I love Franziska so much but I'm not really a character analysis person?? If a character similar to me then it's obviously easier but like. Even when I find a character extremely interesting, I just kinda go read long ass posts about them and go "YEAH. I agree with this" lmao

I'm Not Your Project

Big thanks to @jet-apologistmybadhomies for introducing me to this rarepair!

Summary: Star has been watching this nerd try to navigate high school for a while. Growing tired of the secondhand embarrassment, she decides to try to show Azula how to be one of the cool kids.

Notes: Could be the start of a longer fic, whenever I get back into those.

Honestly, she is pretty pathetic if Star did say so—something of a trainwreck that she would very much love to look away from but can’t. It’s almost fascinating to watch Azula navigate any given classroom. More so to watch her try to function in the hallways or the cafeteria. 

The best part is that she thinks that she does it well. 

She doesn’t understand why people don’t want to sit with her at lunch, let alone why people find her insufferable to be around. 

At one point Star had been damn near convinced that the girl didn’t even realize that people were laughing at her. She certainly hadn’t shown it. 

At least she hadn’t shown it for the longest time. 

Star supposes that she should have guessed that Azula was well aware that people made fun of her. That they like to talk about her behind her back—particularly TyLee’s friends on the cheer squad. She’s a clever girl, of course she is smart enough to know when people are taking jabs at her. 

She was bound to break and some sick part of Star was looking forward to seeing it happen. In spite of the insults and rumors being thrown her way, she has always been aggravatingly arrogant. She has this air about her, this superiority complex that is most certainly rooted in her family’s riches. The riches that buy her the fancy, name brand clothes that she dresses herself in; those pretty plaid skirts and those silk button down blouses. Sometimes Star wonders if she thinks that she is going to be attending a business meeting in some office rather than a mundane and pointless lecture in a high school classroom. 

Any other student would take an instant win in the popularity department wearing makeup the way she does on a face that is already pretty. Any other student would climb the social ladder with a father to buy them the newest gadgets. The ones that Azula definitely has but doesn’t dare bring into the classroom because she actually likes learning. Equally, she enjoys tattling on Star when she notices her texting under the desk.

She reprimands people for snacking in class and points out when teachers forget to collect homework or give pop quizzes. She, with her nose stuck up and chin held high and haughty, tells people to keep quiet and get to studying when the teacher leaves the classroom for a minute. 

All in all she is unbearable and it is quite funny to watch people let her know that, even if she is unphased.

Was unphased. 

 It is Chan, Ruon, and a few of Star’s fellow cheerleaders. They have been lingering for some time, waiting for Azula to get to her locker and Star has been watching from the water fountain that she is longer invested in. 

Azula reaches her locker and Chan moves in first. As soon as she opens it, he slams it shut on her. “You don’t need your books. You raise your hand so much that the teachers just ignore your annoying ass.” 

She inhales through her nose with a look of exasperation. A look that causes the gaggle of cheerleaders to take a step back. Even Ruon flinches. And it occurs to Star that this is one of, if not, the very first time that anyone has ever brought the insults directly to Azula’s face. 

“Actually it takes a few points off of the participation percentage of the grading rubric for every time a book is forgotten.” 

Star’s face flushes on her behalf.

“And what then? Your daddy will beat the fuck out of you like he does your loser brother? Did he drop out yet?” Chan pauses. “He’s cooler than you though; he cuts class to have a smoke in the boy’s room.” 

Azula sniffs. “He’s throwing his life away. I will have to speak to him about that before he ends up like you—brainless, useless, too stupid to function. Perhaps if you brought your books to class you wouldn’t have less brain cells than the ounces of protein that you put in one of your workout shakes.” She taps her pointer upon her chin. “Honestly, at this point, your mind is so starved that you might be able to acquire more brain cells from just  touching a book.”  

Chan’s lip twitches. “By the way, your new glasses suit you. They make you look like professor Hama!” 

“You look prettier without them.” Ruon declares.

“Which is bad news for you because you aren’t pretty without them.” 

“That’s not what you said when you asked me for a date.”

“In junior high school.” Can shrugs. “Some people get more attractive when they hit puberty…”

Ruon jabs at himself and gestures to the cheerleaders. 

“Some people get less attractive. Some people still have fat, baby cheeks.”  

The cheerleaders snicker. 

Azula shoves him aside and opens her locker, slapping his arm away when he goes to shut it again. “Some people don’t need to use steroids to win wrestling matches. And Sokka still beats you every time.” 

“Fuck off!” He gives the locker a solid kick. 

“Steroids do give people tempers.” 

Even from a distance, Star can see the vein bulging in his head as Ruon pulls him back with a, “we should probably head to practice if we don’t want to hear coach Zhao get on one of his rants.” 

And that is that. 

Star had seen the show and she was ready to begin her walk home. It had been a pretty good one today, lots of witty zingers from both sides. She’ll have something to gossip with her friends about over lunch. 

But Azula doesn’t leave. She stares into her locker for the longest time, until the hallway is clear except for the two of them. Star backs into the water fountain alcove and watches Azula shut her locker, drop her backpack, and slide to the floor, knees drawn up to her chest. 

Star isn’t sure which of the comments had coaxed her to finally cry. If she had to guess it was either that final comment about her baby face or the one about her father. Maybe the whole thing had done her in—a steady build up of tears just waiting to come forward after Chan and his posse left. 

Star groans to herself. 

She finds her legs carrying her over to Azula before she can stop them. She can’t say why they had started moving to begin with. By the time that she decides that she would very much rather stick to talking behind the girl’s back like everyone else, she is already standing in front of Azula who offers a very silent curse. 

“What do you want? Let me guess, you think that you’re clever and that you can outdo Chan?” She roughly swats the tears from her face. “At least he has it in him to say things to my face. What do you do? I know what you say about me…” She drops into a mumble.  

Star sees hatred in her eyes. A roaring fire. She almost turns around with a gruff, ‘nevermind’. Instead she lifts her hands. “I was actually going to ask you if you were okay.”

“Why would you do that?”

Star shrugs. “I’m tired of the secondhand embarrassment that I get every time you talk.” 

“That can easily be solved by minding your own business. Do you know what happens when a fly lingers on the wall for too long?”

“I’m not on the wall anymore.” Star points out. 

“Yes.” Azula nods. “You’ve decided, instead, to buzz around me. I have good aim.” 

“What if I told you that I want to help you?” Of course, this may well backfire and she is only tanking her own social standing. 

“What if I told you that I’m not interested in being your project? I don’t want a ridiculous wardrobe change and a ridiculous makeover. And I’m allergic to contact lenses.” 

“The glasses do suit you.” 

“Right, because I remind you of Hama or a librarian or whatever figure that best sucks the joy out of situations.”

“Because they’re kind of cute.” Star replies. “They complete the whole sophisticated look that you’re going for.” She studies Azula’s face for any sign of lightening up. It doesn’t even go from dark to dim. “For what it’s worth, I always liked your soft face, it’s cute.”

And cuter still with that little half pout she responds with. The way that she furrows her brows. “Then what? You want me to go to trashy parties and get drunk when I could be at home preparing for my future. Unlike half of the people here, I have goals and aspirations…”

“You don’t have to get drunk.” 

“I don’t have to attend stupid parties that I am pointedly excluded from anyhow.” 

“I’ve just invited you.” 

“You aren’t worried that I’m going to show up and then call the cops?” She folds her arms across her chest. 

“I’ll take that risk.”

“I won’t. I don’t do parties. The music is vulgar and tactless and the food is junk and the company is worse still.” 

“Alright, then you pick the activity.” Just being seen with her has got to count for something. At least Star hopes that her own stellar reputation will extend social points to Azula based on proximity alone. “Oh! How about this!? My mother owns a spa and makes her own skincare and makeup products. Would you like to have a spa day?” She pauses and adds. “After you finish studying or whatever.”

Azula seems to consider. She presses her lips into a thin line and narrows her eyes harder than she does when looking at one of her textbooks. “Fine. But I am not your pity project.” 

“How does ‘friend’ sound? You won’t be my project, you’ll be my friend.”

“Let’s see how this spa day goes.” 

And Star has to laugh. Azula has more audacity than anyone Star has ever met. Even as she wipes the last few tears away with the back of her sleeve. Even when she gives a little sniffle. She still stands tall, with her head held high. 

She has fight, she has spunk. Maybe that’s why Star found herself wandering up to her. “It will go well. We are going to be good friends.” And from there, who knows. 

“You do realize that…”

“You might drop me to the bottom of the social ladder instead of me helping you climb it?” She quirks a brow. “Well somebody has to shake the status quo, somehow.” Star swears that she catches a flicker of a smirk, a flash of amusement in Azula’s eyes. 

This year will be interesting indeed.

I just haad to say thank you for the free serotonin that you have provided me with through the last artist sukuna post

it's just... ✨beautifull✨ we are slowly building up this au

BUT CAN YOU IMAGINE HIM GETTING MORE AND MORE FRUSTRATED WITH THE LACK OF ATTENTION WERE HE'S KIND OF POUTING

and then there need to be a project done in which you have the option to work in groups and NO MATTER WHAT this proud cherry haired idiot WILL work alone but geto won't he came to y/n and they really need to work in a group if they want to get this done so of course y/n is happily gonna agree to the offer of geto to work together they do be viben after all which ultimately leads to the fact that y/n is gonna give sukuna even less attention (it probably doesn't even get on his nerves that much that y/n works with geto its just the lack of attention and ultimately time spending with you that result from it)

ah i am sorry I was rambling again😂

anyways hope you have a nice day and don't stress yourself too much with answering always happy to see you post❤️

babe let me just say ur brain is massive and i thank u from the bottom of my heart – anyway here’s the original post for everyone about to embark on this godforsaken journey with art student sukuna and our new friend pretentious fuck geto suguru 

if you thought you were pitiful at drawing, your sculptural skills are on another level of true and utter shit. you cannot, for the life of you, create things out of clay. you despise carving anything into wood. your pottery faithfully collapses on you whenever you try. you hate working with glass. you would have dropped the class, honest, if you didn’t desperately need it in order to fulfill your major requirements and graduate on time. 

all in all, it’s an awful class created solely to tank your gpa – you don’t understand what you’re doing, you don’t understand what anything is supposed to look like, and you sure as fuck don’t understand how anyone else seems to have their shit together all the time. when you glance around the room, no one, not even the famous ryomen sukuna, has trouble making their materials turn into something recognizable.

(and, in true sukuna fashion, he loves to make sure you know how fucking untalented you are.) 

so when anthropology-and-ceramics king geto suguru asks if you want to be partners for the next big art project, you agree without a second thought. you’ve been talking to him recently, small talk before class, and for all his pretentious faults, you think he’s delightfully hot as fuck with a smooth voice to match. he wears those crisp, expensive button-downs that he bought at overpriced local craft markets. he always smells like cedar and eucalyptus; he brings a different tote bag to every class, his favorite being one he got as a gift for subscribing to the new yorker. he shops organic only and throws around the words “fair trade” and “bourgeoisie” and “means of production” with the ease that sukuna throws around the words “fuck” and “shit.” 

you think geto is fascinating. and maybe he talks down to you when explaining his anthropology knowledge, he absolutely does, but when he gazes at you with those warm eyes and offers to help you learn how to sculpt and raise your grades, you can’t help but agree with a pair of big pathetic doe eyes. 

why wouldn’t you? you’re just here for a good time, after all.

so when you giggle as geto places his sinfully smooth, manicured hands over yours while teaching you how to use the pottery wheel, you don’t think much of it. you think he’s cute and warm. you’d be a fool to notice the dark annoyance radiating from the other corner of the room.

ryomen sukuna always works alone. but what he didn’t count on was that you wouldn’t be working alone with him. 

it’s not that you’re working with geto, he swears. it’s that you’re not working with him. his ears feel strangely empty without your argumentative quips, without the way you tell him he’s infuriating and annoying every time he tells you something lewd just to fluster you. it’s strangely empty without you both arguing about the difference between great artists and sell-outs – were you here, in his corner of the room, maybe sukuna would have tried to tell you michelangelo was a loser just to see what you would say. 

but you’re not with him. you’re listening to geto tell you about the time he went to study abroad in germany and how he took a trip to morocco where he tried some amazing food you’ve never heard of. he’s telling you about the time he helped make tampons in botswana after his senior year of high school and all of the other deliciously precocious things he has done for the sake of human rights and anti-capitalism. 

(you’re killing the environment, you know, geto often admonishes you when you stumble into class with your cup of coffee. that cup is going to end up in a landfill. he always taks a sip from his hydroflask for emphasis. it’s sleek and black with an oxfam sticker on it.

and sure, you know that your cup is going to become trash. geto doesn’t have to be an annoying fuck and tell you when it’s only eleven in the morning and he drove a literal moped to campus. but still, with that silky man-bun, everything he does is okay.) 

but understand that sukuna doesn’t hate geto. sukuna craves attention, and he absolutely cannot stand being ignored. he’ll pout without realizing it, pursing his lips and wondering what kind of circus act he needs to perform to win back your presence. should he get another tattoo? cuss out the professor? offer to fuck you senseless in the third-floor bathroom? he’s not sure – he’s never not been seen before. ryomen sukuna doesn’t know what it’s like to come in second. 

so he intercepts you after class; in a manner that is both sukuna-and-not-sukuna, he’ll casually throw one of his heavy arms over your shoulders, subtly pulling you away from geto’s aura, wrapping you in his scent of earth and leather and sex appeal. “come on, puppy,” he says, sultry and annoying and condescending all wrapped in one, tapping his ring-clad fingers against your arm. “you’re supposed to help me write my paper, aren’t you?” it’s not a question, it’s a demand, one you know deep down that you would rather die than shy away from. 

you might not like sukuna, you tell yourself, but there’s something about him, the way he talks and moves and exists in the world, that makes you unable to shy away. there’s something about him that always makes you want more without you quite knowing why. 

(he kissed you, once. sometimes you wonder if you would like it to happen again.) 

and you’re still nestled under sukuna’s arm, trapped in his orbit and following him to his favorite empty classrooms, when geto calls back to you, wondering if you’re still interested in going to the avant-garde poetry reading with him tomorrow night. 

he’s going to present a poem he wrote on the terrors inflicted on south america by the united states, geto had explained earlier when his hands were on yours. it was going to be some real, hard-hitting poetry, none of that “rupi kaur bullshit.” he thought it might enlighten you to join him, perhaps in more ways than one.

you pretend you don’t notice the way sukuna’s arm tightens around your shoulders when you tell geto with a flirtatious smile that you can’t wait. 

Anyone Can Be a Hero

So @captainkirkk has this great AU where OFA the quirk is common knowledge and I was fascinated by the idea of how that would translate into hero society where people knew that there was a possibility of being given an incredible quirk. I'll admit this isn't my best effort but I've given this 1.5 hours of my time and I need to start studying. Credit for the idea goes to captainkirkk who graciously let me play with it. Also Ratatouille which accidently helped form the theme. I can't do anything original here.

Anyone can be a hero, at least that’s what All Might says when he’s on TV.

Izuku had always liked All Might, but his admiration only increased when he learned about the open secret that was the legacy quirk One For All and how All Might is the latest in a long, prosperous line of heroes. The idea of a quirk being given based on merit and not the random luck of genetics. It was truly inspiring.

Izuku soaked up everything he could find about the eight One For All users and thought about what he would do with such a powerful quirk and how it’d compliment his mother’s telekinesis or his father’s fire breathing or whatever quirk he ended up developing.

So he waited and studied and dreamed unless his diagnosis of quirklessness turned his motivation into desperation. Suddenly, his options had whittled down to nothing… save for the miracle quirk controlled by the strongest man in the world. It seems impossible, but still Izuku dreamed.

“Get over yourself, Deku!” Kaachan shouts as he rips Izuku’s notebook out from him under mid-sentence. The pencil leaves a long trail as Izuku is interrupted from his thoughts on how One For All distributes through the user’s body.

“You really think All Might is going to give One For All to you of all people?” Kacchan laughs as if it’s the funniest idea in the world.

“You-you know what A-All Might says,” Izuku squeaks self-consciously. He balls up his fists, willing himself to be a little stronger, heroes don’t cower or cry or ever, ever show weakness. “A-anyone could be a hero. With-with One For All, I could-” he starts as Kacchan slams his fists into Izuku’s notebook, burning it almost beyond recognition.

“You’re so dumb, Deku,” Kacchan sneers as he throws the burnt notebook over his shoulder and out the open window. “All Might just says shit like that so losers like you can feel better about themselves. One For All is going to go to someone like All Might, someone who’s brave and has a strong quirk. There’s no way he’d give it to a Quirkless Deku like you.” He says before aggressively nodding his head at his cronies, signaling for them to follow.

“I’ll give you some advice, All Might’s at the top of his game right now. Maybe if you throw yourself from the roof now, you’ll reincarnate in time to be a decent candidate.”

XxX

Izuku can’t believe how his day has gone so far.

He scratches wearily at his eyes, caked with dried sludge and tears. He was attacked by a villain, saved by All Might and only to accidently discover that the Number One Hero, the eighth wielder of One For All, and the strongest known hero in the world, is dying. Izuku felt sick just thinking about it, All Might, who smiled like nothing could ever touch him, is still keeping up hero work despite a crippling injury. Despite his grief, Izuku can’t help but admire that kind of resolve and wonder if it’s possible for him.

“You want to be a hero?” All Might croaked, wiping some blood away from him mouth. “You know it’s next to impossible without a quirk.” Izuku fell to his knees and prostrated himself before the hero.

“Y-you said that anyone could be a hero, sir and-and if you’re coughing up blood like that then you really shouldn’t be pushing yourself too hard and well, you’re going to need a successor and-”

“Ah, of course,” All Might sighed quietly to himself. “I’m sorry my boy, I feel for you, I do, but I cannot give One For All to you.” Izuku squeezed his eyes shut and willed himself not to break. “It’s a great responsibility, one I do not take lightly. I simply cannot go around handing it out to every person who asks. I’m sorry to have disappointed you, but you must realize that not just anyone can become a hero.” All Might stood and walked towards the door on the abandoned rooftop they’ve found themselves on.  

“I would greatly appreciate it if you kept my true form a secret. In return, I have some pull at Yuuei if you might be interested in Support, Management or General Studies.” He leaned down and gently brushed Izuku’s hair where he was still prostrating himself on the ground; too ashamed to look his idol in the eye. “You seem like a good lad, kind, I would like to help if I can but you must understand that what you’re asking for is too much.”

“I understand,” Izuku whispered hoarsely, unable to say any more. He’s not sure how long he stayed like that, only that by the time he sat up, All Might was gone.

Izuku staggers home feeling empty and foolish. Of course All Might wouldn’t just hand out the greatest quirk in the world just because he’d asked. And especially after Izuku admitted that he’s Quirkless, untrained and has no meaningful connections. In other words, he was the worst possible person to wield One For All and without All Might’s quirk, there was no way he could become a hero. Just like that, a decade’s worth of dreams have been burned to a crisp, just like his notebook earlier that day.

Izuku stumbles upon the villain by accident, his feet having unconsciously led him here while his brain sluggishly is coming to terms with his dismal future. He almost moves on when several things happen at once. He realizes that the villain everyone is watching is the same one who’d attacked Izuku barely an hour ago. He then catches sight of Kacchan, caught up in the sludge just like Izuku despite his amazing quirk, scared and quickly losing air. He sees 4 pro heroes standing off to the side, doing nothing to save Kacchan right in front of them.

There’s no hesitation after that; Izuku’s legs move on his own.

In the end, he doesn’t end up doing much. Izuku throws his bag, tries to free Kacchan but needs to be rescued by All Might yet again. The pro heroes yell at him for his recklessness, Kacchan glares at him like he’d have rather died than accept Izuku’s pathetic attempts to help and All Might disappears almost immediately after saving them. Not that Izuku blames him, why should he waste any more of his precious time on a nobody like him?

So once more, he finds himself trudging home, covered in even more sludge and feeling even heavier than before. He’s so lost in his thoughts about what he’s going to do that he’s caught completely off guard when All Might jumps out in front of him.

“There you are!” The hero exclaims like he’d actually been looking for Izuku. He reverts back to his true form in a dramatic poof and takes a minute to violently cough up blood. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere, young man!”

“All Might!” Izuku exclaims in surprise before curling in on himself a little. “A-are you going to yell at me too?” Izuku asks quietly. He’s been through too much heartbreak today, he’s not sure he could handle another. All Might’s expression softens as he sets his gnarled hands on his shoulders.

“Quite the opposite, my boy,” All Might says in an almost fond voice. “I wanted to offer an apology and maybe make amends.” 

“Being a hero as long as I have, it’s easy to get a little jaded but that does not excuse my words to you earlier because you were right. Anyone can be a hero.” He groans as he squats down so he’s nearly eye level with Izuku. “Now that doesn’t mean that just anyone can be a hero, it means that a hero can be anyone, regardless of quirk or circumstance.”

“I-I don’t understand,” Izuku says quietly.

“What I’m trying to say is, despite being Quirkless, despite having your dreams cruelly dash by a grumpy old man,” All Might grins sheepishly, “you still ran forward to help that boy without a second thought. I watched you; you didn’t even have to think about rushing in. Strong quirks are well and good but a true hero is someone who’s strong where it counts most.” He says, pointing a bony finger to Izuku’s heart.

He stands up again and the way the shadows of the setting sun fall on his face, he seems as strong as he is with One For All. The atmosphere feels heavy and powerful, as if sensing the importance of the next few moments.

“Young man, will you accept my power and be the ninth wielder of One For All.” All Might asks seriously, all traces of his earlier humor gone. This is real, this is actually happening.

Izuku falls to his knees, this can’t be happening, not to him of all people. He didn’t deserve this; there are million, maybe two, other people more deserving of this honor. But that didn’t mean he isn’t going to grab it with both hands and be the best hero he could be with it.

“Yes,” he chokes out, he thought he’d run out of tears earlier but it seems he had more to spare. “I will.” All Might grins and offers him a hand after Izuku calms himself down. He accepts it and lets the hero pull him to his feet.

“Alright, well this is only the beginning, my boy. As you can imagine, there’s a great deal of paperwork involved. Do you live nearby? I’m going to need to talk to your mother and father about this, obviously. You’ll need some extra training before I can properly pass on One For All, it packs quite a punch and physically you won’t be able to handle it right now. I don’t know what your plans were, but all One For All users have attended high school at Yuuei. With my seal, you’ll already be enrolled without taking the entrance exam, though you still can if you desire.” He pauses, “Look at me, I’m getting ahead of myself. I don’t even know your name.”

“Midoriya Izuku,” Izuku whispers. All Might puts an arm around his shoulder to steady him before he face plants right into the ground. “I can’t believe this is happening, everyone said it was impossible because I was Quirkless.”

“That’s what I said too when my master, the seventh holder, chose me,” All Might grins. “But that’s the beauty of One For All, young Midoriya, we get to choose our successors on more important matters. Now come on my boy, there’s a lot to be done before you start high school next spring.”

for the prompt thing, can you write a boy trixya highschool fic with goth! katya and nerd! trixie? thank you! 💞

Thank you darling! Sorry this has taken so long, life is getting in the way 😢 written from Trixie’s POVSend me sentence prompts and drag race pairings and I’ll write you a little drabble!

I had a lot of time to notice him, but I sometimes think that even if I didn’t have the time I would have noticed him anyway. He hangs out with the stoner kids Matt, Jake and Detox. Everyday after school they go behind the bleachers and smoke blunts. I know because I watch them. Well not them. Him. I fly under the radar, basically invisible in this school. And that allows me to watch him without him knowing. His name is Brian McCook and he’s hypnotising. He always dresses in all black and large chunky boots even in the middle of summer. He wears lots of chains and heavy jewellery and I’ve never seen him without thick black eyeliner under his eyes and chipped black nail polish. I’m not sure what it was about him that I found so mesmerising but there was definitely something. Something I just can’t put my finger on.

I supposed you’d call me a loner, although there’s something about that word that makes it sound like I chose to be that way. I didn’t. I’ve always been more concerned about my studies and doing well in school than making friends. The other kids call me a nerd, a geek, a loser. I don’t mind really, in a year my school days will be behind me.

Most days after school, unless it was raining, I would sit and do homework within view of the bleachers. Sometimes I didn’t get a lot done, sometimes he distracted me too much. I swear I could sit and watch him all day, I really don’t know what it is about him that captivates me so much. We’ve never even talked, like most people at this school he probably doesn’t even know I exist. I don’t mind really, I just like watching him. He always seems to have a large smile plastered across his face which contradicts his all black attire. He’s less than graceful when he moves, he seems to flail about a lot especially when he laughs. A part of me would love to make him laugh like that, but another part of me knows I would never have the courage to even talk to him.

One day I sat by the bleachers for over an hour and neither Brian nor his friends were there. It was a very rare occasion the four of them didn’t hang out under the bleachers, I was a little concerned something had happened. I started packing my books back up in my bag to go home because there was really no point in staying here if he wasn’t here. I stood up from the grass and slung my satchel over my shoulder. As I was about to leave a voice stopped me in my tracks.‘Were you looking for someone?’Despite never having actually talked to him I’d heard his voice enough to know it was him. My whole body tensed. I had to take a few deep breaths to try and calm myself before I turned back around to face him.'Uhm…sorry?’ My voice was shaking I just hoped he couldn’t hear it.'You’re always here. Watching us.’ Brian had a small smile on his lips. My heart hammered hard in my chest. What could I say to that? I certainly wasn’t going to admit it.'I come here to do homework. It’s peaceful.’'How much homework do you get done when you spend your whole time watching us?’ He stepped a little closer to me and my breath caught in my throat.'I…I don’t…’ I stuttered.'It’s ok the others haven’t noticed, they’re too wrapped up in themselves. I noticed though. I don’t mind, just curious what’s so interesting about us.’ His smile grew a little.'I…I don’t…I have to go.’ I shook my head and turned on my heels to run away.'Brian wait!’ The other Brian called after me and I froze in my tracks. I slowly turned back to face him.'How do you…how do you know my name?’'We’ve been going to the same school for years.’ Brian shrugged.'People don’t…they don’t normally notice me.’ That sounded so pathetic, I wish I could take it back. Brian was still smiling though.'I find that hard to believe.’ He stepped closer to me again and with each step he took my heart raced more and more. 'I’ve always noticed you.’'Me? Why?’ I frowned. Was this some kind of joke his stoner friends were making him pull?'There’s something interesting about you.’ Brian shrugged. 'I find it fascinating how you can manoeuvre down a busy corridor while reading and not walk into anything. I like the way in class you go into your own world when your working on an assignment. I enjoy it at lunch time when your listening to music and you rock your head up and down subtly in time with the beat and your eyes light up a little when a really good song comes on. You have all these little quirks that I don’t think you even realise you have and I just find them fascinating.’ Brian shrugged like he could have been talking about anything but my eyes went wide and I’m sure my jaw must have dropped. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I’ve gone my whole life believing I was invisible and all this time there was one person who had noticed me. And of all the people it could have been, it was the one person I would wanted to notice me the most. I honestly couldn’t believe what I was hearing. But he couldn’t be lying because all those things about me were true. I couldn’t speak, I just stared at Brian in a complete state of shock. He stared back, clearly waiting to see if I was going to say anything. He scratched his head. 'Uhm…did you hear me?’'Yeah.’ My voice was croaky, so unlike myself. 'I just don’t know what to say.’A smile played on Brian’s lips and he stepped closer to me.'You don’t need to say anything.’ He chuckled lightly and then he took hold of my shoulders. My whole body tensed but not in a bad way. His face edged closer to mine and his eyes started to close and I swear it was happening in slow motion. I held my breath and managed to close my eyes just as his lips met mine. My first kiss. It was soft and quick and over way too soon. He stepped back and let go of my shoulders.'I’m sorry if I completely read the signals wrong but-’'You didn’t.’ I cut him off, finally finding my voice.'Why do you look so terrified then?’ He chuckled again.'Because I feel like I must be dreaming.’ I ran my fingers through my hair. 'I mean of course I like you, how could I not? But you liking me? That’s stranger than fiction.’Brian chuckled again and his smile grew.'Well believe it, because I do. Now I’m going to kiss you again ok?’ He stepped closer again and this time when he moved closer it wasn’t so much in slow motion. His tongue massaged my bottom lip and I might be naive but I know what that means. I opened my mouth and let his tongue in. Brian wrapped his arms around me as the kiss intensified and I gave myself over to him. I still felt like I must be in a dream, but if it was a dream I wanted to make the most of it. If this was a dream, it was one I never wanted to wake up from.