X-MEN IMAGINES

( w. worthington ) buddy holly

GENRE: fluff !
WARNINGS: none
NOTES: it'd probably help if you liked angsty music but ?? also this'll probably have a second part !



__________

"Dude, you can't be into her!" Scott exclaimed, smacking the back of Warren's head because he was too busy looking at you.

"Why the Hell not?" He asked, genuinely confused. He might've been new, but he did notice that most people in the school steered clear of you completely. But what he didn't understand was; why.

"The school has made a pretty solidified unspoken agreement with her that we don't interact." Scott told him, which only made Warren raise his eyebrows in reply.

"Why, though?"

"Because she listens to rock music, and has a bad attitude." The brunette said in a 'duh, can't you see?' way.

Warren shot him a look, and Scott seemed to realize what he'd said.

"I mean, no offense." He added, which made Warren scoff, even though Scott knew he wasn't that offended.

"So the school hates her because she's me, except a girl version?" Warren reiterated.

"I mean . . . yeah . . . pretty much. But none of us hate her . . . she just seems too cool for us. We like you, of course." He reassured. "It's just that she's . . . intimidatingly beautiful."

"And I'm not?" Warren asked, teasing his friend, who simply rolled his eyes in return.

Then Warren - completely ignoring Scott, as per usual - looked back over to you, and watched as you read a book under an oak tree.

__________

"Do you have notes from English today?" He asked, raising his voice to be heard over the loud 'Weezer' song that was playing over your sound-system.

You gave him a vaguely blank stare, eyebrows raised because you couldn't hear him.

He gave you an expectant look, which only made you sigh, walking over to the stereo, turning the music's volume down significantly. Warren could finally hear himself think.

When you turned back around, you put your hands on your hips, not impressed. "What?" You asked him, just wanting him to leave so that you could get back to staring at the roof while listening to 'Buddy Holly' pretty much on repeat.

He didn't know why, but his heart started to flutter upon seeing you. You were basically his soulmate.

"Do you have notes from English today?" He repeated, voice wavering. He immediately blushed in embarrassment at himself, scratching the back of his neck.

He was basically the sauvest boy in school, and normally didn't give two shits about what others thought of him, but with you . . . it was a whole different story. You kind of freaked him out, but in a good way, to say the least.

"Does it look like I have fucking English notes for you?" You asked rhetorically.

"Well, given that you have the highest marks in the class, and that I saw you making them earlier; yes, I think you do." He replied, making you hesitate slightly.

If it was anyone else in school, they wouldn't have even came to your door, let alone talk back to you. But here this boy was; attractive, and stupid, and angelic. You weren't sure how to feel.

You rolled your eyes, but he knew you weren't that annoyed. "Give me a second." You said, walking over to your desk, combat boots creaking against the old wooden floors of the mansion. You rummaged around your desk for a moment, before grabbing the poetry notes from the weeks classes. "Here. For the whole week. I noticed you weren't at school for any of the classes."

Warren was taken aback that you knew who he was, let alone that you knew he didn't arrive to lessons. He was also pretty surprised that you were kind enough to give him the whole stack of papers. After the initial bitchiness, you weren't actually that bad. And it hadn't even taken a few minutes for you to show that.

"Wow, thanks." He took the stapled pages from you with a pretty smile. He noticed that you put a lot of effort into school work. The notes where colourful, and highlighted, and written in curly cursive handwriting. You even did little drawings to match themes in the poems.

You cleared your throat at him, wondering why he still stood in your doorframe. He looked too comfortable in your presence, leaning against the frame with his one arm propped above his head.

"Are you gonna leave now, or . . . ?" You enquired, still standing a in front of him, arms crossed over your chest.

"That depends." He said, his features twisting into an expression that only portrayed the worst of intentions.

"On what?" You challenged, trying to hide a smile that wanted to break out on you face. It wasn't every day that an boy with angel wings bantered with you.

"If you have more 'Weezer' on that tape." He pointed over at your stereo, smiling widely as the song ended, and 'The Sweater Song' came on. "And bingo." He grinned, pushing passed you to walk into your room.

"You know, that wasn't an invite in." You told him as he made himself comfortable on your bed, notes discarded on the side-table under your lamp.

"I know . . . but I don't see you kicking me out."

You thought about that, and you were soon shrugging, closing your bedroom door.