HIS FAVORITE GINGER ✓

FIVE.

"But!" Their teacher's voice suddenly bursts through the class, shattering any walls built by talkativeness, loud enough to shut us all up. "But, your partners for this project are going to be the ones I paired you with during your last activity."

And the groan chorus is continued.

⏩

Seconds, minutes, two hours pass by. Alejandro can feel his mental geysers rekindling as he drums Linkin Park on the table with his pointer fingers; this is the only way to keep him sane. The silence in this damned library is way too loud and it's driving him loco. There isn't even a clock ticking. A pin can be heard if dropped on the beige tiled floors. Everywhere smells like old books while the old Latina librarian is of scorn and stringency.

His dead Macbook and the books he retrieved from the shelves an hour ago lie on the chipped wooden table and seem to gaze at him; as if mocking him. Every inanimate object seem to mock him nowadays. There was the lizard, the B+ for the experiment and now it's his laptop and some ancient anatomy records. His patience is already threatening to barge out of its dam. The headphones on his head aren't solving shit anymore though he's managed to get some work done. He checks his watch for the hundredth time today.

Alejandro's mom had him get sessions when he nearly strangled a playmate to death at the innocent age of seven just because the poor boy said he looked like Garfield. The psychologist once told him walking helps in times like this so he obeys, and it does help.

Soon, I finds myself lowkey bouncing around the gigantic bookshelves while whistling an unfamiliar tune. With Alejandro's bubblegum, he's a popcorn making machine. Filling the oh-so-familiar booky smell into his lungs like weed to ease his anger meter, he takes a stroll up the stairs to higher ground - where the big books are located. Alejandro Bale can't lie, he loves big books.

His fingers graze the spines of dusty, grey-haired books in the History section, not that he is planning to read them but there is undoubtedly something sexy in men wearing barely animal skin and spears in hand while riding horses. He has no idea but it arouses the hell out of him.

Speaking of hot guys, the hottest his eyes have possibly ever laid themselves upon is waving at him at the moment from across the bookshelf. He can't completely, visually digest his physique but can still swoon at his face that looks like a seraph's. He has hair colored with a bunch of pixels extracted from an old, sepia photograph; it is messy to a delicious extent. the hue of the blue in his irises are so damn concentrated, it seems impossible. Adorable dark freckles adorn his button nose and the nape of his neck is so heavily defined, Alejandro may mistake it for a pizza blade because he so wants to eat the both at the same time, pressed together like a sandwich. Same goes for his jaw. Guys like this never cease to make Alejandro wish he's a cannibal.

Neither has he imagined someone so beautiful - well actually yes especially when he saw Teen Wolf's Peter Hale for the first time - nor has ever imagined himself dropping schoolwork for a random Apollo. He gives a small wave and turns deaf ears to his calls.

"Hey."

"Al, what's up?" Kara asks through the phone. Judging from her groggy voice and a yawn that accompanies it, she must have been sleeping before the call.

"It's Grayson." He knows she will wake up fully on hearing that name. Alejandro can almost picture her sitting up on her bed with twinkling eyes like Madonna's gold teeth.