Ink Flowers

The Punk and the popular asshole

A/N: this is what I've been working on. Enjoy.

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"FUCK" yelled Joe, trying hard not to crash his car into the tree behind him. If only he had payed a little more attention, maybe he wouldn't have almost ran over a student, missed a turn and almost crashed his car in the span of 40 seconds.

But hey, you couldn't quite blame him, could you? Not when his worse nightmare stood a few feet from him, dressed in soft blues and beautiful purples, surrounded by everyone who despised Joe and what he stands for.

So when Joe saw him receiving all the love he did not deserve, it was no surprise all he suddenly cared about was ripping the smile off his face and punch him in the balls. Of course, it would've been better if he hadn't had such a fit in his car, where he could put at risk other college students and said car.

"Oi, are you gonna get off your car or will you stare at the gay kid all day?" Conor's voice shook him out of his cloud of Caspar related thoughts, and he shook his head "why do you think that's an insult" Joe mumbled as he got out of his old car, having little to no trouble with it. That was quite a surprise, considering his car was only a few years younger than him, a 1999 car couldn't be expected to be perfectly functional, but it managed.

Just as Joe managed to get through every day at the university of Roehampton. Not like it was an awful university, on the contrary: beautiful tall and elegant white buildings stood amongst the mass of students, clashing with the green of the gardens that decorated the big space.

It was a good university, with interesting classes and amazing opportunities. The problem? Joe wasn't sure. Maybe it was the people, maybe it was Joe. Or maybe it was Caspar.

Caspar, who didn't even glance his way as Joe and the Maynard's passed by him, trying not to elbow any of his little fans.

"Fucking South African kid" Joe muttered as Jack clapped a hand on his shoulder, only to take it back almost immediately when the little spikes on his jacket dug into his skin. A laugh filled all of the boys mouths as they all laughed at Jack's stupidity "you're such an idiot, carrot boy" Joe said softly.

Conor laughed, and pretended to hug Joe and touch every part of his jacket "oh look at me, I'm Jack and I'm so smart I try to hug a cactus" Joe groaned, throwing his head back and pushing Conor away while mumbling soft fuck you's and piss off's.

Someone hit Joe. It wasn't intentional, and it was not unexpected when you try to walk between dozens of people that gather either around their lockers, Caspar Lee, or the classrooms.

But it happened, someone's elbow hit Joe square in the chest, just where his most regretful tattoo laid: a winged camera. Joe watched intensely as both Conor and Jack held their breaths, preparing themselves for what was to come next.

"S-sorry, didn't mean to hit you Sugg" an older boy said, and Joe flared his nostrils. A wicked grin parted the boys dark skin, the white of his teeth clashing with the brown of his cheeks. He shoved Joe into a locker, hard "oops, didn't mean to that either Sugg"

Joe let himself be pushed into the lockers, let the older boy tap his head forcefully and stand much too close, he let him tug his piercings and he didn't flinch at his every insult.

Inside, he was burning. There was a need to kick him, to punch him in the face and make him bleed. It was searing hot, and freezing cold at the same time, like everything inside him was begging to fight back for once "You take it so well, hedgehog, just look at that"

Jo stayed still, fists clenched in an empty grip, eyes digging holes into the boys skull "Bet you take it up the ass as well, don't you Sugg?" He taped his head harshly again, and Joe bit his tongue to stop himself from saying a word.