➳London || WillNE & Friends Oneshots

memeulous; carvings

two teenagers, both alike in dignity
in a fair sixth form, where we lay our scene
from prepubescent grudge to new mutiny
where civil blood makes civil hands unclean
from forth the longlived hatred of these two foes
a pair of non-interest'd lovers take a knife
(but not in a suicide way)

college was not something i necessarily enjoyed, mostly because of the people around me. i enjoyed my classes - i was doing 3 a levels - english literature, psychology and english language, but there was one person in particular who ruined it for me.

george owen andrew.

he was this cocky, rude brown haired lad who was in my english literature class. during secondary school, we had every lesson together and i, at least, hated every second of it.

day 1;

i was enjoying a free period and, having finished all my work, i had 10 minutes to kill.

i gazed at the table and zoned out, subconsciously reading the engravings in the table. maybe i could do one.

i took my house key and thought for a moment.

what could i write? what would entice someone to respond?

'hey :)'

casual enough, right? i asked myself as i got up. after stuffing a folder and a couple of books into my bag and slinging it over my shoulder, i walked out of the library with an insatiable curiosity; who would respond, if anyone?

day 2;

after a relatively boring psychology lesson that resulted in a fair bit of work to do outside of class, i decided to just go to the library and work on it before i got behind. it also gave me an excuse to see if anyone had responded.

i located my table and gave a sigh of relief at seeing it empty. i pulled out a chair and sat down, looking at the new words.

'hey :) what work are u doing?'

i grinned and got my key out of my pocket. i tried to remind myself to pick up a pocket knife or something when i got home to make it easier to write.

'psychology, u?'

and then i had to get on with my work, but my mind wouldn't stop going on about who the mystery writer could be.

an hour after, i had an english literature class with george. he grinned at me as i walked in, and i shot him a glare.

i sat at my table, and thankfully our class was small enough to have a table per person. that avoided any potential conflict between me and george.

however, our teacher clearly was unaware of this conflict when she made george and i work together for the lesson as, in her words 'having the two most proficient students working together creates incredible work!'

"hey babe," he grinned as he took the seat next to me. i just groaned. i knew he was trying to piss me off.

"don't make this any harder than it has to be, george," i sighed and began to write.

"whatever, you love me really," he smirked and did his portion of the work.

day 7;

after a week of talking, we had instead been writing to eachother on a piece of paper we had stuck under the table with blu tack. carving words into the school library tables with knives wasn't exactly allowed.

the person who i had been talking to - who i'd found out was a male - was really nice and sweet. knowing i may have a message waiting for me under the table gave me motivation to go and work in the library, which was a bonus.

despite the fact that i had never met this guy, i had some kind of feelings for him. it was sad, i know - i had never met the guy. he just seemed so sweet, and what we were doing was kinda romantic, right? a story to tell the grandkids, not to sound creepy.

day 15;

i walked into the library only to see george sat at my table. the prick.

"this is my table, george. fuck off," i said as i got to the table, and be shot me a glare.

"i always work here, fuck off yourself,"

"i've never seen you at this table,"

"just sit on the other side if it's really that big of a deal, you picky bitch,"

and so i did. i reached under the table to find the paper but couldn't.

"what the fuck are you looking for?" he eyed me suspiciously.

"a piece of paper. i write to this random guy every time i'm in here," i rolled my eyes.

"i write to this random girl every time i'm in here," he replied.

"you're the guy?" i said at the same time he said "you're the girl?".

i didn't know how to feel. i hated george, but then again, had i ever given him much of a chance? i couldn't even remember why i hated him in the first place, and vice versa.

would it hurt to give the guy a chance?

had i really fallen for george of all people?

"what do you say about putting the past in the past and grabbing a drink with me after 6th period lit?" he smiled slightly, any resentment gone.

i nodded with a small smile. i liked the sound of that.

"i can't wait."

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i'm not 100% happy with this oneshot because i feel that it's too rushed, but i hope you enjoyed nonetheless! x