Four Kinds of Broadway - Oneshots - 1-8OO-BROADWAYTHINGS

💛Lams: Bad Boy⚠️

The scent of cigarette smoke attached itself to the fabric on the blackened clothes below the stick, the smoke blowing behind, as it could not keep pace with the motorcycle of its owner. Suddenly, the cigarette flew out of the lips it was connected to and thudded silently against the concrete of a sidewalk as the motorcycle slowed down and stopped. A foot kicked the stand up to keep the bike upright, one last puff of smoke spewing out of the lips that just recently accessorized itself with the burning cigarette.

"Look who it is." A young man with a large afro whispered to his shorter, curly haired friend. The male perked up, glancing up at his friend with an eager smirk on his face. "The one and only Alexander."

As the two gazed back at Alexander, the tall male speed-walked past the two as if they had no face, no identities. A whiff of heavy smoke flew past the two once Alexander sped past, the chains hooked through his belts and wrists bouncing and clanging against each other.

"I'd give anything to get a taste of that," The taller male admitted, his bottom lip pulling between his teeth. "Hot.."

"Ew, Thomas! That's gross.." The shorter male whined, clutching his sketchbook tightly against his chest. "He's not even gay, do you see how many girls are around him everyday?"

"Do you ever see him interacting with them? I mean, besides threatening them if they don't back off." Thomas stated, lightly fixing his hair and patting John's shoulder, gesturing him to follow into the hallways of the school. "John, he's a senior. We're juniors. He won't be here next year, and you'll never see him again. And who knows? Maybe he likes a small, soft boy-"

"I'm not soft!" John argued, a frown on his face. He would admit, he would never be as brave and ballsy as Alexander seemed, let alone Thomas. So what if he wore anything other than black? Just because you wear black, doesn't make you emo, and it was the same for pastel colors and soft people. "You're just horny."

"I'm sixteen and gay. Of course I'm horny." Thomas rolled his eyes, leading John to his locker and leaning against it, peeking through the slots to gaze at Alexander. "Just look at him.. So menacing."

"I'm not going to look at him, Thomas.." John complained, placing his sketchbook into his locker and receiving his regular school books, sliding them down into his backpack. "I gotta head to class, I'll see you at lunch."

"Try not to be too shy, kiddo." Thomas teased the smaller male, rubbing his hair and walking off before John could argue with him.

"I'm not-! Ugh!" John grumbled as he headed towards his first period.

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"And as we can see here, everyone, the author of the poem is meant to be explaining-"

The voice of John's teacher slowly flooded out of his mind, his eyes staring somewhere into the air. He did this often, most of the time daydreaming but sometimes just staring off into space as if he were deaf. His thoughts would swirl into his mind, rolling into a larger ball as he recalled past memories and times, until it all exploded into nothingness, silence.

However, instead of an explosion this time, it was an impact, as a paper ball hit the side of John's head. He almost verbally whined in pain, but avoided the embarrassment by holding it in. He looked around to see if anybody was looking at him, but it didn't seem like that. Then he looked to the floor, where the paper lay, crumbled up. He slowly reached down, grabbing it between his fingers and getting comfortable in his seat again.

John slowly uncrumpled the wad of paper until it revealed the dark handwriting, clearly pen.

ask to go to the bathroom