donnybrook

brooklyn

⚠️Warning⚠️
ᵗʰᶦˢ ᶦˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵃ ᵇᵈˢᵐ ˢᵗᵒʳʸ  ᵗʰᶦˢ ᶦˢ ᵃ ᵛᵉʳʸ ᵍʳᵃᵖʰᶦᶜ ʰᵒʳʳᵒʳ ˢᵗᵒʳʸ ʳᵉᵛᵒˡᵛᶦⁿᵍ ʳᵉᵖᵉᵗᶦᵗᶦᵛᵉˡʸ ᵃʳᵒᵘⁿᵈ ᵗᵒʳᵗᵘʳᵉ
ʰᵉʳᵉ ᶦˢ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶠᶦⁿᵃˡ ʷᵃʳⁿᶦⁿᵍ:
ᵗʰᶦˢ ˢᵗᵒʳʸ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵃᶦⁿˢ ᵍʳᵃᵖʰᶦᶜ ᵗᵒʳᵗᵘʳᵉ  ᵃᵇᵘˢᵉ  ˢᵗʳᵒⁿᵍ ˡᵃⁿᵍᵘᵃᵍᵉ  ᵇˡᵒᵒᵈ ⁽ᵒᵇᵛᶦᵒᵘˢˡʸ⁾  ᵃⁿᵈ ᵐᵉⁿᵗᶦᵒⁿ ᵒᶠ ˢᵘᶦᶜᶦᵈᵉ ᵗʰᶦˢ ᵃˡˡ ᵒᶠᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᵒᵖ ᵒᶠ ᵐʸ ʰᵉᵃᵈ
ᵀʰᶦˢ ˢᵗᵒʳʸ ʷᶦˡˡ ⁿᵒᵗ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵃᶦⁿ:
ʳᵃᵖᵉ  ᵗᵒʳᵗᵘʳᵉ ᵏᶦⁿᵏ  ᵒʳ ˢᵉˣ
Before
September 20th, 2017

Back then, Grayson had approximately one friend and one stalker: a boy named Eric who had fewer friends than him, that being none and wanted Grayson to be the first. He'd gotten his phone number for a project and had been messaging him for days trying to talk to him. They fought a lot, always on Grayson threatening to tell the school about how much of a freak he was being. He was lonely— they both were, but Eric was a creep, and while Grayson wasn't picky, he wasn't desperate.

Grayson blocked it out of his mind; his phone cluttered into the bottom of his bag in case Eric decided to start calling him in class. For now, he watched the girl across from him— and whenever she wasn't looking his direction. Which, was always.

Grayson didn't know the girl's name, and even though he was too embarrassed to even ask, he had the nerve to imagine having a future with her, and the day he would finally start talking to her. Eventually, if possible.

And of course, the karma that came with having something to look forward to: he got in trouble for cheating after he was caught leaning towards her desk— yes, to glance at her paper, but only to see her name.
He didn't get it, and now he had a C- in the class.

Still, for her it was worth it. I mean she wasn't pretty, but he wasn't exactly well-liked, and she didn't recoil towards him sitting near her. The girl was Asian, the colors of her eyes like two black moons watching over the landscape of her poorly chiseled face— but her cheeks were thin against the bone, and her chin caved in-between like how a stem parts a leaf. She wasn't pretty, but she wasn't ugly either.

And it was because of this girl that he immediately decided he didn't like the new student that was placed right in-fucking-between them.

She didn't talk, didn't pay attention, and being someone without friends he felt obligated to like everyone but, her personality was so... inappropriate. The girl— her name was Brooklyn, you don't really get caught looking at papers when the desk is right next to you— she wore the same four sweatshirts and drew on her hands with sharpie, she wore her hair down when it was ratty and would put it up in the middle of class if it was wet from gym.