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Not-So-Epic Finale

My geography teacher declared, "Summersberry! I am in love with you!"

There were many things wrong with this. Firstly, as a grown man in the teaching profession, why was he at a teenage binge-drinking fest celebrating the kidnap of one of his pupils? Secondly, this guy drew volcanoes on a whiteboard for a living. We had never had a single conversation that wasn't about sedimentary rock. And thirdly, he was a grown man with a wife and family.

Taking all this into consideration, I said: "Okay."

"No!" cried the curly one from One Direction. "He can't love you! I love you!"

"Hey, hey," argued the small Irish one. "Nope, mister. I love her."

The tall one pushed him aside, holding a rose. "No, Summersberry. I love you."

"Actually," the dark-haired monobrow one said, "I love her."

The homosexual one just shrugged indifferently. "To be honest, I don't really care," he admitted, and Susan gave his shoulder a sympathetic pat.

Trying to avoid the awkwardness, I whirled around to leave, but 2Mas was blocking my way.

"Ily bbe," he informed me.

"No!" cried Alwolfo. "Summersberry I love you forever!"

"Ily 5-eva," 2Mas countered.

Then, my crowd of admirers began surging forwards slowly like a throng of zombies. There were just so many of them!

All of a sudden, the glass of Alwolfo's window shattered, as British had hurled himself through it like a brick. I was beginning to think this was the only way he actually knew how to enter a building.

"Hi Summersberry," British said Britishly. "I love you."

"Well actually," I explained apologetically, pointing at my group of romantic prospects, "so do all these guys."

He threw a pint of lager to the ground in fury. "Blimey, these buggering buggers have nabbed me bird!" he cursed.

After sticking that through Google translate to work out what on earth he'd just said, I told him, "Actually, British, out of all these men, I choose you!"

British frowned. "What?" He seemed genuinely confused. "All of these men are wealthy, good looking and at the peak of their careers. I, however, am a homicidal supernatural monster stuck in high school. Are you sure you're making an informed decision here?"

My eyes instantly welled with tears. "But British...I'm pregnant! And you're the father!"

A wave of silence fell over the party guests like a blanket over a rich man's car in snowy weather.

"What?" British said slowly. "Summersberry, we have literally only ever spoken twice - three times if you count right now - and at no point did we...you know!" he gestured downwards. "Are you sure you're not just fat?"

"No," I confessed. "But can you just accept the fact that we're dating now?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, whatever."

The whole crowd burst into jubilant cheers, and the music re-started. The crowd began to dance and party again, happy that British and I were now an item. Xing and 2Mas - or, as I call them, The Leftovers - looked into each others' eyes and saw love. True love. Like the love I now had with British.

We gazed at each other, me happily, him apathetically. I could see that this would indeed be a beautiful and everlasting relationship.

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