- | Alphabet Boy | -

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*1 week timeskip*

It's Music class. One of my favorite subjects.

The teacher is good, the lessons are good, and she doesn't mind anything. Except for the bullying, that's a touchy subject for her.

"Good morning class!" Ms. Lovato (not Demi Lovato) exclaimed.

"Good morning, Miss." All of us said unision, our voices filled with excitement.

All of the students here has a passion for music and poetry, which is good.

Like, if you have seen Melanie's writing, it's so real.

When you see Troye's writing, it's inspiring and beautiful.

Melanie's uncontinued song is called "Where Do Babies Come From?" is so fucking real.

It's about early or teenage pregnancy and promoting safe sex and stuff. That's what I think it is.

"Where do babies come from? They come from girls who want to grow up too fast..." I sang quietly.

"I told you, Dan. I'm not gonna continue that song." Melanie chuckled.

"So class, the most popular band in this school is the 'Imperfectionists'." Miss announced.

"Wow." Troye mumbled.

"So you guys, let them write some of the things you are working on, let them help you." Miss continued.

"We would be glad to help you guys!" Troye smiled sweetly, making all of the boys almost drool.

Connor, my other classmate. He was blushing ever so slightly. To the sight of Troye smiling.

He definitely has a thing for Troye.

I smirked to myself and just smiled.

A guy came up to me.

Philip Lester. Fuck. Kill me now.

"Hey, Dan!" He grinned. His smile can light up any place. Of how bright and beautiful it is. It can be displayed in a museum, even though that would be creepy.

"O-oh, uhm.. hey Phil!" I smiled back, returning the gesture.

"So, I need help with this... song." He hand me the paper with his songs.

Alphabet Boy

A-a-a-a, b-b-b-b. A-a-a-a, b-b-b-b.

A-a-a-a, b-b-b-b, b-b-b-b, b-b-b-b-b-b-b.

Very confusing.

Always aiming paper airplanes at me when your around.

You build me up like building blocks, just so you can bring me down.

You can crush my candy cane, but you'll never catch me cry.

If you dangle that dimploma and I deck you, don't be surprised.

Is this like a metaphor for something?

I know my ABC's, yet you keep teaching me.

I say, fuck your degree. Alphabet boy.

You think you're smarter than me, with all your bad poetry.

Fuck all your ABC's alphabet boy...

Oh... this is about his ex? Isn't it?

"Wow, I might need help with this. This is a very touchy subject." I explained.

crybaby: his life + a phan au [REWRITING]Wo Geschichten leben. Entdecke jetzt