High | tronnor au

I watched on as a tall, skinny boy walked in the classroom, his hair was gelled up into a perfect, yet, curly quiff. His eyes were a piercing blue and he was dressed in all black. I noticed his hands in his pockets, his face held a hard stare but his lip was in between his teeth, his eyes looked tentative. I noted he was nervous, typical wanna-be bad boy.
What I failed to notice at the time was the baggy of weed poking out from his Jean jacket and the blunt held between the back of his ear, or the fact I was wrong he wasn't nervous because it was his first day but because he was, high.