No Good

la première fois

September 1997

la première fois

Wednesday. My least favorite day of the week. I've always hated Wednesdays. I don't know why. Maybe it's a strange connection to a childhood trauma. If there's something I have enough of it's childhood traumas. Not anything about my family, however. They have always been amazing. At least my mom has, my dad is usually quiet and holds a cold, intimidating to most, face.
Back to childhood traumas, I've always gotten bullied. It started in elementary school, and it's only gotten worse with time.
I really don't understand why teachers and parents always say that it'll get better with time. It only gets worse. After all, when boys go through puberty, they get stronger. Well, usually they do. I didn't though. I only got taller, but I've always been considered tall. And that completes the chain: being tall, wearing glasses and being a music, TV, cinema and maths/physics nerd doesn't really help the bullying.
Only two years and I'll get out of here always.

I sigh to myself sliding further down in my chair, my slouched posture taking over. I hear some mumbling in French coming from the teacher, but it just comes out as background noise for me as I'm lost in my thoughts, as usual. I don't need to pay attention anyways. That's the advantage of being a smart kid. Although you get bullied, you only need to study the slightest bit and teachers won't tell you off for not paying attention, because they know the grades you get.
I can speak french perfectly. Well, not perfectly, but you get the idea. I even inserted some french in some lyrics I was attempting to write the other day.

Parlez vous
or something like that
Le velo pour deux
or something like that

I've also learnt some french words listening to Arcade Fire's music. They're a Canadian band and Régine Chassagne, one of the singers, has some songs in which the lyrics are in French, mainly in the album 'Reflektor'.

Entre la nuit, la nuit et l'aurore. Entre les royaumes, des vivants et des morts

I grabbed my pencil and started to doodle on my notebook humming quietly, stopping when I felt something hit my arm. I turned around, looking behind my chair and picking up the small folded paper that was thrown at me. I unfolded it curiously starting to read:

'Dude is that Arcade Fire?'

A grin started growing on my face as I discovered that, after all, I wasn't the only one with a good music taste in the middle of all these dumbasses.

Uh, I mean... wonderful people. Yep that's what I meant, don't be rude that's not how your mom raised you.

I looked around to find who was guilty for sending me the paper. This curly haired boy that was always quiet, I believe his name's Michael Gross, gave me a shy smile along with a short wave. I waved back politely until the teacher called our names, warning us to pay attention. I wasn't feeling like getting my first detention so I turned to the front of my desk once again.

Michael had only entered our school this year, so I didn't know him that well. It was still the first month of school, after all. This was the first time I interacted with him. Hm, I guess we could call it la première fois, considering we're in French class. The bell rang and everyone got up starting to leave the classroom.

Looks like I found a friend.

-A/N- IMPORTANT -

Hope you enjoyed that! I'm really sorry for everyone who was expecting something like a Brallon fic, but this won't even be romantic. ALL FEELINGS SHOWN BETWEEN DALLON AND MIKE ARE PLATONIC.
I would never disrespect Mike like that, knowing him personally (kind of). For those who are confused, Mike has known Dallon since elementary school (irl) and then they formed The Brobecks. This fan fiction will be about all that. I'll probably write for a bit in this year, 1997, before doing a time skip to like 1999 some time around their graduation and writing a bit when they formed the band. Same goes for a bit during the band's original members/with Dave Chisholm time and also for when Mike and the other guys leave the band.