You were in English class, attempting to write a five paragraph Jane Schaffer essay on Shakespeare. Writing essays were your worst skill, let alone Jane Schaffer essays. You struggled to write words onto the paper, straining your brain to actually think of something to put onto the paper, but your attempt was in vain. Finally taking five minutes minutes to write just one sentence, you were able to conclude your essay. You looked up at the clock above the white board in the front of the room; it left you with five minutes to spare.
Your lips curled into a smile as you stood up and walked to the teacher's desk. You aligned the two papers you used together and with a strong punch, the two sheets were stapled together. You quickly handed your essay to your teacher with shaky hands, hoping he wouldn't think it was too terrible, and shuffled back to your desk.
You sat softly into the desk, careful not to make the least bit of noise because some people were still writing. You looked around the room, glancing at everyone in front of you until your eyes rested on one of the people who were still writing, more specifically Alfred Jones. Your previous smile grew into a slightly wider one at the sight of him. He tapped his pencil against his head, his chin, and anywhere accessible.
Though you couldn't see it, his face was covered in panic. You both knew that this essay was going to count as a major part of your overall grade, but you had nothing to panic about because you had an A; if you got a bad grade on it, it would've gotten you, at the worst, a B-. Alfred on the other hand had everything to worry about. His grade was already slipping, and if he failed the essay, it would've earned him a place in summer school; and he really didn't want that.
Alfred continued to tap excessively on different things, fearing the second the last bell of the day decided to ring. Then he suddenly froze in place, his eyes on the clock; only one minute left. He quickly scribbled down any words that came to mind, not caring if it might've been about hamburgers or sleeping. And in the middle of his last sentence, the bell rang loud and clear.
"Nooooooo!" He cried, his hands balling into fists as he held them up and looked to the ceiling in a playfully dramatic way. The teacher sighed, irritated by Alfred's way of trying to be funny. "Just finish your sentence, Mr. Jones."
Alfred showed his teeth in his infamous grin. "Thanks, Teach!" He said happily as he quickly wrote down the last few words to his sentence.
You witnessed the event in the background, neither the teacher nor Alfred noticed that they weren't alone. You quickly walked out of the room, undetected and unseen, before anything else could've happened. Once entering the half empty hallway, your feet moved faster to get to your locker, not wanting to stay on campus a minute longer.
When you caught sight of your locker, you rushed to it. You could tell it was yours from so far away because there were too many sticky notes to count on it. When you approached your locker, you prepared yourself for the worst. Every day, people would put sticky notes on your locker, either to insult you or compliment you, but there weren't many of the latter.
Your eyes were closed as your hand reached for one at random. When your eyelids fluttered open, you found that the note you were holding was from none other than Alfred Jones. You sighed; his noted were always the same.
Kill yourself. It read in his sloppy handwriting. You didn't tear up, nor did you get emotional over the note. It was a normal routine, and you had gotten used to the pain of having your crush, the most popular guy in school, tell you to kill yourself.
You looked up at the rest of the notes posted onto your locker, and your eyes widened the slightest bit. The notes read different messages than the days before; they were all positive notes arranged in a circle. There was no spot in the circle for Alfred's note to fit, so you figured that it was in the dead center of it. You didn't notice, but a tear started to sting your eye. You quickly wiped it away with the back of your hand before proceeding to peel the sticky notes off your locker.
The sound of footsteps drawing near caused you start peeling them off faster. You didn't want anyone, more specifically teachers, to see them in fear that they would send you to therapy. Blast it! Why must there be so many sticky notes?! You mentally cursed the people who put them there in the first place. The footsteps grew heavy and they slowed as they drew nearer; whoever it was, they were behind you. You unlocked the combination lock and slowly opened the locker's door. Whoever was walking in your direction, they had no intention of leaving.
You pulled your English book out of your bag and shoved it into your locker, retrieving the textbook for tomorrow morning's first class from the depths of your locker. It disappeared into your backpack just as the notes that were stuck to your locker vanished into the locker where the rest of them were kept.
Why isn't this person leaving?! You were sure there was someone behind you; you could feel eyes burning circles into the back of your head.
You shakily closed your locker and locked it with a quick click. You slowly turned to face whoever was there, but as soon as you had turned around fully, you were pushed back against the row of lockers and pinned there. Your eyes shut as you made impact with thin metal, and your eyes shot open when you felt a tight grip on your shoulder. Your (e/c) orbs were met with bright blue ones, and you knew exactly what fate would befall you then.
"Hey, nerdy," he spoke with poison and his lips curled into a smirk. "Have anything planned for later?"
What? You were honestly confused. Never before had he asked that, but you shook your head anyways.
"Good, 'cause you're stuck with-" But he wasn't able to continue because he was cut off by your English teacher.
"Mr. Jones, let go of Ms.____," he commanded coldly and shot daggers at him from behind his glasses. Almost immediately, Alfred's grip on you loosened but still didn't let go.
"What Mr. Jones was about to say is irrelevant at the moment," your English teacher said. "Alfred needs tutoring because, as you may or may not know, he's failing my class. So, I've assigned you to tutor him."
Your eyes widened as a tint of pink crept onto your cheeks. "T-tutor?! H-Him?!" You yelped with your jaw somewhat hung open. "I could never tutor him..!"
You shook your head, thinking it was just a hallucination, a dream. You even pinched yourself with your free hand, but no matter how many times you closed and opened your eyes, they were still standing in front of you. You didn't notice but Alfred had gotten a little too close for comfort; your mind was only focused on what your English teacher had told you.
"Ms.____, you must! If you don't Mr. Jones here would need to take summer school," your teacher tried to reason, but who cares if he got into summer school? Certainly not you! Well, part of you.
You bit your lip and debated the answer in your head. Yes or no? Yes or no?! YES or NO?! Without thinking, you screamed out an answer, "YES! I'LL DO IT!"
Your teacher smirked and pushed his glasses up, light glinting off it. "Perfect choice, Ms.____." Was that...mischief in his smile? You quickly shook it off, and your gaze drifted to Alfred, who was still at an uncomfortable closeness to your face. Soon, you realized the grave mistake you made. Tutor the guy who bullied you for most of your high school life?! Tutor the guy you had a crush on?! What was going on through your head?!
Your teacher turned to Alfred and gave him the same smirk he gave you. "Now, Mr.Jones. don't do anything that would hurt Ms.____ here. You know how delicate she is, and besides, it would immediately reserve you a seat in my summer school class," he said as if he weren't planning anything at all. Alfred returned the smirk only slightly as his blue eyes turned to look into your (e/c) ones.
"Alrighty, Teach. I'll do my best to not punch the nerd in the face," he said in the most dastardly sing-song voice that sent chills down your spine.
Noticing your uncomfort, your teacher added another sentence before he left. "Make sure to set regular study sessions, you two! And, Mr.Jones," he said and drew Alfred's attention again. "Please let go of Ms.____ and let her have her space."
Your teacher then turned the other direction, but before leaving, he spoke another sentence. "And keep Ms.____ out of harm's way, alright? Wouldn't want anything to happen to your tutor."
And he walked to the teacher's lounge, leaving the two of you to your business. You were looking down at your feet and playing with your thumbs awkwardly while Alfred, on the other hand, looked straight at you waiting for you to say something. When silence filled the atmosphere between you two for minutes, he finally broke it.
"So... Are we going to head to your place or somethin'?" He asked, and you looked into his cerulean eyes that continued to send chills down your spine. You nodded quickly and clutched your backpack straps tightly.
He nodded also and started walking towards his own locker down the hall to retrieve his things. Once in front of the locker that was named #245, Alfred quickly unlocked the lock, took his English textbook out of his backpack and shoved it into his locker, and brought his first period's textbook out to have it put into his backpack. His gaze then went to you, who was waiting intently for him to finish.
"W-what?" You whispered, noticing he was looking at you, and tried not to let your voice to quiver.
"What are we going to study at your house? Of course I need to bring the proper books for the subjects, aren't I?" He replied, a tinge of annoyance in his voice.
You nodded. "U-um, whatever you're failing in, I guess," you whispered again, a little louder this time.
"Alright then," he mumbled to himself as he pulled out most of the textbooks from his locker and put them into his backpack, including the English one from earlier. The only one he didn't stuff into his backpack was his American History textbook.
"Hey...," you started and got a 'Hm?' as a response. "Why aren't you taking American History? You took most of your textbooks, and I, thinking that you were failing in those classes, was wondering why didn't you take the History one."
"I'm actually good at History, believe it or not. No one knows that but the teacher, not even my friends or my classmates, so consider yourself special," he shot a smirk at you and added, "Don't tell anyone or you're dead meat."
You nodded frantically, and as Alfred said, considered yourself special. He shut the door to his locker, turning the lock a couple times randomly, and started walking towards the entrance of the school. You followed close behind him, almost running into his back when you noticed he stopped in the middle of the hall.
"Why have we stopped?" You asked, looking up at him.
"You didn't forget anything, did you?" He responded, sounding almost...afraid. It was an unfamiliar thing to hear from him; you always knew him as the cheerful, funny, and brave guy.
"No... Why?" You were confused. What had gotten into him?
"Hey, Alfred!" A voice from afar called.
Alfred's eyebrows furrowed, and he cursed under his breath. He looked around frantically and found the janitor's closet. His eyes brightened and he started to push you in the closet of cleaning supplies. "Stay here for a little bit, okay?" he ordered and closed the door before you could protest. You pressed your ear to the door upon hearing familiar voices, one of them belonging to Alfred.
"Alfred, you free tonight?" A male voice asked, sounding as if it belonged to one of Alfred's friends Gilbert. "Toni und I are going to zhis awesome club later!"
"E-eh, sorry, dude. I'm kinda busy..," Alfred replied. You could feel him pressing his body against the door, trying to keep it shut in case you tried to open it.
"Totally unawesome of you," Gilbert sounded disappointed. That is, until he noticed his American friend pressing himself against the door. "Are you hiding somezhing, Alfred?" You could practically hear the smirk in his voice.
"N-no! N-not at all!" Alfred replied anxiously, hoping his friend would shrug it off.
But he didn't. "You're hiding somezhing. I can tell," Gilbert's eyes narrowed as he tried pushing Alfred out of the way.
But he wouldn't let him. No matter how hard Gilbert tried, Alfred wouldn't move. Not only because Alfred was fighting back and that he was the best football player on his team, but because he was pretty heavy. You could hear Gilbert grunting and groaning with each push. You almost laughed at the Prussian's troubles, clamping a hand over your mouth to stifle your giggles.
"Ugh," Gilbert groaned. "I give up! Vhatever you're hiding, I don't vant to know aout anymore!"
"Dude, I wasn't hiding anything in the first place," You heard Alfred chuckle.
"Vell, I'll see you later. I hope you vill be able to join us some ozher time," Gilbert said a little more cheerfully, and you could hear the sound of footsteps getting farther away each second. Then you heard Alfred let out an exasperated sigh and the turning of the doorknob.
And you, pressing against the door, fell forward into a pair of arms once the door opened. You looked up to see cerulean eyes framed by glasses, and your eyes turned wide and your face heated up. "U-uh... I-I...," you stumbled over your words. And before you knew it, your face leaned in closer to his, your lips only centimeters away from each other. Your eyes closed and your lips slightly puckered. You leaned farther in and--
"Gah!" You screamed as your butt made contact with the floor.
"Don't ever come near me like that again!" He yelled, a deep red blush covering his face. "And watch where you're falling! Jesus!"
You picked yourself up and dusted your uniform off. You grabbed your backpack and looked down at your feet. "Sorry. I don't know what I was thinking. I wasn't in my place to do that," you whispered.
"Yeah, whatever. Let's just head to your place," he mumbled and started walking off.
"W-wait!" You called and he turned around. "Could we, um, just do this at the library or something? I don't feel comfortable with taking you to my house..."
"Sure," he shrugged. "but wouldn't the library be a little bit crowded? Plus, we couldn't talk that much there anyways, so how could you teach me all the things I need to know?"
He had a point there, and you couldn't disagree with it. You had no other choice but to take him to your apartment where you two could successfully study. You sighed and nodded, letting him know that he had a point and that they should just go to your place.
"Or we could go to mine, knowing now that you don't feel comfortable with me coming over," he suggested. Maybe you two could do that. Maybe going to his house would be a better thing to do than going to yours.
"Yeah... Alright. I guess we could do that," you replied shyly, wondering what his house and family would be like. But then your face began to heat up again. Alfred would be bringing home a girl! And you would meet his family! And then his family would jump to conclusions that he was dating you! You, you of all people! You shook your head frantically as that thought came to you, trying desperately to get it out of your head.
"Hey, what's wrong?" He turned to face you only to see that you were shaking your head and a blush dusted your cheeks. "Is that a bad idea?"
"N-no!" You replied quickly. "It's okay! We'll just head to your house, okay?" You put on a fake smile and lied through your teeth. He gave a hesistant nod before walking on with you following behind.