PICTURE PERFECT // Jack Manifold X Reader

1

Staring down at the ground, you were contemplating ending it all.

In the back of your mind, you knew that the boy with the trombone case hadn't meant to bump into you - and really, with so many students all trying to cram through the school doors at the same time, it was inevitable that he bumped into someone with that heavy case... you would have just really preferred if it wasn't you. Especially when you had been holding the lens to your camera.

You had watched the fall happen in slow motion - you had just been holding the lens, too rushed to slide it into your camera bag with the actual device. So when the trombone case had hit you in the back of the legs, causing you to stumble half a step forward, it slipped out of your hand, falling to the concrete pavement that led up to the school doors and landing with a crack that echoed through your head.

It was even worse when the lens began to roll away, heading into the denser throng of people flowing into the building.

Ignoring the dull sting on the back of your leg from where the case hit you, you hurried after the lens, terrified by the crack it had made when it had landed on the ground. You only had two lenses for your camera - and you only had brought the one to school for class today. If it was cracked, you weren't going to be able to do anything in class - unless you wanted to photograph with a broken lens.

Your worry increased to panic when you saw someone kick the lens away, sending it hurtling into one of the brick walls by the door.

You pushed through the crowd of students heading into the school for the day, all laden with their own cameras or instruments or canvases or dance bags, heading off to their classes for the day. Normally, the diversity of the school was something you liked - as a general arts college, there were loads of different courses people could take, and it led to a great mix of people. Now though, you were cursing it under your breath (specifically the band, specifically the trombones).

You broke free of the mob to scurry over to where your lens was sitting against the wall, stooping down to scoop it up into your hand, hurriedly turning it over to asses the damage.

It wasn't just cracked. It was shattered.

A spiderweb of lines spread outward from the middle of the glass, breaking the smooth surface into jagged squares and triangles with no rhyme or reason to them. The reflection of your face was distorted through the cracks, a thousand smaller versions of yourself looking back up at you with wide eyes.

Fuck.

You reached over to where your camera bag was balanced on your hip, swinging it around to the front of your body so that you could unzip it, sliding the lens (if you could even call it that anymore) into the pocket where you would have put it normally. Zipping the bag back up as you stood, you rejoined the students entering the building, now with a heavy heart.

Class today was going to suck. Ass.

How were you supposed to do anything when your lens was absolutely destroyed? It would have been one thing if you were doing some sort of interpretive piece, but your class was working on capturing real life now - and real life wasn't normally seen through a shattered lens. At this point, all you could hope for was that you didn't have to turn in anything by the end of the class - because you knew you wouldn't have anything to turn in.

Hard concrete turned to tiles under your feet as you made your way into the building, mind running in overdrive about how you were going to explain the broken lens to your photography teacher. What if she did expect you to turn in something by the end of class? You could always borrow someone else's lens to take the photo, but you would feel bad asking, especially when you had another at home. Oh god... how were you going to explain this to your parents? If you wanted to replace it, you were going to have to ask them for the money, since you didn't have a job.

That goddamn trombone case...

You nervously played with the strap of your camera bag that was slung across your shoulder as you made your way through the halls. Of course something like this had to happen today. Everything had been perfectly fine when you had woken up this morning - you had felt good even. Sure it might have been because you overslept a bit, but it wasn't that bad. If you rushed, you could still make it to school on time. It wouldn't be a big deal to just carry the lens there - it would just fit in your hand.

How wrong you had been when you had sped out the door this morning.

You would just have to get through the day as best you could - that was the only thing you could really do about it. It wasn't like you could run back home and exchange your now-broken lens for the other one (the walk from your house to the school was short, but it wasn't that short, and you had already been running behind).

Logically, you knew it would be fine. If you just explained when happened, you were sure your teacher would understand - and maybe there would even be a spare lens in the camera equipment room you could use. Dropping your lens was still anxiety inducing though, especially when it was one of two that you had. Well, you really only had the one now. Still, a broken lens wasn't the end of the world. You did have another one, even if you didn't have it right now.

All you had to do was get through the day.