Playful Yearning

by Raven Park

What if none of the Guardians of the Galaxy events never happened. What if the crew know each-other but not in the way we know them? Well, now they're stuck in high school, but Gamora knows something. She knows that there's more to life than what it seems. She's used, abused, dead on the inside; but is that all she is? Is that all she can be? Is the world truly not a galaxy?

1. Chapter 1

Playful Yearning

By Caira D

Main Idea:

Warning: Rated M for language, graphic violence and depression. What if everything was normal? No galaxy saving all the time; just school, love, conflicts, studying, and jokes that make you laugh for days? Unfortunately, Gamora doesn't believe in that. She knows there's something more. Gamora is a senior in high school, her best friend's name is Drax, a muscular, serious af male, the preps are Peter Quill, Markus Young (fan-made character), and Francis Greenday (also fan-made), and best of all, the avoid me no matter what types are limited to two people, and their names are Rocket and Groot. Yes, everyone is normal in this. This takes place on Earth! Just turned to year 2000 in fact! No spaceships, no wars, no 100% dicks, just school and Gamora's fear. And YOU! Yes, you, you little reader you ?! Get to see, well, read, Gamora's growing fear and suspicion of life's greater purpose.

Chapter 1 out of who knows how many since it depends on how you guys feel ?

What the hell! Darkness, oh darkness, something I'm oddly familiar with. Something I hate, something that fills my fear, something that adds to my suspicion, something I crave. The darkness is my only escape. My only option. I feel like I'm falling, no, no, descending into hell. Something I just want to go to already. My life is dull, I don't know where I want to go, what I want to be. I get picked on by the preps and soon everyone follows, well, except for Drax, he's always had my back. My parents are abusive, they hate me, wish for me to be dead, blame everything on me. So, bring it on, I'm ready for the worst since one way or the other I'm going to hell. My parents are older, wiser, maybe their words are outrageous and unacceptable, but they may still hold a truth behind them. I feel the light burning across my concealed face, but I don't bother approaching it, instead I stay still, then a familiar buzzing noise springs to life and I jolt awake, the darkness replaced with the sight of my tiny bedroom.

Buzz, Buzz, Buzz.

I groan loudly and throw my hand to my left, immediately clicking off my stupid alarm clock. All I can do right now is think of the darkness I feel whenever I close my eyes, the darkness that comforts me, the only thing that will always be truly there for me. Even Drax will see that everyone hates me, and he'll soon follow. He won't follow me into destruction, no one will so he won't. He'd rather save himself like everyone else. I shove my white covers off of my tiny legs and hop out of bed, groaning as my bare feet hit the hardness of the bare wood floor. Really there's only three things in my room; a bed, a stand-up mirror and a dresser containing my clothes and my make-up (that I bought with my own money when I was thirteen by the way) sits on top of it, the dark room (that has no windows by the way) conceals my reflection in the mirror, so I walk over to my door with a sigh and flip the cracked light switch up, turning my single bulb of light on. I walk back over to my dresser, ignoring my reflection that will just show me the same old same old, my black tank top and shorts, like really short shorts that I use to sleep in since I can't afford my own pajamas. My family isn't poor or anything, but they barely keep me alive, so what's the point in buying me something fancy? I glance over at the clock and notice the time, 6:10. "Shit," I mutter, knowing my parents have been expecting me at the dining room table for ten minutes now. "I spent ten minutes thinking about darkness, nice one Gamora," I murmur, pulling out the second draw (of the four) on my dresser to reveal my school clothes, and I pick a tight maroon t-shirt, slip out of my, ahem, 'pajamas', and squeeze myself inside of the soft fabric, and I pick out a somewhat decent pair of black pants that are skin tight, this outfit normally gets me the last hate, and I'm already off to a bad start, so why not? I slip on some low black, silky socks and throw black three-inched high-heeled boots on over them, smiling at the warmth my feet feel.

I grab my concealer, black eye-shadow and red lipstick and walk in front of the mirror, my tan skin shining in the light of my room. I put my make-up on the floor next to my bare feet and grab my brush (on top of my dresser) and start running the thing through my tangled jet-black hair. I don't bother messing with it after I've finished smoothing it, and I grab my make-up again and apply the concealer around the needed places (my bruises), apply the eye shadow, then the lipstick and I look like a normal school girl in no-time. I hop out of my room and look to my right, seeing a single door down the carpeted hallway (my bathroom), then stroll down the left part of my hallway, where pretty much right next to my poor excuse for a room is my parents room, which I can never go in (I learned the hard way, don't ask), and then to the right side of the wall a gap opens where my kitchen, but as my parents call it, a dining room is, and right beside it is the living room where the broken-down front door is. "Late again, I see?" my father's familiar voice hums, echoing across the room. "No breakfast for you then," my mother chants back, and I look to see two large figures working swiftly on something on the stove. I roll my eyes, knowing that I still have about 40 minutes until my bus arrives, and I only live a few minutes away from the stop. Screw it. "I'm going to go now," I say, but my voice comes out as a low and disgusting croak, as if I'm using my voice for the first time. "You're not going anywhere. How many times do we have to tell you that you always have to be to breakfast on time. Do you really not want food? You're already skinny enough," my father says, turning with a mischievous smirk on his chubby face of his. His nicely shaved head shines in the kitchens light, his dark brown eyes and wide lips scare me as he steps ever so closer. My mother, on the other hand, is hard at work, her glistening red hair almost distracting me. I've never gotten such a good look at my parents before, eye contact is forbidden in my household after all. "I need to leave, I just applied my make-up and a new bruise will appear half-way through the day make-up or not, so leaving a mark would not be very smart father, someone will discover that you've been beating me," I say, bowing my head as I inch closer and closer to the door. My father growls, but even he sees the logic in my words, and he wipes himself back around and starts to clean more dishes with my mother. I stifle my sighs of relief as I rush out the door and run down to my bus stop, deep down inside I know that what the school kids do to me is way, way better than my parents. I'm afraid to go home, at least school won't last forever, it's late March after all, and I'm a senior who has no plan for college.

After what feels like an eternity, the yellow bus arrives and I hop on without hesitation and take my seat on the very first seat to the left side of the bus. Right behind the driver, where he can see me and protect me from the violence. My bus driver, Mr. Adel, may be on the older side (like 55) but he's still the closest thing to a father I have. This bus is my only true safe place. He tries his best to get my bullying to stop, he tells the principals and guidance counselors but I am yet to get out of one school day unharmed. "How are you today Mr. Adel?" I ask as he fires up the engine and closes the door as the last student comes in. "I'm fine, how was your morning Gamora?" he asks back, his old, creaking voice still comes out sweet and he even hints at sympathy through his facial expressions. I nod and reply, "could've been better, but I'm alright." He smiles politely, his angel-like white hair glistening in the sun. "I hope your school day is the same," he replies and I nod, "thank you." Once the bus goes, it never stops, at least, that's what it feels like. I drown myself away from the constant laughing and jokes behind me, and I especially ignore the leader of the preps, Peter Quill, who sits in the very back of the bus. I snap myself back into reality when the four-story white-brick building comes into view, and I glance back and see Peter Quill sitting there, not talking or even smiling, but his eyes are locked on me. I gulp and as soon as the bus doors open I jump out and walk to the entrance, not bothering to look ahead or behind me, I just keep my gaze on the floor since I know exactly where I'm going, my first class, aka homeroom. I walk into the building and finally look up to see the brown square floors and white walls and ceilings that are smooth with no visible cracks, which makes me remember my tiny room with all the cracks in the world. I look around and see the oval-shaped room I'm in, and I recognize it as the lobby, where the security guard is wandering the walls and there's a front desk to my far left, but more importantly, I've been standing still for too long and there's a staircase leading to the next floor in front of me. I sigh and turn to go up them until warm, long hands grab my wrists and I gasp and turn around, seeing Peter Quill's beautiful face. Beautiful? WHAT THE HELL AM I THINKING?! "Listen I've already had a rough morning, so if you could save slamming me into a locker until the end of the day I'd much appreciate it," I growl, trying to pull my wrist away, but his grip is too strong, I mean, he is in the body-building club after all so what did I expect?

I struggle to move until I calm myself down enough to look into his sea of eyes (blue eyes for short). I see the regret in his eyes and my snarl turns into a frown, and my hand relaxes slowly, but I know that I need to get to homeroom, only five minutes left until the bell rings and I'm still another minute away. "What's wrong?" I ask, and I immediately take them back. Why do I care about him so much? Why is he growing on me? Why is he even looking at me in the first place? "I'm not like them, I'm not a prep, I'm so, so, so, sorry Gamora. I want to get to know you, help fix this awful mess I've created. I heard about what your parents do to you from Drax, what you think of me, what you think of life, and it hurts me so much to know that I caused that for hating you for whatever reason," he softly explains, his deep voice making me shudder. I just want to reach out, hug him, tell him that this will be all okay and that I forgive him. I curse under my breath, I can't possibly forgive him! He made my life a living hell! I can't believe I'm even talking to him, I can't believe I'm looking at him. "How could I possibly trust you after everything you've done to me, you hate me, you despise me and now you're all like, 'hey maybe I made her life too much of a living hell so let's be friends cause she'll totally be cool with that!'" I mimic, my face turning itself back into a snarl. "Please Gamora, you have to believe me, and isn't it worth the risk? Drax says you just want to end yourself already, so what else have you got to lose? What if I am telling the truth and your life can get better?" he questions, raising his eyebrows, and I can't help but stare in awe at his face and body structure, and, more importantly, I can't help but want to believe him. I slowly nod, "fine, what do you have in mind?" His face lights up and his lips curve in a smile, and I can't help but smile with him. "Meet me in front of the school when the days over," he simply says, and he releases my wrist and walks away, clearly his homeroom is on the other side of the school. All I do is stand there in complete shock until I feel a hand on my shoulder, causing me to jump. I spin around and see a tall, well-built man standing there, his dark skin and bald head makes me smile. Drax. "Let's go to homeroom," I say with a gulp, hoping he didn't hear or see any of that.

~Lunch~

My classes actually went pretty smoothly, the main preps, Markus and Francis, left me alone during my algebra and history class, and the nobodies didn't approach me, asking me to join them, in German and Band, so maybe things are getting better. Or, maybe this is just a dream and my fantasies of living a happy life for just one school day are actually not happening. I enter the lunch room that happens to be on the front floor, next to the lobby, and immediately spot Drax sitting in his normal spot at our table, the smallest with the nobodies and us. No one sits there except for us, and the preps all sit in the farthest table away from us, so we're all good. I rush over to my spot (next to Drax, of course) and sit down, my smile ceasing to fade. Rocket, a short pale man sits there, looking more pale than usual. I look closely and see Groot, his buddy, a tall but skinny, tan-skinned man with dark chocolate-like eyes looking worried. I turn to Drax and he's shivering, and my smile fades, and I see what he means. The preps are walking over here, towards the three empty seats across from Drax and me. I gulp nervously as Peter sits across from me, Markus across from Drax, and Francis across from Rocket. The hairs on my neck shoot straight up as Peter extends his hand across the table and takes my hand. "I truly do want to help you, but these two don't," he says, and I feel heat rushing to my cheeks as the warmth of his hand circulates into mine. "W-What?" I stammer, lightly pulling my hand away before I turn fully red. "I tried to stop them, since I see them hurting you, and I can't bear to see this anymore," he replies, his eyes clouding up with tears. "What happened to you?" I ask nervously, and the other two laugh and stand up. "I saw that what they were doing was wrong, and I knew I needed to stop that, so please, come with me to my table, there's a table in the back that's split in half, there's only two spots back there left, for you and me," he says with a gulp. Markus grabs Groot's short brown hair and throws him onto the ground, taking his spot, and Markus does the same to Rocket, grabbing his black hair and even ripping a chunk of it out in the process. Even though I think Rocket and Groot are creepy and unusual, I can't help but feel anger boil up inside of me. "What the hell?" I ask, standing up. The other two stand and Peter gulps. "Guys, stop," he says quietly but fiercely. I snap my head back to look at Peter and growl. "They just threw two innocent kids onto the ground, they haven't ever done anything to you and that's what you say? Stop? That's it? You fucking coward," I say, my lower lip quivering. Peter's eyes cloud with tears again. "I don't want to fail you like I did my mother Gamora, but I still have fears, just like you," he says, his frown deepening. "Stop, now!" I hiss, and Peter stands and walks to my side. "Just leave them alone, they have nothing to do with my decision," Peter says calmly. Oh, you little fuckers. Being butthurt and hurting people that don't even bother you just because your friend is leaving you? Markus and Francis grab Drax by the shoulders and lift him up, making a scream explode through the air. It took a few seconds for me to realize that I was the one screaming. They throw Drax into the cafeteria walls, right next to the staircase leading to the hallway. "Drax!" I call, running forward until I feel arms stopping me and completely pinning me to a nearby wall. "NO!" I scream as Markus and Francis continuously punch Drax in the gut. I look back and see Peter trying to get the person restraining me off of me, and I almost smile, but remember Drax and start fighting back again. Drax manages to throw Francis down, his flowing, jet-black hair hitting the ground satisfies me, but I don't smile. I see Drax cough up blood as Markus throws him to the floor and kicks him. Suddenly, Peter throws the person off of me and I run over to Drax and stand in front of him, Markus pauses, clearly about to kick again. "Cease this nonsense!" I hear our guidance counselor, Mr. K, call, rushing over to us with three security guards behind him. I back away and practically trip over my own feet. "Hey," I hear Peter whisper from behind me, his warm breath settling on my neck. "He'll be alright, I'm so sorry Gamora," he continues, stepping in front of me, but not blocking my view of Drax. At this rate I don't even care, the blood loss from times I've been beaten so hard from my parents and school kids alike, the stress of work, and the fight I just witnessed build up on me, and I start falling, but Peter catches me and wraps me into a hug, and I don't care if I hate him, I don't care if he barely tried to help; I'm just grateful for the comfort. I softly sob into his maroon leather jack, but he doesn't mind, he just gently rubs my back as I replay that whole scenario in my head. "Let's go," one of the three male security guards say, and Peter pulls away slowly, his beautiful eyes staring into mine. "You can hold onto if you'd like, I'd think nothing of it," he whispers, and I nod, barely comprehending his words, but I lean on his shoulder and grab his hand firmly as we walk up the small four stairs and up to the nurse's office, where Drax is badly hurt.

~After ten minutes of a montage of patching Drax up, oh, and there's lots of silence~

I still have my head lying perfectly against Peter's shoulder as I watch the nurse inspect the wounds on his stomach, and I replay the fight one last time in my brain before I look up at Peter, and he must've felt my hair moving since he looks down as well. We sit across from Drax, on the nice red couch that is somehow more comfortable than my bed. Drax is on the verge of unconsciousness, and Peter's eyes have been full of sadness since we've got here. Meanwhile, I've been the mess who's been crying so much I'm positive I've left a stain in Peter's jacket. "What's on your mind, well, other than Drax?" he asks, his voice full of sympathy. "I wanted to thank you," I say, knowing that even if he was being questionable at first, he literally took care of me back there and right now, so I guess I owe him. "For comforting me and pulling that guy off of me," I finish, closing my eyes. I feel him brush a stray strand of hair out of my face and I can't help but smile. Despite everything's that's happened, I can't help but notice how natural this feels. Me leaning on his shoulder is just one example. Being around him, the craving, the yearning; it's killing me. Why do I feel this way? "No problem," he simply says, and I can practically hear the smile spreading across his face. I open my eyes and see that my ears did not deceive me. "You should smile more often," I reply, smiling in return, "you have a nice one." He chuckles and nods in reply, "you should too, you look even more beautiful when you're smiling." I don't even attempt to hide my blush, but I avert my eyes and turn my gaze to the now-unconscious Drax. "I'm sorry, that sounded weird, but you really are beautiful, and I hate that my crew and I made you feel otherwise. I know that I should be on my knees, begging for forgiveness, but after what just happened..." he trails off and I look back up at him. "You want me to have some time before I decide to forgive you or not?" I finish with a question, and he nods. "I'll still meet you after school if you'd like," I say, and I feel his body stiffen for a few seconds before he starts relaxing like normal again. "R-Really? I'd like that," he whispers, and we both turn our gazes to Drax and the nurse who finishes patching him up and approaches us. "The two who started the attack are in the office, however, Peter, they would like to question you," she says sweetly, and her blonde hair shines in the light coming in from the window in the back of the dark room. "You, however," the nurse says, looking at me, and my eyes light up. "You can stay here as long as you'd like dear," she finishes with a sweet smile, and as much as I'd like to stay, I don't know why but I feel like I should answer questions too. I let my smile fade and I shake my head slowly, "I'm going with Peter, I was there and I know the first two who got attacked, so I can answer whatever they'd like," I reply, feeling Peter squeeze my hand gratefully. The nurse nods and smiles, "Of course, that makes sense, I'll call the office to let them know you're coming." I nod my thanks and we stand, still hand-in-hand, but I walk over to Drax and put my free hand on his forehead. "It should've been me," I mutter, and after a few seconds of waiting I walk out of the nurse's office (which this one is on the third story, but there's one office on every floor in case there's an extremely rare case of a broken leg and no elevators are available.

Luckily for us, there's only two main offices; the information office in the lobby (normally just called the 'main office') and the principal's office, which is also on this floor. Even more luck! The office is only a few classrooms away from the nurse's office. I nervously smile at Peter as we walk to the office and enter it, where there's simply a desk and two chairs in front of it. Markus and Francis are sitting in the two chairs and turn back to see us, chuckling as they see our hands locked together. Mr. P, or Mr. Polyuminer, is sitting behind his desk, his face rested in a stressed-out position that I've had before, and I squeeze Peter's hand as we walk forward and in front of the desk. "I assume you are Gamora and Peter. I'd like to hear what you saw today from Gamora first, then Peter," Mr. P says in a deep tone, clearly hating every second that he has to deal with nonsense like this. "I just watched as Markus and Francis pulled Rocket and Groot out of their seats, then they forced Drax against a wall and started beating him, and someone started to hold me back from getting to him. Peter set me free, but as soon as I stepped in front of Drax the security guards showed up, so it didn't go too, too far," I say strongly, trying to show the preps how much I'm willing to fight to get my old, not-so-bad life back. "So, Peter had nothing to do with this?" he asks, raising his right eyebrow. I nod, "you can watch the security cameras, he didn't do anything, he tried to stop them too," I say, looking at Peter who smiles in return. "Do you know who grabbed you?" he asked, writing something down on a filled-up piece of paper. "No," I simply say, but Peter clears his throat, "I do, his name is Sebastian Greenday, Francis's brother," Peter says, no emotion in his voice, which makes me worried. "Alright, thank you. Anything else you two want to add?" he asks, looking up at the two of us. I turn to Peter and he shakes his head, "no, thank you though," I say as we walk out and wait for school to be over.

~Outside, after school~

"Here's my number and address," I say, handing a piece of folded paper to Peter as he hands his to me. I giggle as we exchange numbers and addresses, since you know, Peter lives close to me, so why not? "You want to come over to my place tonight, at eight?" he asks, and I immediately nod, and his face brightens up. "Great! See you then, I'll give you two a minute, but I'll save you a spot on the bus!" Peter calls as he runs to our bus, and I laugh, then turn to Drax. "You two are friends?" he asks in concern. "Um, yeah. He tried to stop all this and he's trying to be my friend, to fix what he believes broke me. He also let me ruin his leather jacket with my tears during lunch today, so I think he's fine," I reply with a smile as I inch closer, careful not to touch his stomach. "That's not important, I haven't seen you since your beating, so, how are you feeling?" I ask with a small frown. "I'm alright, it only hurt for a minute, when I stood up," he replies with a smile, his dark skin still glistening in the sun. "Better go after him, I'll be alright," he says at my silence. "You sure?" I ask, frowning and resting my hand on his cheek. "Go, I don't want to say it again," he says playfully and I giggle but back away and head towards my bus. You know, despite everything that just happened, I think this was the best school day I've had. Sure, they hurt my best friend, but I actually went a full school day without any new bruises.

I find my bus with ease and hop in, seeing Peter in the first seat right up against the window makes my heart start beating faster. He doesn't notice me until I sit down next to him and he smiles one of his gorgeous smiles. "Talking to your boyfriend?" he asks playfully and I hit him lightly with my elbow. "Best friend you mean?" I ask with a smile. "Gamora, did you make a new friend?" our bus driver asks with a smile, clearly not recognizing Peter despite his reputation. "Yes Mr. Adel, and he even lives like right next to me," I say louder than intended, and Peter chuckles beside me. I feel my cheeks burning but I don't look at him, instead I keep my eyes steady on Mr. Adel. "That's great dear! I hope you two stay friends until college and beyond," he says excitedly. I smile sweetly, "thank you Mr. Adel." He nods and sits down, immediately starting to drive since he always waits an extra three minutes for late students, our bus is in the back after all. "Everything alright between you and him?" Peter suddenly asks, and I tilt my head until I realize what he means. "Yeah, yeah, we're good. But stop worrying about me, tell me about you," I say, leaning closer, but my mind sparks and fills me in. Let me guess! Let me guess! My mind pleas, and I play along. He probably loves music and has a picture of David Hasselhoff in his jacket, pretending that he's his father and his mother shared all her favorite pop songs from back in the 1980's with him and now he won't go anywhere without his music player, aka the Walkman. He has a strange passion for flying and likes to tell stories of ravagers who kidnapped him as a kid after his mother's passing and used him for being small, while in reality they were just protecting him from his real father who happened to be a maniac. My mind throws together these ideas at once and I smile as he opens his mouth, but my smile changes more and more into the shape of an o as he speaks. He just repeated exactly what my mind said. He even went in depth on the story of ravagers and aliens and some guys named Ronan and Ego. What. The actual. Fuck?

A/N: Hey guys! Please leave reviews to let me know what you think and leave predictions on what you think will happen between the lovely Gamora and the charming Peter Quill, aka Star Lord. I apologize for making Rocket a quiet kid, but trust me, that changes ?! Good reading and good day/night! Follow and favs are appreciated but I'm all for them reviews! Thanks in advance! ~Caira

P.S.- this story won't be updated every day but at least two-three times every week should be good, I mean, I still have other fanfics to write, and, if this story gets good reviews and favs and follows, then sure, I'll try to update closer to five or six days a week you know? Thanks so much again! Bye!