YouTuber One shots

(TerrorSnuckel and a sprinkle of MiniCat) - Smile

Brock made sure he had everything packed up for the day.

His textbooks. Notebooks. Any other materials he would need.

He looks at his desk, and there sat his trusty camera. That he would always carry around with him to school.

He's the photographer for the school paper. So why wouldn't he carry it around?

Other than being a photographer, he carries it around because he likes taking pictures of his friends. He likes making memories and keeping them. Treasuring them.

"Brock! Hurry up! We have to go already!" Brock hears his mom yelling from outside his room.

"I'm going!" Brock yells back, grabbing his camera and bag then rushing downstairs. Brock takes a look at the lenses, making sure it was clean. His camera was just a Nikon D3300. There are better cameras, but as long as it gets the job done. Gets nice shots. That's all that matters.

He gets in the car, his mom in the driver's seat. And they drive off. "Bringing the camera again dear?" his mom asks.

"Yep!" Brock happily says.

📷📷📷

"Bye mom!" Brock exclaims as he got out of the car. Then proceeds to enter the building.

He didn't see any of his friends waiting for him at the doors like usual, which worried him at first. But didn't mind later on, he assumed they were either already there or just running late.

He quickly searches for his first class which is Science. But as he was running, he bumps into someone and falls.

"Sorry." he mumbles, then looks up to see someone he didn't want to see. A bully. One of the few bullies of the school. "I-I'm really sorry!" Brock exclaims in a panic.

"Tough guy huh? No boyfriends to protect ya?" Darren, the bully, says intimidatingly. He doesn't go around in a group. Because he alone is frightening enough.

"N-none of them are my boyfriends!" I half-yell in defense.

"You do not raise your fucking voice at me. You remember who I fucking am right?!" he yells. But by now Brock is in fear. Unable to move. By now, he's also attracted attention.

He can't find his friends anywhere. Worry and fear gradually grow in him.

"What?! Nothing to say?!" he's even angrier now. Brock just slowly backs away, not wanting to fight. Darren just chuckles sinisterly. "Oh what's this?" he says, grabbing the camera from Brock. "Oh right, you're the photographer. I wonder, would be such a shame..." he says, raising the camera up high. "if someone... drops it." with those words, he drops the camera on the ground, breaking it.

"No! My camera!" Brock exclaims, grabbing the camera from the ground. He hears Darren chuckling, walking away.

The lens have been smashed. So has the screen. The flash fell off. Bits and pieces of metal and the camera are everywhere.

Brock picks up what he can and runs to the restroom. He hides in a stall, and cries.

"What did I do to deserve this?" he mutters, crying his heart out. He was about to miss first period, but decides not to care at that moment.

"Hello?" he hears someone call, an Irish accent lacing his voice.

"Wh-who are you?" Brock replies, his voice weak and quivering.

"No one special, anyway... shouldn't you be in class right now?" he says.

"F-for starters, I'm Brock Ritter. And I know I should be in class and all that. But... my camera's broken because of an asshole..." Brock says sadly.