The story of Peter Santiago and Ouran Hayes.
The broken, bullied and desperate, willing to change himself even if it kills him.
The exalted, shamed and objectified. Too torn up to care anymore.
The story of two impossibly different bo...
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Ouran yawned and tipped his head back and squinted up at the dim fluorescent tube-light embedded on the ceiling right above his desk, some brown stains snaking out from it.
He shuffled in his seat; readjusting his chair and moving it slightly away from his neighbour who, throughout whole of the last period, was masturbating under the desk while sneaking glances at their phone; the screen displayed a very explicit cartoon of two people having sex.
Ouran wrinkled his nose in disgust. Fucking creep.
Shaking his head he turned away from the disturbing scene and watched disinterestedly as people bid their friends goodbye and shuffled out the door to their next class. Ouran had health and science in the same room so he didn't have to move, which was lucky since he really didn't want to run into Clarissa, or any of her friends, or even Iggy. He just wanted to be alone.
He enjoyed the solitude of his own company, being able to relish quietness of his thoughts without worrying about the judgment of others. It felt oddly sobering to be alone, like finally coming home after a long, crappy vacation.
Trapped in the wilderness of his thoughts Ouran didn't notice when a girl with a pair of big black glasses and a slight frame —which was dwarfed by the oversized uniform she wore—slipped into the seat next to him. He didn't notice her survey the room timidly or the way she bit anxiously on her lip.
And he definitely didn't notice when she finally peered meekly to the side and looked at him.
He didn't realise how when she saw him, the world slowed down around her.
How time stopped for just a little when she saw him quirk his lips up in an involuntary smile.
Ouran didn't notice that right then, to her, he seemed as vivid as a summer sky. Azure and luminescent, absolutely beautiful. Burning under her eyes-lids, stamped across her mind. Enchanting her.
But what he did notice is that when she leaned slightly forward, she tipped out of her seat and fell to the ground in a heap, her chair clattering as it hit the floor.
Her cheeks burned as the class broke out into laughter and she tried to collect herself; scurrying around on the floor, feeling for her glasses and her pencil case that had tumbled down with her. Without her glasses she could barely see, and clumsily she tripped over again, eliciting another round of laughter from the class, but luckily some girl took pity on her and helped her up, handing her glasses back to her and asking gently if she was okay.
With her vision returned she looked up the girl in wonder and fervently nodded, blushing heavily; the girl was beautiful.
The girl smiled at her and fluffed out her hair, to the shorter it looked like a lion's mane. The girl directed her back into her seat, promising to show her around school and eagerly volunteered to be her friend, knowing how hard it was to be new. She blushed and a tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, nodding quickly and causing the beautiful girl to laugh a little before returning to her seat.
She sat down again and sighed happily as she fiddled with her notebook; happy that the class had seemingly forgotten what had happened and moved on, and happy that she had meet someone so nice. But then, she realised someone was watching her.
She snapped her head to the side and faced Ouran. He had been watching the whole ordeal and hadn't even bothered to help her, even though he was sitting right next to her. She felt a small pang of anger but couldn't muster the courage to open her mouth and voice her thoughts, her lips glued shut as she took in how stunningly perfect he was again, her eyes stretched wide -very wide- as if trying to expand enough to contain all the beautiful details of his face.
Ouran silently studied the shell-shocked girl in front of him, her mouth slightly agape and her eyes foggy and distant. She looked like one of those tiny teddy-bear keychains they sold in the bookstore; frayed and falling apart, clad in pastel skirts and tops and smart little bow-ties but still not selling.
He rolled his eyes and turned away, leaving her blinking stupidly before she blushed and snapped her attention back to the front of the class, where the teacher was yelling at someone, biting her lip and twiddling her fingers rapidly, her cheeks stained red.
Ouran scoffed, a crooked smile creeping onto his face; she was slightly amusing.
