vincent. So I'm just gonna give a brief summary of the three classes we have to offer and you can pick your poison," he chuckled at his lousy joke. I smirked, even though it wasn't funny in the slightest.

After explaining the classes–yoga, advanced, and wellness–I decided to go into wellness. Yoga, I found, was much more difficult and embarrassing than people took it for. Advanced was too much for me, despite my running every morning.

The wellness class was a combination of both working out and cooking. I always wanted to learn to cook so my mom wouldn't have to.

I walked into the seperate gym used for wellness, and saw a large group of kids standing in the center of the gym and a teacher giving instructions.

The second gym teacher, Ms. Carlson, read aloud.

"Alright so today we will be doing the basic cardio warm-ups, and then we'll be moving on to some arm workouts since its arm day," she announced.

A hand from the front of the cluster of students shot up. I moved closer to the group to take in what was going on.

The kid who had raised his hand was tall, only a few inches taller than me. He wore thin rimmed glasses and had blonde hair to match his hazel eyes.

"Yes, Oliver?" Ms. Carlson said.

"So will we be cooking tomorrow? Just curious," Oliver asked, chuckling a bit with the kids around him. The teacher nodded, exasperated, and caught sight of me standing a few feet away.

"Ah! Hi there! You must be Vincent. Why don't you introduce yourself since we're all here?" She suggested. Way to put me on the spot. I heard Ms. Carlson had no filter and didn't think twice about anything, but I didn't think it stretched to her students.

She was the gym teacher for a reason. Tall, thin, but toned and muscled, or at least what I could see through yoga pants and sweatshirt.

"Umm...," I hated talking. What made her think I wanted to introduce myself?
They all stared with anticipation. As I opened my mouth to talk, Oliver, who was standing almost in front of me spoke up.

"Do you need help? I can help you speak up you know," he said all cheery. I couldn't tell if he was messing with me or being serious.

He stepped up next to me and looked at the rest of the class.

"This is Vincent everybody. He transferred into our class and will be working out with us."

He put his hand up to give me a high five, in which I weakly returned. I may hate speaking, but I'm not helpless.

I looked over at him. He was smiling at me in a kind but odd way.

I retreated towards the teacher as the students went to work out, and saw from the corner of my eye Oliver staring back at me.