Divinity + Narry [discontinued]

00:08

bête noire
ˌbāt ˈnwär,ˌbet/
noun
a person or thing that one particularly dislikes.

Niall loved English class, but he was far too lazy to love it for the right reasons. He hated learning in general, but he really hated having to read even more. He hated literature and having to write essays and annotating stupid passages that he'd forget about the moment he stepped foot outside of the classroom. Most of all, though, he really hated Mr. Bailey's dull, monotone voice. Seriously, it made him want to fall asleep ninety percent of the time, and as a matter of fact, he really has fallen asleep numerous amounts of times before. He'd gotten caught a few times, too, and let's just say that being awoken with a pool of saliva running out the side of his mouth wasn't such a glamorous moment after all. Some of his classmates still teased him from time to time, but hey, that was high school for you.

Niall would say that English was his favorite class of the day, though, and only one person was to blame for that. He was pathetic in the saddest way, but he didn't mind being pathetic when Harry Styles was the one he was being pathetic for.

Harry sat three chairs to Niall's right, and that was pretty unfortunate now that he thought about it since, if he wanted to look at him (which he wouldn't because he wasn't weird like that) (okay, he totally would), he'd have to turn to his side to do so, and that would be a bit too obvious for his liking. He liked to admire Harry, yeah, but he didn't want it to be known that he did. He wasn't one for humiliation anyway.

But the fact that he and Harry actually shared a class together was enough for Niall. Just knowing that he was in Harry's presence made him feel warm inside, like freshly baked cookies on a cold, winter day. Great, now he was craving cookies.

The last bell of the day rang, then, bringing Niall out of his chocolate chip cookie eating fantasies and back into the real world. He began to gather all of his things, shoving them carelessly into his green backpack (the one he'd had for quite some time now, maybe a bit too long), before he rose from his assigned seat. He was about to start making his way out when his teacher's voice interrupted his actions.

"Remember people, your essays are due next week, so if you haven't started on those I suggest you do." He spoke sternly, and that was the exact moment Niall knew that he was fucked. He was so fucked. "I expect them to be fantastic!" Mr. Bailey added, a little too excitedly for Niall's taste. His enthusiasm for essays really made Niall cringe. "I want to be blown away!"

Mr. Bailey could blow Niall for all he cared. He hated school; it was definitely his bête noire. He hated homework. He hated life in general. He should've been brought into this world as a tree or something totally useless but actually not that useless at all. Because, you know, oxygen and what not. Yeah, tress were pretty important.

Niall sighed to himself as he slipped on his backpack. He was in for a very long week ahead of him. Maybe he'd ask Evan to slam his head into his locker later on, or maybe he'd shove one of his pencils into his eye; he wasn't exactly sure yet, but his options were looking pretty effective so far. He was always open to new ideas, though.

He dragged himself out of his classroom, completely ignoring his nerd of a teacher who waved at him goodbye when Niall passed him. Mr. Bailey was a dick (he wasn't, really), and Niall hated him a lot. (He didn't, really).

He almost made it all the way down the hallway when he heard rushed footsteps coming towards him and before he knew it, Harry's shoulder brushed against his own and he was stood right next to him. Their difference in height was quite obvious, but Harry wasn't that much taller than Niall. He was actually the perfect size next to Harry, in his opinion―he reached right up to his shoulders, and that was good enough for Niall. Not that it mattered at all anyway. Whatever.