Disclaimer: I do not own any Fairy Tail characters nor "The Perks of Being a Wallflower". I only own this story's plot and OCs.

"We are infinite."

Freshman Natsu Dragneel is always watching in silence from the sidelines until two charismatic seniors take him under their wings to show him the true fun of life. Beautiful, free-spirited Lucy and her fearless stepbrother Gray shepherd Natsu through new friendships, first love, burgeoning sexuality, bacchanalian parties, midnight screenings of The Rocky Horror Picture Show and the quest for that perfect song.

always there,

never seen

Chapter 1: Hey, Are You Really There?

January February March April May June July AUGUST September October November December

Dear friend,

I am writing to you because she said you'd listen and understand and didn't try to sleep with that person at that party even though you could have. Please don't try to figure out who I am. I really don't want you to do that. I just need to know people like you exist. Like if you met me, you wouldn't think I was the weird kid who spent time in the hospital and I wouldn't make you nervous.

"Natsu! Dinner!

I stopped and looked down at my finished letter. My hand writing may not have been the best, but it was by far better than most people in my generation that treated handwriting like their chores: with laziness and gave only half the effort they needed.

"Natsu Dragneel! It's dinnertime!"

I sighed and ran a hand through my messy locks. I decided it was better to leave for dinner at my mom's second call rather than ignore her. She could get pretty loud when she felt like it.

I hope it's okay for me to think that. You see I haven't really talked to anyone beside my family all summer. But tomorrow is my first day of high school ever and I need to turn things around.

I walked into the living room with a half-smile. My dad was sitting on his favorite chair, reading glasses, paper and all, while the television flickered from scene to scene of a show in black and white.

I looked around. "Where's Wendy?" I asked.

My father didn't even spare him a glance. "She should be coming home anytime now." His voice was always apathetic when he read the newspaper. I didn't even understand why Dad read the newspaper anymore. It was easier to just read it on the iPad Mom had bought him for Christmas.

The sound of a car was the only thing that made Dad look toward the window. I could always see the disdain written on Dad's face when we heard the coughing of a dying car. My sister was home with her boyfriend.

You see I have a plan. As I enter the school for the first time, I will visualize what it will be like on the last day of my senior year. Unfortunately, I counted and that's…

I walked down the hallway, books clutched in my arms. I hadn't set a word since I stepped out of my house. Wendy had left me for her friends, whispering to me harshly that I was not to bother her or make a fool out of her, meaning I was not to do anything that could remotely damaged her reputation.

The hallways were condensed with people I had seen before, but never really met. Lockers opened and slammed, teachers were shouting at students and handing out the first detentions of the year, and old friends caught up. And then there was me, shuffling in the hallways and avoiding everyone's eyes.

I heard a whoop and turned my head a little. I saw varsity jackets, groomed hair and arrogant smirks from three boys. Two of them were tall and buff while the one in the middle was half a head shorter, but rowdier than all of three of them. He was still tall and buff, but not as much.

He let out another yell, hand messing up his silver hair. "I am totally psyched for the game next Friday!" He stopped a pink-haired girl as she walked on by with her friends. He threw her one of those sleazy grins most girls fell for. "You're going to come, right, Sherry?"

Sherry tittered, along with her friends, and blushed. "Wouldn't dream of missing it," she answered before moving through the crowd with her posse as if she owned the hallway.

Football was a known sport Dad loved, but I didn't particularly have much knowledge of. I had tried to read about it so I could keep up and knew the basics, but when it came to specifics, I was clueless.

I threw myself against a wall when the guy and the two other football players began tussling a little bit, laughing, and not even sparing me a glance.

…1,385 days from now. Just…1,385 days…

I shuffled down the lunch line, trying to open my mouth to reject or accept the lunch lady's offer, but as always, I was ignored and they plopped whatever they saw fit onto my tray. I looked at Wendy and Mest. They seemed immersed in their own conversation as they walked down the line with me.

In the meantime, I'd hoped that my sister Wendy and her boyfriend Mest would've let me each lunch with them with their earth club.

As Wendy and Mest moved, I looked at her imploringly, but Wendy gave me a quick, non-apologetic smile. "Seniors only," she murmured before moving next to Mest.

As I picked out my silverware, I could hear Wendy make a fuss over Mest. "What are you doing with that plastic spork?" she asked. She sounded disgusted as if a spork were a dying cow.

Mest looked at her in confusion. "Well I don't want to bring back silverware," he drawled. I felt bad for the poor guy. He was trying to conserve.

But Wendy didn't seem to like the idea. She groaned and seized the spork, throwing it back into its slot. She took two forks and spoons with a roll of her eyes. "Mest, you're earth club treasurer," she emphasized as she handed her puzzled boyfriend the silverware. "Come on."

We all left the lunch line with Wendy and Mest walking in one direction and me the other. I maneuvered my way through tables and kept my eyes observant. I would study people's faces, but wouldn't linger in the case they caught my eyes and thought I was challenging them. High school was truly a cage to see if the best would survive.

I caught the cerulean eyes of a white-haired girl and gave a half-smile. I waved at her. She didn't wave back.

When my sister said no, I thought maybe my old friend Lisanna would want to have lunch with me. In middle school, Lisanna was very fun to be around, but…now she doesn't like to say hi to me anymore.

I looked over to find another familiar face. He swept silver bangs out of his face as he cracked jokes with his friends clad in varsity jackets and styled hair.

And then there's Lyon Vastia. Before my older brother Gajeel went to play football for Fairy Tail University, he and Lyon played together. So, I thought maybe he'd say hi to me. But Brad's a senior. And I'm me. So who am I kidding?

I sat down at a table void of trash and people, and set down my tray. As I ate, I watched everyone. I watched how people faked laugh to get others to like them. I watched how that one girl had flipped her hair so many times that the back of her head was a mess, but she was doing it for the boy she was flirting with, so in her eyes, the consequences must have been worth it. I watched as that boy a grade ahead of me tried flirting with two girls who appeared to a a year ahead of him and wooed them by keeping his hand in his dark hair and smirking at them.

I could see all facades. I could see how the seniors separated themselves from lesser beings of upperclassmen like myself, picking on the weak or reinforcing with their seniority they were allowed to do what they pleased.

High school was cruel.

On the bright side, one senior decided to make fun of the teacher instead of the freshmen.

I sat in the back of my next class. The position wasn't something I had been assigned; I chose the seat. It was more convenient for me. I could have sat with the others in the room, but they would either disregard me or I could be made fun of. So I took the back table with my new shop textbook and no one questioned it.

A guy got up from his seat and made his way to the front of the teacher's desk. He didn't look like a freshman. He was tall with hair darker than black and eyes that seemed very serious, but in a playful way. He had turned his back on the class and everyone began wondering what he was doing.

When he turned back around, the class burst out into laughter and even I smiled. There was a poorly drawn scar over his left eye and a mock-serious look in his eyes.

He even drew on Mr. Dreyar's legendary scar with a grease pencil.

He began to pace in front of the desk. "Now, class," he began in a deep voice, making everyone snigger, "I'm here to teach you about shit that doesn't even matter in real life. We could learn more at a whorehouse than here! "

The class began laughing even more when our real shop teacher, Mr. Dreyar, stood behind him, arms crossed and an amused smile on his face. When the guy realized we were laughing a little too hard, Mr. Dreyar made his appearance.

Mr. Dreyar sat on the edge of his desk and sighed. "I heard you were going to be in my class," he observed. "Are you proud to be a senior taking a freshman shop class, Grayson?"

The black-haired boy turned to Mr. Dreyar with a look saying he had crossed a line. "Look, my name is Gray. Either you call me Gray or you call me nothing," Gray stated, giving an option.

Mr. Dreyar harrumphed in the amused way and smirked. "Okay…Nothing…" The class erupted into fits of laughter again and I managed to smile while Gray seemed unimpressed. "Why don't you go take your seat?"

Gray gave an overdramatized bow. "Anything for you, master," he pledged, giving the class another thing to laugh at. He sauntered back to his desk already filled with three other freshmen.

I felt really bad for Gray. He wasn't doing the impersonation to be mean or anything. He was just trying to make us freshmen feel better.

"Nothing, why don't you read first?"

Gray shrugged and opened up the textbook while the rest of the class did the same. He cleared his throat and began reading. "All right. Chapter One: Surviving your fascist shop teacher who needs to put kids down to feel big…" He paused when the class laughed again and Mr. Dreyar glared at him. Gray turned the student next to him and said loudly, "Oh wow, this is useful, guys. We should read on."

It was safe to say Mr. Dreyar was not pleased and made another student read aloud. I watched as Gray made faces at Mr. Dreyar, irritating the man even further to the point that Gray was almost throttled out of the room.

My last class of the day is Advanced English, and I'm really excited to finally learn with the smartest kids in school.

I walked into English class about to head to the back of the room when name tags stopped me from doing so. It seemed that this class was organized by alphabetical order going up and down each row. I slid into my seat that was two rows shy of being in the back and brought out my binder and pencil. Books were being passed down rows and I reached to grab the last two meant for me and the person behind me. As I reached for my books, the girl next to me turned to look at me with a smile that wasn't friendly.

She looked me up and down. "Nice scarf…faggot," she insulted with a self-righteous smirk.

I looked at her with a raised eyebrow and passed back the last book.

Believe it or not, she's gotten straight A's since kindergarten.

The teacher entered the classroom as a man of character. His hair was a mess of darkish blue, the kind of blue you would describe with the sea. But the most interesting thing was the tattoo around his right eye. It was an intricate shape with maroon as coloring. Never had I seen a teacher with a tattoo.

"Shh," he shushed the class, drawing all eyes on him. "I'm Mister Fernandes. I'm going to be your teacher for freshman English.." He observed them all with a smile and introduced himself briefly before jumping right into business. He began pacing up and down rows. "This semester, we're going to be focusing on Harper Lee's To Kill a Mocking Bird. Genius book."

His voice was drowned out for a few moments when everyone around me groaned and complained.

Mr. Fernandes continued like he didn't hear about their whining. "Now who'd like to get out of the first pop quiz?"

Everyone muttered his or her agreement and raised their hand while I sunk down into my seat in silence.

Mr. Fernandes nodded. "I'm shocked. Well, you can get out of the quiz if you can tell me which author invented the paperback book," he decided.

Nobody answered. I knew the answer, but I didn't dare raise my hand. I stared down at my clear sheet of notebook paper and my pencil and began to write.

"Anyone? He was British. This man also invited the cereal," Mr. Fernandes hinted. He took off the hat of a guy a few rows to my right and continued his speech. "In fact, the third chapter of his novel, he had a man hanging from a cliff by his fingernails. Hence the term 'cliffhanger.' Anybody?"

No one answered.

A girl diagonal from me piped up and answered his question with a question. "William Shakespeare?"

"That's a great guess, but no. He didn't write novels," Mr. Fernandes said. I could hear him coming closer to my desk. He offered once, twice, three times if anyone knew, but gave up shortly after the third attempt for participation. He was next to me. "The correct answer is…"

I slunk into my seat when he paused next to me and I could feel his eyes wander to my paper. There it was, the answer he was seeking.

Charles Dickens.

He looked around the room with a wide smile. "Charles Dickens," he finished, glancing down at me. I could see him asking me a silent question, but I chose to look down at my paper.

He walked away and to the front of the room. "However, if you and I would have gone to a Shakespeare play, it would have cost us four pennies. We would have put those pennies in a metal box." He stood behind his desk, looking at the students interestedly. "They would have locked it in an office. And that's where we get the term…?"

Answers and guesses were called out from everywhere. "Cash register!" seemed to be the most popular. Some even ventured to say "Office Max" or "Dick Fuck Fuck". I ignored their immature and unintelligent answers and began writing again.

"I'll give you a free A on anything except for the final exam if you get this right," Mr. Fernandes offered, upping the ante.

More cries were heard, desperate or bored. I ignored them and finished my answer. I saw Mr. Fernandes look over to me with a raised eyebrow as if inquiring if I was going to answer. Instead, I played dumb and toyed with my pencil, looking down at my sheet.

"Box office," I heard Mr. Fernandes say.

Everyone groaned in disappointment while others openly swore. All I did was give a huff silent laughter and smile down at my correct answer. I was put in a class filled with the most intelligent kids in my grade? It certainly did not seem like it.

RIIIING

The classroom was flushed out in less than thirty seconds. I guess that would be a hyperbole, but it seemed students were eager to leave and continue with their normal lives. I was the last one out, making my way up the aisle when Mr. Fernandes turned to me. "You should learn to participate," he suggested.

I looked at him once, but continued on my way to the door.

"Why didn't you raise your hand?"

I stopped at the door and reluctantly gave Mr. Fernandes my attention, eyes darting from his to the wall to the floor. He wasn't an intimidating person at all, but looking a person in the eye for more than ten seconds wasn't my forte.

"They call you the 'teacher's pet'?" Mr. Fernandes pressed. When I didn't answer, he continued: "'Freak'? That kind of thing. I used to get tattoo freak." He snorted at the name. "I mean really?"

I nodded quietly, my eyes flicking from him to the window behind him.

Mr. Fernandes sighed. "I heard you had a tough time last year. But they say if you make one friend on the first day, you're doing okay."

I nodded again. "Thanks, sir, but if my English teacher is the only friend I make today, that would be really depressing," I tried explaining.

"Yeah," Mr. Fernandes chuckled, "I can see that."

I allowed myself to give a hesitant smile. "Don't worry, Mister Fernandes, I'm okay," I assured. "Thanks though."

With that, I spun around as the final bell rang. The hallways were beginning to look barren as a few groups and couples walked here and there. I walked past the main office to catch a glimpse of Gray with the ridiculous scar over his eye. I could catch a few words of him explaining why he had to take shop class before I was harshly bumped into.

"Hey, look, freshman fag!" came a shout filled with snobby superior senior attitude.

My book was ripped out of my hands and I saw smirking face of a senior guy in front of me skipping backwards with my book in his hands. He laughed and ripped half the cover off my book before letting it drop onto the ground.

"Whoops. My bad," he called as he walked away though I doubt he was as apologetic as his words made out to be. A few girls laughed at his stunt while I looked at them with fleeting eyes. Upperclassmen were all the same. They picked on the weak and underclass for their amusement and there was nothing we could do about it. We had to endure it until the last day of their senior year.

I stooped to grab my book and ripped cover when no one else bothered. People walked by and laughed at my apparent humiliation, but I did not bother to listen. It was better to ignore it than to be embarrassed.

Well…I have only 1,384 days to go. Just so I say it to someone, high school is even worse than middle school.

My walk home was silent and uneventful. Cars packed with kids from my school did not heed my presence. Wendy hadn't even offered me a ride home because I knew she would be at a club meeting with Mest. Lisanna hadn't even spared me a glance when she got in the car of her elder sister, my old doctor. It disheartened me a little, but as I walked farther and farther away from the Hell I called high school, my mood seemed a little happier than before.

I walked inside my house to find one being inside it. My mom didn't have to work today and seemed to be prepping herself with her reflection in the microwave. My dad was probably coming home from the job he complained about, but I never cared to really listen.

I threw my backpack on the floor and sat at the counter, reaching for the tape. With utter concentration, I tried to amend my ripped book, glancing ever so once and a while in case my mom was curious about my broken school book.

If my parents ask me about it, I probably won't tell them the truth, because I don't want them to worry that I might get bad again. If my aunt Porlyusica was still here, I could talk to her and I know she would understand how I'm both happy and sad. And I'm still trying to figure out how that could be. I just hope I make a friend soon.

Love always,

Natsu

A/N: Next on always seen, never heard:

Natsu's life seems to be going in a downward spiral. Talking to others is not something he can will himself to do and his parents believe his high school life is fine and fun. His father and mother encourage him to go to the first football game of the season to get him out there and to make new friends. As Natsu endures the shouts, whistles, and cheers, he meets Gray face-to-face, being praised for calling Gray by his real name. Natsu's life takes a turn for the better as he meets Gray's beautiful stepsister Lucy. With these crazy seniors there to befriend him, his life will no longer be filed with silence and jeers. He will only be asked one important question.

"Could the bathrooms here be anymore disgusting?"