Fight Back. [Diabolik Lovers Fanfiction]

[Chapter 1; Part 2. Word Count: 424.]

Man, fuck my life. This edgy limousine is comfortable and all, but Jesus, we purposely got ourselves expelled to get away from school. Oh, but of course, some jackass had to come along and ruin it for us two. Unbelievable.

"So, Fera. Ready for another trip to hell?" Devi sarcastically asked, his eyes closed and arms crossed.

"Fuck no. What makes you think I want more packets of useless homework to do? Right, nothing." I scoffed, pulling my hood over my head.

"And I'm not exactly thrilled about having to meet these 'Sakamaki' dudes. Kinda liked it back home, y'know?" I added.

"We've been gone for 24 minutes, so save the complaining for later." Devi yawned, and curled up on the long, cushioned seat.

I only huffed and crossed my arms. I honestly just wanted to get these last few years done and over with.

(~__ Time Skip! __~)

"Hey, driver dude. You got the luggage?" I glanced back at the driver of the limousine.

"Yes, Mr. Delerian."  He said while he started the car. He drove off.

I sighed. "You know which class we're supposed to go to, right Devi?"

"Yep. Unlike you, I have a portion in my brain made specifically for memory." He walked into the school, and I only followed with a scowl.

The halls were HUGE and nostalgic-looking; Vases lined up against the walls, old wallpaper, wooden floorboards and staircases... AKA your average, creepy school.

We eventually made it to the door to our class, and I got in front of Devi. "Stand back, peasant."

"We come from the same family."

"Shut up."

I opened the door and strode in, while Devi lazily followed behind.

"And here they are, Devi and Fera Delerian. Please treat these two with respect."

"Hey, do you have any magic classes here?" Devi asked.

"...No, we don't. Why do you ask?" The teacher, I'm assuming, questioned. She had long brown hair, and brilliant jade eyes. She looked... Oddly perfect, I guess.

"What're the only races that use magic, dumbass? We're sorcerers! Aren't you, like, a teacher or something?" I cut in.

The teacher frowned, and pointed to the back of the room. I guess that's where I'm sitting. "Yes, I am. And that means I deserve the proper respect."

"Well then 'this' is the proper respect you deserve." I slowly waved my hands in the air, and streams of water formed above my head. What'd they read? 

"Fuck You, Brown Hair."

And that, my friends, is how I received detention on the first day.