[A/N] : Hi, happy national zayn day btw! i found this extra long imagine in my notes and i decided to share it with you guys its perf its long but perf i swear you should read it bye!xx
Everyone get out your ‘History of Central America’ text books and turn to page 521," Mr. Neason drones in his flat, monotone voice, “Would anyone care to volunteer—" Marcel, a lanky boy with thick glasses and hair that is slicked back with what looks like an entire bottle of gel, shoots his hand up enthusiastically. “Ah, yes, Marcel. Would your like to read again today?" Marcel nods vigorously and disgruntled moans fill the classroom. I giggle to myself. Most people find Marcel’s squeaky, nasally voice irritating, but I’ve always thought it was kind of cute. Marcel clears his throat and begins to read. “Chapter 12: The Mayan Civilization. The Mayan civilization is one of the most prestigious tribes of its time…." I look up from my book and glance over at Marcel. As his eyes quickly scan the page in front of him, he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and sniffles. I can’t help but smile at him. I look back at my book as he finishes up the section. "… yet the to this day, historians are still not sure what exactly demolished the thriving civilization of the Mayan tribe." Marcel clasps his hands together and smiles up at Mr. Neason. “Thank you, Marcel, that’s enough for today," he replies, and a collective sigh of relief comes over the classroom. As the bell rings, Mr. Neason turns to the class. “Before you begin to pack all of your things, remember your essays are due tomorrow, and I will not accept them any later." I shove my text book into my backpack and groan. I look over at my friend Anna. “Shit. I haven’t even started that damn essay," I say. She turns to face me. “Look, I have helped you with the past 3 essays. You’re doing this on your own." She grabs her bag and walks out of the class. “Bitch." I say under my breath. I hoist my backpack onto my shoulder and make my way to the door. “(Y-Y/N)?" a voice calls behind me. I turn to see Marcel, his glasses sitting crookedly on his face, standing behind me. “Yeah?" My reply comes out harsh. I feel bad the second I say it. He looks down. “Oh well, I was just going to tell you, uh, if you need help on your essay, I mean not that you would I’m sure you are completely capable of doing it on your own, but uh, if you did, I’d be glad to help you…" He looks up feebly. I smile. “Marcel that would be great. I’ll come sit by you at study hall today." His eyes brighten. I’ve never noticed how green they are before. “Uh, okay, yeah, I’ll see you then!" He looks down and shuffles out of the classroom. I laugh and walk behind him.
I traipse into study hall and see Marcel sitting at a table in the far back corner, engrossed in his Advanced Calculus textbook. I set my stuff on the floor and take the seat beside him. He looks up, startled. “Hey Marcel!" I say as I take out my History textbook. “H-Hi, (y/n)," he squeaks and adjusts his crooked glasses. I plop the textbook on the table and look up at him. He stares back. “So you gonna help me or what?" I ask playfully. “Oh, uh the essay, yes I’m going to help you." I smile at him. “This really means a lot Marcel. I absolutely suck at History. Too many facts." He just nods. “Okay, so let’s get started," I say and look up at the clock on the wall, “You’ve got 32 minutes to help me ace this essay." He smiles.
"Thank you so, so much Marcel!" I exclaim, “I’ll finish it as soon as I get home." I get my things together and begin to walk out of the classroom. “(Y/N) wait!" Marcel shouts. “Uh-huh?" I make my way back to the table we were at. “I’m sure you already have a date because, I mean, well look at you, but uh, the Spring Formal is tomorrow night, you know that I don’t know why I’m telling you, but my mom bought me a suit and everything and I don’t want to tell her that I won’t go… look I don’t have to be your date or anything… but could I pick you up? It would really mean a lot to my mom." I look at him and his gaze quickly darts to the floor. “Marcel," I say quitely, “I would be honored to be your date." His beautiful green eyes shift up to mine. A smile spreads across his face. “R-really?" he asks shyly. “Absolutely," I reply. I pull a sheet of paper and a pen from my binder. “Here. Write your number down. I’ll text you my address tonight." He takes the pen and paper and scrawls out his number with shaking hands. As he hands them back to me our fingers touch, and he pulls back quickly. I smirk. “Thanks again, Marcel," I say, and turn to walk out.
