#3 WAX CRAYONS, PT. 1

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#3 WAX CRAYONS, PT

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#3 WAX CRAYONS, PT. 1

TYSON LAURIER

+*:ꔫ:*﹤·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳﹥*:ꔫ:*+゚
would you look at that, double
update! I am on a roll!!!! :P

+*:ꔫ:*﹤·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳﹥*:ꔫ:*+゚

“Let. Me. Go.” 

A young girl scowled, her e/c eyes hardened at the tall male in front of her, who hummed knowledgeably, examining his pristine fingernails before smirking. “Nope.” The girl’s anger merely heightened at his reply, rolling her eyes. “I guess we’ll have to just stand here for hours cause I’m not budging.” She scoffed, and the male’s gaze coldened. 

“Come on, stop being such a goody two shoes and get me the answers to that Spanish test we had.” He said, folding his arms and watching her through his sharp orange eyes, making the girl smile at him. “Nope.” She replied, her smile dropping. 

Although the girl was evident that she was not complying to the male, he was relentless. His once friendly smile disappearing from his face, he slammed the locker behind the girl, leaning in towards her and attempting to use his height and build to intimidate the girl, who did not budge, instead looking up at the male coolly. 

“Last chance princess. Help me out, or I swear you’ll regret it.” He said coldly, but the girl had another trick up her sleeve. Her hands reaching up towards the male, he stiffened for confusedly for a split second before she grabbed his shoulders and slammed her knee up into his stomach, not hard enough to break something, but hard enough to make him back up from her, trembling from pain violently. 

The girl narrowed her eyes at him before turning and walking out of the locker room without another glance towards the male, who grumbled threats towards the h/cette underneath his breath. 

Tyson Laurier really did hate Y/n L/n. 

———————————

The hatred for the girl started long ago, long after they met when just starting elementary school back in the day, when they still did not know each other well enough to determine whether or not they liked each other. The first day of school, a young Tyson had walked inside his new elementary classroom when his eyes met the small figure of another child his age; Y/n L/n. 

She was quietly seated on one of the plastic blue circular tables, a dirty blonde haired girl next to her and chatting endlessly on childish things were her small group of friends, who were all excitedly listening to her, each one ignoring the h/cette hair girl. 

The young girl in question was doodling silently onto a sheet of paper her teacher had no doubt given her, a small box of colourful and vivid crayons next to her. He, like her, was ignored once he entered the classroom, and the only person who really acknowledged his tiny presence was the teacher and the h/cette girl, whose shining e/c eyes followed his figure as he moved. 

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