Nottingham, England. 1998.
A place with burnt cigarettes, jet black shoes, button up shirts, and combed hair.
Things that almost every boy at Westview Charter School worships.
Westview being the one school that produces the kinds of men that society...
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Yuri knew that if he had to sit in his rock hard, wooden disappointment of a chair for one more god damn second........
A second that took a year to pass by as he listened to the deafening tick of the clock......
That he'd either have to drown himself in the firstfloor pool, or he'd just bring himself to death with boredom right there in the middle of the classroom.
And hell, either option sounded a lot better than having to listen to Ms. Fontaine's lecture on how Pride and Prejudice was the most beautiful piece of literature to ever grace the earth. LookI All hail Jane fucking Austen Yuri bitterly cursed up in his head, his thoughts swirling as his eyes rolled in resentment. For Christ's sake.....how can you spend a whole class period talking about how it was so perfect and fateful that Elizabeth had fallen for a moody asshole like Darcy?
If I had been Elizabeth, I would've gone into the marriage for the money that he so obviously had, and then left without a single kiss on the cheek or a solemn goodbye.
Because fuck, I would never fall for someone like Darcy.
But of course, Yuri knew that the only reason Ms. Fontaine was so fascinated in this classic love story was because her life didn't really involve a story quite like this one.
Hell, not even anything close.
He knew all about how her husband had divorced her early on in the marriage and left for some other woman, probably the first one who threw herself at him since married men are such a commodity.
Don't ask how or why he had figured that out.
Yuri was either wickedly observant or way too curious, both traits having a close to similar meaning.
Hell, maybe he was just so god damn bored of his own life that he had now resulted to entertaining himself with the boring, yet endlessly dramatic lives of his fellow teachers and students.
No one would ever know.
But it didn't matter.
He couldn't help but pity Ms. Fontaine anyways.
And not only because she was unfortunate in love, but because she had chosen to put a Jane Austen novel at the top of her standards as to what her life should be like.
Life was not according to Austen.
In his opinion, it was according to Stephen King, seeming as it is a hell hole.
