Alfred groaned, clutching his shoulder. The training session with the football team was really rough today... It was all he wanted to get straight back to the dorm block before he strained his muscles further.
Looking around, Alfred was slightly confused at the amount of people in the corridors. Classes had finished fifteen minutes ago, why was everyone sticking around?
"Oi, mon ami, Alfred!" came a call. Alfred turned his head to see Francis Bonnefoy, his 'friend' of sorts whom he preferred to call an acquaintance. Since the gorgeous blonde figure was usually surrounded by girls, Alfred became slightly more confused when Francis was completely alone, despite the unusual amount of students still in the corridors.
"'Ave you seen ze new guy? Ugh, ze nerve of 'im! 'E's stealing all of my fans!"
Ah. That explained it.
Alfred snickered. "Fans?"
Francis narrowed his eyes slightly. "Oui, ze girls that adore moi. If you weren't such a gay boy you'd 'ave some too.~"
Alfred's eyebrow twitched in annoyance, and he glared heatedly at Francis. "GAY?"
The blonde boy chuckled. "Friendly teasing, mon ami."
"Hmph."
Francis looked around for a moment before continuing. "Anyway, I 'ear 'e's dangerous. Be careful of 'im, oui?"
"Yeah, yeah. What class is he in?"
Francis sighed. "B."
"Oh…then he's with me." Alfred felt slightly curious at the thought.
Francis looked at him before walking away. "Be careful, mon ami."
Alfred laughed. "Yeah, yeah." How dangerous could another guy be? Pfft.
Suddenly the corridors erupted into loud squealing and mutterings. Alfred turned his head in slight annoyance to shock as his eyes fell on the figure making his way down the hall.
Punk. That was the only word that could ever do him justice. The sheer look of him could reduce any mother to tears.
His hair, of which his natural colour was difficult to tell, was dyed in streaks of emerald green, red, blue and white, flecks of blonde dotted about. It was gelled into a messy yet somehow perfect style, a few rogue strands of hair fluttering in front of his face and framing eyes of blazing acid green. His thick eyebrows were studded with piercings, as did his lip, nose, and the glint in his mouth suggested his tongue as well.
His clothes, too. Whatever happened to a school uniform? He was dressed in a thick denim jacket covered in various pins and badges, extremely slim jeans that showed off his physique, a torn shirt with the Union Jack adorning it, and heavy, clunky boots that thumped against the ground with every step.
That… that must be the new kid, huh.
"Excuse me. Can I have a word?" came an angry call from the end of the corridor. The punk turned to see the vice principal, Mr Edelstein, walking with a calm guise towards him with narrowed eyes.
"Your appearance is strictly against our school guidelines," he stated, glaring with distaste.
The punk smirked and shrugged his shoulders. "Shame, that."
Mr Edelstein growled softly. "Dye those ridiculous colours out of your hair by tomorrow!"
Taking out a packet of chewing gum from his pocket, the punk ignored him further, unwrapping one. "Can't."
His attempts to wind up the vice principal seemed to be working, as Mr Edelstein let out an angry yell of impatience and snatched the packet of gum away. The punk raised his hands in mock defeat and laughed.
"Could've just asked if you wanted one." The girls and several boys who had gathered around began laughing at the scene.
Mr Edelstein managed to maintain his calm composure again and breathed out. "Detention."
The punk merely laughed again, and walked off. "Lonely, mate? Won't come to it."
Alfred watched with wide eyes. Nobody had been able to backchat Mr Edelstein before!
When the gathered crowd began to disperse as Mr Edelstein left, Alfred still stood there in half-frozen shock. The punk grinned and walked over, shoving a timetable into his face.
"Oi, where's that?" he asked, pointing to a room number.
Alfred's speech was muffled from the sudden sheet of paper blocking his mouth as he tried to struggle away. The punk noticed, and pulled it back slightly, laughing.
"Pleh…" murmured Alfred. His eyes focused better on the sheet of paper as his gaze fell upon the number.
275.
His dorm room.
"Uh, sure, that's my dorm. Why?"
The punk screwed up his face in repugnance. "Oh great, I'm sharing with the fucking gay kid," he snorted. Alfred snarled, retaliating instantly.
"WHAT?"
"Oh, everyone's been saying it. Especially Gilbert. He wont shut up about how flaming you are."
Alfred's blood boiled. "I'M. NOT. GAY."
The punk snickered. "Sure. Now, since I'm sharing with ya, can you show me where my dorm is?"
"Our dorm…" muttered Alfred, lacing his tone with hatred as he walked out of the block, the punk trailing after him. Turning to face him for a moment, his eyes widened again as he saw him lighting a cigarette.
"Hey!" he yelled.
The punk took a long drag and breathed it out, taking care to choke Alfred on it. When the smoke cleared and Alfred had stopped coughing, he smirked.
"Yeah?"
Alfred snarled. "Dammit! Nevermind, come on!" he hissed, walking faster than normal up the stairs to his dorm. He pulled open the door and made his way to his bed, falling down against it, glaring up at the figure he'd have to share a room with.
"Hmph. Small."
Alfred glared. "It's a dorm, not an apartment."
The punk kicked off his heavy boots and relaxed on his own bed, scowling as the cigarette ran short. He tossed it onto the floor and stamped it out, wincing slightly in pain and chuckling.
"Should'a left my boots on for that…"
Alfred snickered. "Glad it hurt."
"Fuck you."
There was a slight pause until Alfred decided to talk to the punk again.
"So, you got a name?" he asked.
"Mmhm. Arthur Kirkland," he announced with a smirk.
There was another pause.
"…Never heard of me?"
Alfred looked genuinely confused. "Nope."
"Ha. You need to go to more clubs, gay boy," said Arthur.
"STOP CALLING ME GAY!" yelled Alfred, clenching his fists.
"Whoa, whoa. Calm down," laughed Arthur. He lay a large guitar bag against the wall carefully, and glared at Alfred through narrowed eyes.
"Touch my guitar and die," he warned, flopping back down onto his bed. "And wake me at six tonight."
Alfred glared. "I'm not your slave, wake yourself up."
"Hmph. Fine, git," Arthur retorted, taking out his phone and setting an alarm, tucking it under his pillow.
He must have fallen asleep rather quickly, because he hadn't moved an inch when Alfred glared at him moments after and muttered some profanity under his breath. Alfred told himself firmly that he was staring at the punk because he hated him, not because he was so god damn attractive…
