Chapter 1
Chapter One: Broken Record or Old Player?
MALE POV
I stretch my muscles, content vibes trickling down my spine. MCR blasts through my headphones and I bob along. I swing into line, which seems to be quite empty. Which is a slice, because I hate long breakfast lines. The cornflakes are always so darn soggy. I trudge down the line, and my eye hazes out again. I rub my eye, only to stop and cuss. My eyeliner is finished. I pull out my phone, and groan. I guess it's two thousand five now. I snatch a napkin off the counter. I smudge the other side and appraise my appearance. Not bad, not bad. I dart out and grab my cornflakes, and round the edge of the nylon rope for the line markers. My body is shocked alive earlier than expected. Nearly frozen milk is trailing down my chest and my jaw is weak and hanging. Oh, what do we have here? One of the popular boys are glaring me down, his immaculate brown hair in a buzzcut. I sneer and glance over my shoulder. The last bowl is now all over my new band shirt. Are you kidding me? This was my new favorite shirt! "Watch where you're going, freak." I close my eyes and breathe. I envision locks, closing and locking my emotions deeper into my mind. "Hey, freak! I was talking to you, are you deaf?" Soft flerken, warm flerken, deadly ball of fur, hungry flerken, vicious flerken, purr, purr, purr. My feet have left the tiles, repeat, the feet have lost all traction! Angry green eyes bore holes in my navy blue ones. I stick my tounge out and he growls, wiggling me like a limp noodle, "In your dreams, faggot." I go to lick his hand, just to fuck with his mind. Before you ask, I'm a Slytherin, so I do enjoy screwing with people like him. It's not because I WANT to lick him. He's gross, and I don't want to know where his hands have been. It's simple, he's an ass, and I want to make him to know his place. Why? Because I'm not the only one who's sick of... "IT LICKED ME! SHAWN, GET ME SOME HAND SANITIZER!" I get dropped in a heap, triumph glowing through my mind. Ha, you never saw that coming, did you? I stand up, and everyone stares in horror. Haha, I woah now, hey! My feet have lost traction again, and this time I can't see who has me. I squirm like a captured snake, but this individual is stronger than Max was. I manage to slap something, and an enraged roar sends me to the floor. Ah, that was Shawn's face. I scramble across the floor military style, but someone steps on my hand. It makes a loud crack, and my eyes water. I curse with zest and fire, rolling onto my back. Then, horror sets in. A hand grabs my hand at an awkward angle. In the feverish swears and tears, I notice it beginning to cut open. I yank my hands away, and stare at the sickly, limp hand. I clutch it to my chest. I glance at the sterile white ceiling, then at the walls, muttering. It's broken, it's full on broken. If I hadn't taken an aspirin for my headache this morning...
"You all right?" I glance up and my face drains. Ah shit, hello senpai. I try to pull a tough act, until I bump my hand.
