MemeNE One-shots (MemeulousxWillNE)

17. Falling

Crisp snow crunched underneath the small boy's feet as he slowly walked towards the school building. He had to be careful since the ice underneath the white layer was slippery and he didn't want to break any bones before the holidays. It was his second-to-last year of high school so basically the last time when he could truly enjoy the days before Christmas without worrying about his final exams.

He was less than half a mile away from the school, its pathway under his shoes. One last corner and-

"George!" A familiar voice came from somewhere to his right, making him snap his head in its direction.

Before he could locate where it came from, a perfectly shaped snowball smacked him in the stomach. The sudden blow made him stumble backwards, he had to get his balance back so he didn't fall on his butt.

"Alex, you asshole." He murmured with a playful smile, already crouched down and picking up snow. "Wherever you're hiding... I'll find you." He chuckled and gave the front yard a quick scan.

There he was- Alex hidden behind a tree on the left, couple feet away from the building, his camouflage not so accurate, thanks to his pastel blue puffer jacket. He should've put on his white one, George thought.

When the dirty blonde was ready for his attack he caught movement from the corner of his eye. Behind the tree opposite from Alex's stood James in all his six foot -and still growing- glory, aiming at the newcomer.

"I love traps." George sarcastically mumbled as he shook his head, breaking the snowball in two.

He wasn't fast enough, though. James hit him on his shoulder as his own snowballs flew in two directions - one hit, one didn't. Poor Alex's hat was gone as he stood there wide-eyed from the accuracy of George.

Did the fucker try to aim for his face?

James, seeing the defeated Alex, started laughing and forgot about the threat that was George Andrew himself. The latter formed another cold white ball in the meantime and took a step closer.

"Bull's-eye." George chuckled as white frost covered James' neck.

The tallest of the trio straightened his back and shot George a glare. "It's on, bitch."

Calling what came in George's way from then on 'fusillade' was an understatement. Snow was flying everywhere, the boys happy that they didn't actually have a first period - they usually did their homework in their free one that's why they came this early anyway- else they would've been late as hell. But hey, at least they weren't in the way of other teens.

Although, they didn't keep a score, and James and Alex were no longer a team, George was sure he was winning. He managed to find cover behind a dumpster where he could duck down whenever his reflexes told him to do so.

At some point they heard the faint sound of the bell ringing in the building, as some late students rushed towards it.

George knelt down once more, arranging his pyramid of snowballs, counting them - he'd gathered more than enough against his two friends. When he rose to his feet again, he abruptly felt someone's body collide with his from behind. He fell onto his stomach, gloved palms making contact with the ground. He wouldn't have slipped if the curb weren't covered with snow, that's for sure.

He let out a a silent 'fuck' as the other person spoke up. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry." They apologised, circling George and crouching in front of him.

The small boy sat on his heels, ready to get up when a hand was extended towards him. "Here."

He gladly took it, realising who it belonged to. A guy from year thirteen stood in his personal space, hand securely gripping his own.

"Are you okay?" The boy, whom George had seen roaming the hallways of the school with his mates before, eyed him with concern, cheking for possible injuries. "I'm so sorry, again. I didn't mean to push you, I was just in a hurry and I accidentally slipped." He smiled sheepishly and finally let go of the younger's hand.