𝔪𝔞𝔣𝔦𝔞 𝔴𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔴𝔬𝔩𝔣 𝔳𝔞𝔪𝔭𝔦𝔯𝔢 𝔰𝔞𝔡 𝔟𝔬𝔦 1D 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯

Part 1: The Strange Boys

My name is Y/N Y/L/N and I'm sixteen years old because what's more romance-y than a sixteen year old falling in love with a hundred year old vampire, which isn't illegal at all. Although this is supposed to be a insert yourself novel, the description of you is as follows: shiny blonde hair that is usually up in a scalp killing high ponytail, shiny blue orbs (A/N: as this story continues, I cannot put myself through the physical pain of describing eyes as orbs, but, for now, I will), and I'm 3'4. Small enough to always say: "I'm so tiny." Insert wide eyed "cute" emoji.

My dad got a job offer in the small town of New York City, so I'm moving there. I was forced to leave behind the rolling hills and a large mountain with a bunch of old, dead men's faces carved into it. It's not like I wanted to stay in South Dakota, after all, I didn't have any friends, but switching schools during the middle of high school sucks, with a capital s, but I couldn't write it that way because gRaMmAr.

Our new house is so small. It's tiny. Microscopic. It only has seven bedrooms, eighteen bathrooms, gold tiled floors, a chandelier, and seven dining rooms. Like, laaame. Dad says I have to deal with it and that I'm spoiled, but screw him.

I started school today. I guess I was nervous, but ever since my mom died in a freak car accident 120 years ago and my fish drowned on my birthday, all my emotions are kind of dead. That's why I've become emo, I buy all of my clothes from Hot Topic. Today I was wearing 6 foot platforms, a tiny black skirt, five pairs of fishnets layered on top of each other, and a My Chemical Romance T-Shirt. I looked in the mirror and my outfit. I had perfect skin, flawless makeup, and looked like a model. I am so ugly. I hate myself.

I hurried down the stairs, slamming my hand onto the banister.

DAMNIT. DUMB SPLINTER.

I curled my upper lip, trying not to curse, making me look like a beaver.

"Y/N," my dad called from downstairs. "You're gonna be late for school."

I quickly checked my iPhone 69. 7:28. Damnit. The bus leaves in two minutes. I hurried down the rest of the stairs and bolted out the door.

"Breakfast?" my dad yelled after me.

"No time," I shouted back.

It was raining. I flinched away, not quite succeeding because rain was everywhere. The memories were ebbing into my mind, peeling underneath my skin.

"You coming?" the bus driver, who I never bothered to learn the name of, asked.

I nodded and stepped up onto the bus. I clutched my books to my chest, trying to avoid looking at anyone. I cursed quietly underneath my breath. All the seats were full. As I was making my way down the aisle, a foot stuck out in front of me, sending me toppling over, my books spilling across the aisle. Laughs erupted behind me. I was being bullied because I was different. I swallowed my shame and began pulling the books back into my arms.

A figure knelt down in front of me, picking up one of my books and handing it to me. I looked up. In front of me was a boy around my age. He had dark hair that swooped in front of his... yellow eyes.

"What's wrong with your eyes?" I asked. They could be contacts, but if they weren't, that boy really had something wrong with his eyes. Eyes aren't supposed to be yellow.

The boy looked away quickly, rising to his feet and walking away.

"Wait, I'm sorry," I said, but it was too late. I wasn't really sorry, but my mother had always taught me to apologize when someone seemed upset. I piled the rest of my books into my arms and stood up. Finally, an empty seat. I sat down, putting my backpack beside me to keep anyone else from sitting there. It was a fifteen minute ride to school. I was never good at keeping myself entertained.

JE + KL was scratched into the leather seat cover of the bus with a pencil. Probably some dumb, hopelessly in love teenagers. I wonder if they hated each other by now. Probably.

I pressed my forehead to the glass of the window, staring outside. There wasn't really anywhere else to stare when you were looking out a window, but who knows? 

*****

Before I knew it, the bus was pulling to a stop in front of the highschool. I only knew it was the school because I had gone a week before to get to know the school. You know, look at my locker, meet the teachers. They all seemed pretty nice, I guess. Except for Mr. Tylenol. He seemed like a real asshole.

The kids piled out of the bus. I was the last one out. If you don't get your foot into the aisle before the rush, you're never getting out. As I was heading towards school, I saw this boy leaning against the brick wall. He had dark hair and eyes and a leather jacket that seemed two sizes too small. He caught my eye and smirked.

Ha. This is the part where I'm supposed to get all "omgomgomgomgomg he looked at me??? ahhhhhhhhh." Well, you're right. I melted into an actual puddle like the witch in the Wizard of Oz because he was just that hot. 

I broke eye contact first because my insides were melting at the heat of his gaze and hurried inside the building. I didn't want to be late on the first day.

My first class was with a woman named Ms. Smith. I had heard rumors that she was cruel. She made students do push ups if they called her by the wrong name. I met her a week ago. She didn't seem too horrible. She was a stubby woman, barely taller than I was. Her eyes were close together and she looked bug eyed because of her glasses.

I weaved through the mob of children, none of which were excited to get to class. This highschool was better than my old one by far. They couldn't even be compared, although, I'll go on to compare them. My old one was disgusting. It was small and cramped. The genius principal really thought they could fit twenty something kids in a class that was barely big enough for ten. The teachers didn't even have desks. The halls were always crowded, mostly with kids who were skipping classes. None of the rules were enforced, causing total chaos.

This one was better. It was more spacious, but had blinding white walls that made me feel like I was in time out. The classrooms were huge; there was enough room for at least twenty five kids and a teacher (with a desk) in each one. There were a lot more rules, though. Not that I cared. I always followed rules. The kids in my old school always called me a "goody two shoes".

I pushed the traumatic memories from my head and walked into Ms. Smith's classroom. The desks were in groups of five. All of the groups were filled except for one. Who was sitting at that one unfilled table? Weird emo boy who was leaning against the brick wall. How did he get there before me? I don't know.

"'Sup," the boy said, nodding towards me.

My lungs melted into a puddle of mushy oxygen. "Hi," I squeaked like a mouse who just choked on cheese.

"You're Y/N, right?"

I nodded. It was a really small, barely noticeable nod, but a nod nonetheless.

"Cool. I'm Jacob."

"No talking," Ms. Smith shrieked. Her voice was like one of those annoying birds who only happen to shriek when you are trying to go to bed or in the early hours of the morning.

I remember when my mom used to say 'no talking'.

I swallowed my trauma once more and sat down. I didn't pay much attention to the class. I just thought about my emo, tragic backstory. Before I knew it, the end of the day had swung around like the back end of a horse trying to kill a small child.

How I got home wasn't important. What was is that when I got home, there were five tall men at the door, next to my dad.

"Dad," I asked, fear slipping into my voice like a rubber duck floating in a bathtub full of chemicals. "Who are these people?"

"They're One Direction. I sold you to them for drug money," my dad said, a lopsided smile stretching across his face.

DUN DUN DUN