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Fame! GerIta part 5Ludwig swallowed hard, clearing his throat as he led Feliciano to a table for two by the window, he bit his lip, suddenly unable to look Feliciano in the eye.Fame! GerIta part 5 by MystroTheDefender
“What would you like..?” he asked sheepishly, barely moving his lips.
Feliciano looked up at him, taking a seat, his mouth lulled open slightly, “Uh… just a latte please,” he replied equally quietly.
Ludwig nodded and turned to walk to the counter to order, leaving Feliciano behind to ponder what had happened.
Ludwig hadn’t answered him. Was that a no? Was that a bad thing? He shouldn’t have asked, it was too soon, he hadn’t been thinking, he should have kept his mouth shut, he felt like such an idiot, so embarrassed.
A similar thought track ran through Ludwig’s mind: he should have said something, why hadn’t he? He didn’t want Feliciano to think he didn’t like him. He’d have to reply when he got to the table, he had to say something to let him k
FrUkArthur groaned as he woke in bed, he’d never felt so exhausted, so physically drained, he tried to stretch but flinched instead. He looked down, reaffirming to himself that his legs were indeed still broken and cast.FrUk by MystroTheDefender
“Shit…” he whispered to himself, shifting slowly in bed to pick up the small blue and gold bell that sat on the pine bedside table. Ringing it repeatedly until he heard Francis shout through from the other room.
“I’m coming Arthur.” He sounded somewhat disheartened, but Arthur wasn’t going to bother feeling sorry for him, it was his fault he was in this situation, he should pay for it, the French bastard should be begging at his feet for forgiveness.
Arthur frowned as Francis opened the door, still in his pyjamas with his hair mussed and tangled, “What took you so long?” he snapped.
“I’m making breakfast,” Francis said in return, letting out a small huff and leaning against the doorframe, “
Acceptance. Twiddler. 2.Edward looked around as Harvey led him into the house, he'd never been in a student house before, his dads was rather close to his college, so he'd not even bothered to look at them. Things at home had always been bad, but since he came out he'd been scared to so much as leave his room while his father was home.Acceptance. Twiddler. 2. by MystroTheDefender
He was just... so disrespectful, and violent, he could barely stand it.
His father had been physically abusive before, but he’d never cut him, never left a wound this bad.
"So what happened," Harvey asked as they walked into the kitchen, his eyes fixed on the small spot of blood on Edward's collarbone that stretched down underneath his loosened binder.
Edward shrugged, lifting his arms to cross them over his chest, trying to hide the extent of the damage, "Oh, me and my dad got in a fight, that's all."
"That's abuse you know..?" Harvey said, still frowning, "You could get him put away for doing that."
Edward bit his lip and shook his head, "I couldn't..."
The other man fr
I try frantically to clear my head, ‘imagine a meadow on a sunny day…’ I think to myself, repeating it. I don’t normally get flustered like this, but it is my first day at a new school; a situation that most young adults are intimidated by.
‘Should I take another pill?’ the thought popped into my head.
No, you shouldn’t.
See, I’ve already taken two of them, my doctor does say to take one if I feel overwhelmed, but I think three of them might be too many for one morning.
I count myself as an almost normal teen, only two reasons stop me from considering myself as completely normal. The first being that I am in foster care, (as mentioned in the pre-face) and the second being that I am incredibly smart (also mentioned in the pre-face).
There’s also the depression thing, but I don’t count that as being ‘un-normal’ – my doctor said that the statistics are something like 1 in 4 for mental illness. Whereas the statistics for kids-in-care are more like 58 in 10,000, and that is a big difference.
The smart thing seems to be a personal bias, but still, I’ll count that.
It’s because of these two things that I’m starting this new school, and also the reasons I’m so nervous; Ipsum North is quite a prestigious secondary school, the uniform alone cost my foster parents over one hundred pounds (holy hell right?!). So I guessed that the school would be filled with snobby teens, the sort that I normally can’t help making a snide comment towards, which normally results in me either getting in trouble with my ‘parents’ or getting myself beaten up(always the best part of my day).
I’m scared of making a bad first impression.
I inhale a deep breath as I slide open the old front door to enter the building; the opening hallway is a large, well-lit chasm, with wood panelling and pale green paint, I’m not the type to believe in ghosts, but this place has got to be haunted. I almost cough as the smell of old paper mixed with teenage sweat quickly fills my nostrils (Yuck), I clear my throat in an attempt to clear my head(as if that would work) as I walk down the hall to find my new classroom(yay!). Helen had told me that the form room was number 92. It took me about 5 minutes of searching to find it, she should really have given me better directions.
I can’t help but close my eyes as I knock on the door and wait for an answer, I’m invited in by an old-ish blonde haired guy(his eyes kinda creep me out, I don’t know why.), I assume this is the teacher. He tells me to stand in front of the class; I always found this the most humiliating part of the whole ‘new-school-routine’, it always makes me feel like a calf in a petting zoo or something. I comply and stand next to the teacher’s desk and look out at the students; some just look bored, some are chatting with their desk partners.
“Alright class!” The teacher yells in an attempt to get the class’ attention; it half worked, so the teacher starts talking in the hope that the rest of the class will begin to pay attention soon, “This is Zachary Baker, he’s a new student, I hope you’ll all make him feel welcome. Umm, let’s see…” He looked around the room, I could see people’s eyes darting away, not wanting to be the one stuck with the new kid (Social Suicide!).
He’s finally decided on someone, “Joey, I’m giving you the joyous task of looking after Mr Baker for his first week,” he points me toward a rather pretty brunette girl.
I pull out one of the empty plastic chairs and sit down, I swore I heard the girl whisper “For god’s sake…” before turning and smiling.
“Hi, Zachary wasn’t it?”
I smile as the teacher hands me a writing book, “Zach, actually. You’re Joey?”
She grunts happily and nods, “Short for Josephine, nice to meet you Zach. We’ve got science in 20 minutes, room 233, I’ll show you where it is, and you can hang out with my friends and me at break and lunch if you want,” as she speaks she shoots a large, fake smile at me, I hate fakery, but I’m determined to make friends at this school; it seems to me that because I’m a foster child and have no professional contacts, I don’t have as much of a chance of getting a high paying job in later life as these rich snobs do. This school is the perfect opportunity to meet someone who was from a rich, well-known family, now hopefully that person would be smart as well, but really, that would just be an added bonus.
I nod and am handed a few more brightly coloured books by the teacher, I flick through one of the textbooks as Joey starts to try and engage me in small talk, “So, how come you’ve moved here?”
I sigh lightly, I’ve always hated explaining how I’ve ended up in this mess; it’s only ever made people feel sorry for me, which is something I hate even more. “I’m in foster care, my new ‘family’s’ here, so I had to come here too.”
It appeared on her face; that look that makes my stomach turn, the one that says ‘Foster care? You poor boy.’
Joey cleared her throat, at first I think she might be thinking about what to say next, maybe avoid the subject, but no, she comes out with “Why are you in foster care? If you don’t mind me asking.”
I shake my head dismissively, “I’d rather not talk about it,” I realise this might stop the conversation altogether, so I quickly change the subject, “So what’s it like here, the teachers aren’t all like this bozo are they?”
Joey chuckled, “It’s alright, Mr Kole’s alright once you get used to him, you’ll love our English teacher, she’s amazing… And she’s quite pretty, if you’re into that sort of thing.”
I like Joey, I like her voice, it’s kinda girly, but a little deeper than I’d expect.
I’m a little confused: Joey seems to be moderately interesting; normally the person chosen to lead the new kid around the school would be either the teachers favourite student, or the ‘geek’ of the class. Joey doesn’t really seem to be either, and as we continue talking I notice that what was originally fakery, is starting turning into a slight, but genuine interest.
We leave the classroom a few minutes later, laughing at a joke Mr Kole had made; although it was not supposed to be a joke, it was still bloody funny. I blindly follow Joey as she leads me up some stairs, I’m trying to focus of not sounding like an idiot, and not falling over as we walk.
“233 is just round the corner at the top, here,” she turns as we reach the top of the stairs and she opens the door immediately to her right, she led me to my seat, between her and a tall, blonde haired boy. “This is Bruce, he’s my best friend, so be nice.”
I smile as I hold out my hand, “Zach Baker, nice to meet you.” Bruce takes my hand and shakes it firmly, nodding happily.
The lesson is centred on combustion, a subject I find incredibly fun, however I don’t get to participate in the practical part of the lesson (Damn it). The teacher, Mr Tracie, pulls me aside to ask ‘if I was doing all right’, “I know how the first day can be rather stressful, especially in your situation.” I find myself frowning; ‘your situation’…
He continues despite my obvious discomfort.
“I realise that being from a children’s care home, especially a poorly funded one, might make you feel self-conscious around all these public-schoolers, but-”
I cut him off there; I don’t buy into all that elitist sounding drivel.
“-Sir, I fail to see why my situation would make me anymore stressed. I’m fine, but thank you for your concern.” Mr Tracie smiles gloomily and tells me to go back to my seat, so much for getting people to like me.
I walk back to my seat and sit down, “He’s a little rude isn’t he. Did you hear him?” I mumble to Joey and Bruce, as they scribble down notes about the qualities of magnesium.
Joey looks up at me from her work “Yeah, subtlety’s not his strong point, not a nice person; he’s had Bruce on the verge of tears before.” Bruce’s jaw drops and he slaps Joey playfully on the arm “Oi, you’re not supposed to tell people that!”
It was the first time I had heard him speak; he had a lovely singsong voice that seemed to invite conversation. “Why was that then?” I asked, trying to not sound too interested.
Bruce shrugs, looking down at the floor “Nothing really, just some stupid thing.”
Joey chuckles, another oddly girly noise, “Bruce worked for ages on this project in year 7, and Mr Tracie said it was crap.”
Bruce starts to comb his hair with his fingers as he explains, “Actually he said ‘I’m going to give you an A because you’re obviously the only person here who didn’t get any help’…”
I laugh; I can’t help it, “Oh that’s horribly funny.” I start copying notes from Joey and try to strike up a conversation with Bruce, we seem to be getting along rather well until I wander onto the subject of Bruce’s home life and his answers start to become short and snarky- I don’t want to cause an argument on my first day, so I drop the topic. What I can guess from the answers Bruce gave me was that he is an only child from a rich family whose parents don’t pay a lot of attention to him. He seemed like the perfect person for me, as my contact. We have a lot in common and Bruce seems to have a nice ‘feel’ about him; trusting and friendly combined with intelligence, and not that snobby kind of intelligence that I had expected, but a sort of timid intelligence, as if he’s not aware of how smart he really is. He’s perfect. I smile as Bruce tells yet another terrible joke; “What do you get when you cross an elephant and a rhino? El-if-i-no.” The joke makes Joey laugh loudly (apparently she loves terrible jokes), coaxing a ‘Shhh’ from the teacher, we dipped our heads, almost synchronously, and we continue talking in hushed tones.
“How do you come up with those?” Joey whispers, grinning widely, “You have different ones every day, you can’t be making them up.”
Bruce chuckles (Singsong, love it!), he’s still scribbling notes in his incredibly neat script, “Mum and dad got me a new laptop after their trip to Sweden, I get downloads from a website.” I would make a comment about Bruce being spoiled, but I realise from the boy’s tone that it was a pity present, my best guess would be that the poor kid had been left pretty much on his own for a week or so, probably in the care of some semi-evil relative. It occurred to me that Bruce’s use of humour was as a defence mechanism – I know I do it myself. I smile to myself; Bruce really is perfect.
I’m getting ahead of myself now, I can’t help it, if I find someone who I like who’s nice in return, suddenly my mind starts thinking we’re best friends. God I’m an idiot.
I didn’t even realise I did this until after I started taking those mood equalisers.
If I were to cross one of my ‘best friends’ in the street they would ignore me. I didn’t realise that the reason they ignored me was because they didn’t care.
I guess I just kinda fade into the background, and one of the things about depression is that you want to fade into the background. You want to stop existing.
So it would suit me perfectly that people who I hung out with would treat me as if I didn’t exist.
But when I started taking the mood equalisers I realised the truth.
That I didn’t want to not exist.
So anyway, we fumbled our way through science, or more correctly; Bruce and I did the science and Joey fumbled.
Bruce would smile at Joey when she got something wrong, saying “Silly little rich girl,” in a playful baby voice. I could tell my presence was hampering the conversation, but I couldn’t really help that. I was determined to have some real friend so help me god!
“Bruce!” She says, frowning as she hits him playfully. This seems to be a normal practice between these two, gentle physical abuse. Is that normal, between friends? It’s not something I’ve heard of.
“Don’t be so sexist!” she continues.
“I’m not being sexist, just pointing out facts,” Bruce reaches out and tries to ruffle Joey’s hair, and she waves her arm furiously in an attempt to stop him.
Zach Baker POV.
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Noun (see also ‘Mystro’, ‘Sarah’, ‘Kitty’)
1. A DeviantArt user, focused mainly on writing with occasional ventures into drawing.
‘Mystro’ is a generally friendly and quiet individual who grows attached to people too quickly, often mimicking them in an attempt to better the relationship (though this practice usually stops after a few weeks). Eager to help and defend said people in any argument that may arise.
1. A fundamentally selfish person who is easily distracted by their own interests.
2. This ‘human’ is slightly xenophobic (will make fun of your country of origin).
Most commonly found in England.
1. Encourages both positive and negative feedback.
2. Is reluctant to end comment threads.
My fav people:
<because of.... EVERYTHING!! WORDS CANNOT DESCRIBE!!
<My Concubine <3
<my favourite human.
<the co-creator of and a very lovely person
<fellow nerdfighter and co-creator of TeddyxTwoface, also, a very lovely person ;3
<My significant other <3
<My not-so-little-anymore sister
<My oldest IRL friend
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