THIS PAST WEEK HAS BEEN A ROUGH YEAR FOR LOUIS GIRLS
WILL IT EVER END OMFG.
Welcome to my dis-functional blog. I post just about everyday and I'm ALWAYS FREE TO MESSAGE.. about anything. Please. JUST TALK TO ME. I AM DESPERATE.
Your Point of View-
I glance over at the school’s main nerd, and he’s getting slammed into the lockers, as usual, by the jocks.
His books hit the floor with a loud boom, and his pencils and pens scatter all over the floor as the jocks taunt and tease him.
I feel bad and guilty, so I decide to step in.
"Hey, James." I call out to the head jock.
"Hi, Y/N." he rolls his eyes, already knowing exactly what I’m doing.
"You wanna stop what’s happening here before I do?" I raise an eyebrow.
"I guess." he sighs, motioning towards the other jocks to quit harassing the poor nerdy boy, "Go." he demands, and they all just walk off, giving one last shove at the victim.
James slings an arm over my shoulder and pats my head, “You gotta stop defending these kids.”
"And why would I do that?"
"Cause! We’re toughening them up! That’s all! It’s fun!"
"Maybe fun for you, James, but not fun for them." I gesture towards the nerd whose fixing his glasses and trying to get up from his position on the ground.
"He knows we’re just joking around, right Marcel?" James asks.
The Marcel guy looks up at James, in pure fear, and nods furiously.
I roll my eyes, pushing James’ limbs off of me.
"Just leave him alone from now on. Please?" I beg.
James eyes soften when he looks at me and he lightly nods his head, “Yeah, yeah, okay, we’ll leave him alone.” he says, gently.
James helps up Marcel, and Marcel looks like he might shit his pants.
"Sorry, bro." James says, clapping Marcel’s shoulder.
Marcel just kind of nods awkwardly, and James walks off.
I bend down and start picking up Marcel’s pens and pencils, and he looks down at me in pure shock.
"Y-You don’t have to help me, you’ve already done so much. Thank-Thank you, by the way, for getting them, uh.. to back off." he says, as he bends down and gathers his books.
His voice is deep, and low, and he’s definitely British.
His body freezes when I say his name, but he shakes it off and continues picking up his books and shoving them into his bag.
"Really, Marcel, if you’re having any troubles, just tell me. I’ll be happy to help. No one deserves getting bullied everyday." I tell him, handing him the writing utensils I managed to get off the floor.
"Uh, yeah. Yeah, thank you," he trails off.
"Y/N." I smile.
He blushed like mad, but smiles back, and I must say, he’s pretty adorable, “Thank you, Y/N.”