Black Magic || Muke

Chapter 5

A/N There's a photo of nerdy Luke on the side so when he's at school, that's how he dresses, and ill leave yall to imagine how he talks and stuff as a way to fit that look

Luke's POV

Ah, detention. The glorious confines that are meant to set a teenager straight. The initial idea was okay but what came of it was stupid.

Walking into the empty room is what made me realize how truly idiotic the system of punishment really is when it comes to school.

Ignoring the teacher’s ignorant nod of his head, I push my way past all the desks in the classroom, finally sitting in a chair that’s the absolute farthest from the teacher I could possibly get.

And let me tell you something. Less than twenty seconds in and I’m already so bored I think I may punch a wall… or a face, whichever’s closer when the time comes.

The chair I’m sitting on isn’t helping my situation either. It’s so hard I feel like I’m sitting on a rock and all I seriously want to do is kick my feet up on the table, but it’d completely defeat the purpose of this stupid ‘nerd facade’ that I’ve been pulling off for years.

After about fifteen minutes of blankly staring at the clean whiteboard at the front of the classroom, I feel a strong yet open aura hit me just as the door swings open.

Already being familiar with this particular person’s aura (as well as hearing an ‘ugh, of course’ from the teacher), I didn’t bother looking towards them as they entered the room. Michael.

I continue looking directly ahead of me, even when I feel the warmth and radiation of a body as Michael moves a chair next to mine and sits down, disregarding personal space and all it’s known for.

“Oh hey there, little buddy! Welcome to detention, my ‘home-away-from-home’.”

I can feel his breath on my ear as he talks. I turn my head towards him and give him an eyebrow that, apparently, makes him think he can continue his pointless chitchat.

“It can get pretty dangerous in here and usually it’s ‘every man for himself’ but I’m willing to make an exception for you. You’re quiet, super nerdy and a complete loser so frankly, if you didn’t stick by me, you’d get slaughtered.” He smiles.

Absolutely none of that made sense. “W-what are you t-talking about?”

His smile turns into smirk.

“When you’re in here Lucas, you’re my bitch.”

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is most definitely not where I was expecting this conversation to go, especially that quickly.

“W-what?”

“You know exactly what.”

My muscles tense a bit when I feel his hand grasp my leg, which then starts trailing higher and higher. Considering the teacher’s still in the room (why he was doing nothing was beyond me), it was once again vital I remain in my self-given act.

I seriously hate myself sometimes.

I choose to ignore my intensely beating heart and swiftly push his hand off of my leg. I look at him with wide, pleading eyes and tremble out, “Michael. S-stop. I don’t know what you’re talking a-about.”

His persona immediately changes to one of anger and frustration. He latches a hand onto my throat and my eyes widen in a panic, before realizing it’s just to keep me still. He takes off my ‘glasses’ and puts them on himself, obviously realizing that they’re fake.