𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚞𝚎 𝚒,

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☀️

PROLOGUE I ; ❝what do you want from my world?❞

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PROLOGUE I ; ❝what do you want from my world?

☀️

my family and i were always constantly moving, y'know, the typical military family...

...that was the case until my worried-mother convinced my detached-father to retire from our current location in (state/province, country), to a scarcely-populated city within ontario, canada, upon discovering my grandpa's health having taken a dive for the worst and my grandmother no longer having the strength to be able to take care of the both of them on her own.

because of these prior living circumstances, i was never able to grow close relationships with other children around my age. i - of course - had people to talk to throughout the years and made some interesting connections, but they always had their own friends as well.

therefore; not for a moment did i consider anyone as a true close friend, whether if we were able to keep in contact afterward or not.

despite this... the way i am is not only a byproduct of being the daughter of a military parent and stay-at-home, helicopter mother, but also an only child raised with high standards in mind. an eloquent child whose only purpose in life is to make her somewhat 'comfortably' well-off family proud; that was me. and i'm okay with that.

i think.

☀️

i arrived to canada a quarter into my first semester of sophomore year, and to say it was strange would be the understatement of the year.

i remember walking through the halls, trying to find the administrator's office for my schedule and locker information. i immediately attracted the attention of a large ensemble of other students standing around their lockers, staring me down almost menacingly.

to be fair though, if i were to look back on it, this could most likely be up to the environment of a private academy... being filled with other decently-rich kids that were understandably feeling a bit territorial from meeting someone new that they have not grown up with. but even with that knowledge, that doesn't mean it still wasn't intimidating.

in fact, this was the first private school i had ever attended. probably due to moving around so much to even be qualified for one, but seeing as i would graduate in a few years, my parents wanted my applications and scholarships to look spotless, so why not!?

after i retrieved my needed school information, i nodded appreciatively to the office lady, expressing my gratitude towards her for supplying my essentials as i slipped the paperwork into the front, clear-laminated pocket of my navy blue, 2-inch binder.

i twirled around from my spot at the countertop and journeyed to the exit, hugging my binder close to my chest with my right hand, and shrugging my light blue multi-pocket backpack up higher on my shoulders. as my free hand grasps onto the lever-handled doorknob and pulls the wooden door open, i start to feel a restricting grip on the other side of the door loosen slightly. as soon as i realize it, it's too late: coming face-to-face with a tall, black-and-green mohawked boy adorned in a slightly differed uniformed attire. the outfit included a haphazardly tucked and buttoned white, short-sleeved dress shirt, loosened red tie slipped down to the center of his chest, with a black skull undershirt shown slightly in result, black ripped jeans, yellowing-and-dirty red converse, and several accessories, like eyebrow, nose, and ear piercings as well as a spiked black choker.

my mouth flew agape as my e/c eyes widened at the mere sight of him. i could tell the expression was reciprocated, until he realized his outward image; taking a deep breath, lowering his eyes, and gifting a small smirk whilst trudging past me and further into the office.

☀️

after this little occurrence, it wasn't long until i saw the pierced boy with the streak of green hair again - especially since we shared the same first-period class; economics.

and, there was just- something about the boy who would always be late for his classes. the boy who had all the girls wrapped around his every promise, every word, and every action. the boy who didn't care if he made a mockery of himself in front of everyone, only for it to go his way...

...the boy who would get publicly humiliated by his father's inappropriate, borderline-abusive berating about how much of a "screw-up" he was in-the-name of their long lineage of police officers...

you hear what they say about how: 'opposites attract', or how, 'the dark feeds off of the light', and vice versa? that exact cliché?

well, those people are smart.

because, soon enough, they would be right.

☀️

he would walk down the halls of our high school like a sore thumb. everything from his appearance, alone, just screamed danger. he would loiter - ditching class for the fun of it - whilst i rushed to class, ensuring to be the earliest to intricately write and stylize my agenda for the day in multicolored pens... doing extracurriculars, like competitive cheerleading/dance class, theatre arts, and spanish 2 ap... he did a rotp - or regular officer training plan - gym class (per requested by his family), art class, and a basics-leveled french class; none of which he would attend at all. we were practically the embodiments of a 'bad boy' and a 'good girl'.

yet, this didn't shake the feeling of wanting to get to know him.

sneaking tactful peaks towards his general vicinity would be casted, but in the same sense, it'd be easily returned. but for him, it'd be less so "sneaking", and rather a blank stare.

the strong gaze being imprinted all along my body; head to toe, his eyes would wander and burn the surface of my skin.

i guess, curiosity truly did kill the cat.

☀️


you're a good little girl.


☀️

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