A/N: I don't get a magical bout of inspiration like this for a non otp, but I went with it because this fic would not leave my brain until I wrote it down. Enjoy!❤️
1.
Every school day during third period, John would cut class to smoke under the bleachers. It was a ritual of sorts, but he hadn't been alone this time. Allison beat him to the shaded spot, seated herself on the soft grass and started drawing a forest on her sketchpad.
He didn't say anything to her, just quietly took puffs of his cigarette. That was the marriage of their sounds: puff, puff, scribble, scribble. For anyone else, it might have been awkward, but it was strangely comforting. When she finished and stood to go back to the building, he complimented her drawing.
"Nice sketch." He sent an approving nod her way as the corner of his lip turned upwards.
It wasn't much, but it had been a positive remark, so she sent him a half smile - not toothy though; if he wanted her to smile like that, he'd have to work for it.
"Thanks." She gave him a little wave and headed to the school.
2.
They were in the same history class, which was nice because she sat in the last row just like he did. Allison had a great knack for spying on people through her hair and since it was black, they wouldn't notice.
John had a lazy demeanor about everything, even in the way he sat in his chair. It was part of the belligerent teenage delinquent image that he enjoyed displaying to everyone. Never lasted though. The bell rang and when everyone around him gathered their books and left, he stayed a moment longer, shoulders shaking.
Something told her that he was afraid to go home, hated the idea of facing his father. They were friends, but she didn't know much about what his home life was like, yet she'd heard tidbits from her parents. Her father was John's father's coworker and he told her mother how his dad was the most antisocial bastard he ever knew and that he must give his family a lot of hell at home.
Allison took her time getting her things together and when she passed John's desk, she stopped, looking down at him. He stiffened and returned her gaze, features hardened and cautious as if he'd been worried that he revealed something important.
"What do you want?" It was a simple, pointed question and it didn't come out angry like she expected it to.
She didn't answer, unsure how to say that she'd like to see a real smile on his face that wasn't a leer at Claire and her friends when they're wearing short skirts - not that those looks meant anything since they'd been broken up for a while now - or a sarcastic smirk at something nerdy Brian said.
Instead of replying, she pulled the drawing he complimented yesterday out of her jacket pocket and set it on his desk.
She didn't know that he watched her leave.
3.
The library was a nice place to get away from crowds. It's almost always empty save for a few students scattered in random places throughout the room. Maybe everyone else preferred to study at home, but she thought a lot of them were just idiots who thought libraries were old fashioned and boring.
Her footsteps were silent as she made her way to the front desk. As always, Muriel, the library lady with cats eye glasses, was there, waiting to assist. The poetry book felt light in Allison's hands, but she kept a good grip on it. Well, she thought she did.
Someone bumped into her and the book fell to the ground. She looked up and what did you know, it was John. His eyes were full of tiredness. "Sorry," he said, bending down to grab the book. She reached for it simultaneously and their fingers met, touching on top of the faded cover.
It was a brief connection and tingles ran through her arm before he moved his hand away. He held out the book and she took it, but neither of them walked away. His glance went down to the hardback.
"Emily Dickinson, huh? Her shit is deep."
That wasn't what Allison had expected him to say, but he didn't have a smirk on his face, so it had to have been the truth. Still, she furrowed her brow at him and slightly cocked her head to the side.
"Really?" There'd been a teeny bit of sarcasm in her voice.
John took that as a challenge and rolled his eyes. "'I died for beauty, but was scarce, adjusted in the tomb. When one who died for truth was lain, in an adjoining room.'"
What a pleasant surprise. She felt her eyes widen a little, intrigued by his words. The glowing look of approval on her face must've weirded him out though, because he shrugged and with a muttered, "See ya around," he was gone.
Well, he just proved that he wasn't an unfeeling asshole like he tried to show - not that she needed proof because she'd known this all along.
4.
Allison browsed through Grant's Art Supplies. The middle-aged man gave her a stern look from behind the counter. He let her shop, but made sure to keep an eye on her. The second chance she'd been given wouldn't be wasted. She couldn't afford to do that.
She hummed to herself and stood in the section of the store that had pencils. Everything else she used to draw was in good quantity, but charcoal pencils. She was down to her last two and she needed more.
The problem was she didn't have enough money to buy the twenty pack of Lankle's charcoal pencils. They were name brand and a lot better than all the cheaper options in the store. She took out her wallet and counted her cash again, sighing.
$8.26 exactly. The pencils she wanted were $35.83 and given her past history with Grant, he wouldn't let her pay for the rest on credit. It was just her luck that the shipments for these particular pencils took three weeks to get to the store.
Of course, the cheaper pencils were in her price range and she could've bought them, but there were only twelve in the pack and she wanted to have extras. The door opened and the bell gave a jangle. She didn't look to see who it was, so she was surprised when the person came to the aisle where she was standing.
It was John, of all people. Her mind flowed with thoughts, wondering why he came. As far as she knew, he had no artistic talent. Then again, he did know Emily Dickinson, so perhaps her assumption was way off base.
"Expensive," he said.
She grinned mirthlessly and put her wallet in her over-sized bag. "Mmhm."
A few seconds passed and she was sure that he was side eyeing her. It didn't bother her though. His presence was nice and she didn't feel like moving right away. He shifted his body to lean towards her.
"Which ones would you get?"
"That one." She pointed to the fancy pack of charcoal pencils. "Lankle's. They're pricey, but they have the best quality."
"So why haven't you bought them?"
"I don't have enough money. I'd have to buy a cheaper one or wait until I have more cash to spend and I'm not buying any of those lame brands, so I'll just wait."
"Fair enough. But you could steal it." John said the last two words in a whisper near Allison's ear.
A tiny smile appeared on her face. "I tried once, but Grant caught me. He's given me one more chance, but if I steal again and get caught, I'll be banned from the store. This is the only place where I can find halfway decent art supplies, so I'm going to follow the rules this time."
"Damn, that means you're just 99% of a klepto." He smirked and she hid her face behind her hair.
"Only in here. Outside, I live dangerously." Her fingers played with the shoulder strap of her bag.
"Good to know." He wasn't smiling, but his voice had a playful tone that she didn't miss.
They stood together, just looking at the array of pencils and pens in front of them. She darted her eyes at him, wondering if he intended to speak again, but he stayed silent, simply staring hard at the pencils, as if he was trying to figure something out.
It wasn't until John said "See you around, basket case," that Allison realized he was leaving. Her eyes met his and she uttered a soft, "See ya," watching him walk out of the store.
+ 1
Once more, he was in detention, for fighting this time. Today, the principal made him sit in the library with nothing to do. He'd hated the essay the Breakfast Club - now disbanded - had given him, thinking it was a smart ass response to his putting them in detention. Not true at all, but he wouldn't believe otherwise, so whatever.
It was only the two of them this time and Allison's heart pounded in her chest when their eyes met. John's face seemed to brighten when he saw her walk in the room and she gave him a little wink.
Mr. Vernon, the man who was supposed to be an adult, griped at them for a while, saying that he hoped they'd enjoy their time in detention - what a prick - and left them by themselves. Once the door to the library closed, Allison picked up her bag and moved to sit in the chair next to John's.
"I've seen you before, you know."
The corners of her lips raised as she remembered the last time he'd said that to her. "Funny how small this town is."
"What'd you do to get sent to detention?"
"Absolutely nothing. I figured you'd want company and I like the library."
"Well, your company is never dull, so thanks. I've spent plenty of time here, myself."
"I know."
He raised an eyebrow. "You follow me around, basket case?"
"Tsk, Allison. Call me Allison, John."
"Alright, Allie. Now, answer the question."
She tried to ignore the delight she felt when he shortened her name. Nobody called her that and the intimacy in the way he said it, teasingly and yet, somewhat gently, made her heart pound. "I don't follow you, as you know. We just seem to keep showing up in the same places."
He waved his hand. "Small town and all that."
"Yeah." She put her feet on the chair and wrapped her arms around them. Her eyes then looked at his bandaged hand. "That looks painful."
"It's no big deal. I've had worse."
"Right." She didn't have to ask what he meant by that. "I'm shocked that you let the nurse take care of it for you."
"Are you kidding? That took ten minutes away from being in class and she gave me a cherry lollipop, so I consider the nurse's office to be heaven."
Allison rolled her eyes. He was forever the smart ass. "You would."
"Thanks for the drawing by the way. I framed it."
"Oh. I figured you would've tucked it away in some magazine."
"Nah. Your stuff is too good for that. It needs to be seen, so I got a frame and hung it on my wall."
The thought of John putting up her picture on the wall of his bedroom made her stomach tighten. It was a silly reason because he hadn't meant it to be romantic. Ever since they started hanging out, he'd compliment her drawings and he'd even allowed her to sketch him a few times.
No one really took an interest in her artwork, save for her teacher, and that was different. John's praise had a deeper impact on her because they were friends, good friends. He understood her better than anyone else, even Brian.
Allison hoped her cheeks weren't blushing as she replied, "That's sweet of you. I'll have to keep giving you more drawings for you to frame."
His snorted. "How about you just stick to a sketchpad and give it to me when you're finished?"
"I'll do that if you really mean it."
"Why not? Pictures are nice to look at and I'm not much for reading anyway."
Now it was her turn to snort. "Sure, that's why you quoted Emily Dickinson to me this week."
"At home, I don't. The library is where I can read in peace."
She didn't miss the undertone of his words. The longer he stayed away from home, the less amount of time he'd have to deal with his abusive father. In that situation, she couldn't blame him for sticking around the library.
"Well, don't worry. Your secret love of poetry will be safe with me." She touched her forefinger and thumb to her lips and pulled them across her mouth in a zipping motion.
"Good to know that you have blackmail you can use on me whenever you want, huh?"
"Mm, a little."
John shook his head. "Women."
"Oh, and men don't use blackmail?" She raised her eyebrow at him, but she wasn't really offended. This was just their style of banter.
"Not about poetry shit. Talk about kicking someone when they're down. Now I'm gonna have to find out something embarrassing about you to hold over your head."
"You already know I'm a compulsive liar and I have kleptomania."
"But that's not good enough. It needs to be more concrete, like you broke into the Playboy mansion and stole Hefner's dirty underwear."
Allison let out a bark of laughter and covered her mouth to stifle her giggles. "What the fuck? That's disgusting."
"I know, that's what makes it so embarrassing." He smirked.
"You need help." She sighed and put her feet on the desk.
"I know. It's a problem." John mocked her and ran a hand through his hair. She noticed that there was a lightning bolt earring in his lobe instead of the stupid diamond earring his redheaded ex had given him weeks ago.
She itched to ask him why it took so long to realize that the princess had been a waste of his time. Anyone could've seen they were a bad match, plus he treated her like shit that Saturday, so dating him as briefly as she had made zero sense.
Even if he hadn't treated Claire poorly, her will wasn't strong enough to handle the pressure from her stuck-up rich friends. Honestly, it was incredible that she hadn't caved sooner, but dating him for two weeks did the job and she dumped him after school let out.
He had to have known that it wouldn't work. That Saturday, it was clear he wanted the princess because she was forbidden fruit. He did his best to cover his attraction to her by bullying and harassing her, but Allison saw through that act.
John may be her friend and she cared about him, but that didn't mean she supported him when he was being an asshole. For Claire's people - regardless of her being attracted to him - he came from the wrong side of the tracks, was considered a deadbeat loser with no exemplary talents and no highly respected family to recommend him.
Not that two people from different worlds couldn't work together as a couple. Opposites attract, true, but if you didn't have determination, you'd yield to the wishes of everyone around you. It was pathetic. The princess would always have to deal with that unless she stood up to her family and her peers and did what she wanted to do.
Allison shook her head, willing all thoughts of Claire out of her head. They'd never gotten to be friends, even after the makeover - that was a stupid mistake because she felt too frilly and dollish after it. Yeah, she didn't wear so many black, baggy clothes anymore, but she still was too weird to be a part of her circle. Not that she gave a fuck. The other girl fulfilled exactly what she said that day and ignored all of them on Monday, save for John, for all the good that did him.
'To thine own self be true' was a quote Allison tried to live her life by. Was it easy? No. But it was far better than trying to fit in some place and sacrifice her personality because of it.
Her mind went to the jock, Andy. Kissing him that day and dating him had been a terrible mistake. They were opposites too, but too opposite for him. She thought they had something in common, since both been neglected by their parents, but that was the extent of the similarities.
He'd never been able to understand her love for drawing, nor her need for quiet sometimes. For him, everything was about sports. He lived it, slept it, ate it and it made him a very boring person to be around.
The worst part of their relationship - if you could even call it that - was how Andy pushed her to get physical with him and when she refused, he'd mutter about how she was weird. No one deserved that level of disrespect. She dated him for a week before calling it quits.
Thankfully, Brian was a healthier choice of company. He didn't have many friends and the ones he did have were geeks like him, so they were already outcasts. They didn't give him any flack for befriending people who everybody else avoided. That was refreshing.
Brian was also so cute that it was impossible to not be friends with him. He reminded Allison of an eager puppy who was friendly and kind to everyone. Even though he was awkward, he had a heart of gold.
Joan tapped the desk to get her attention and she looked at him, watching as he reached into his jacket and took out a small paper bag. He placed it in front of her and said, "Happy birthday, Merry Christmas and happy New Year."
Curiously, she opened the bag and gasped when she realized what was inside of it. A package of the Lankle's charcoal pencils she'd wanted from Grant's Art Supplies were in her hand.
"You bought this for me?" She felt giddy and happy, grateful that she didn't have to wait to buy them.
"You said those were the pencils you'd buy if you had the money, so yeah. You're a great artist and you deserve the best materials available."
Allison held the package to her chest and beamed at him. "You're not so terrible after all."
"Psh, it took you this long to realize that?"
"Shut up." Before she could stop herself, she brushed her lips to his.
It wasn't a long kiss or a passionate one, just a soft meeting of their mouths. She pulled away, embarrassed at the action, but John groaned and tugged her back to him, slipping his tongue out to tease her lips apart. A tiny gasp escaped her throat as she clung to him, feeling heat radiate all over her face.
He massaged her tongue with his, stroking it slowly and expertly. Obviously, he'd had prior experience and Allison was grateful for that. Her fingers ran up to his hair and tugged the black locks as she let him explore her.
After a while, they had to pull away to breathe, and she blinked a few times, reeling from the intensity of that kiss. A tingling down at her center made her aware of how aroused she currently was. It's too bad they were stuck in the school library for the next few hours.
Allison bit her lip and chuckled. "Wow..."
"Yeah." John nodded, in a daze of some sort. His eyes focused on her carefully, as if he were trying to see through to her soul. It was a penetrating expression, one that she'd never gotten from a guy before.
"What are you looking at?"
"A total babe." There was no mistaking the sincerity in his voice.
A rush of warmth ran through her as she looked at him and she raised her hand up to his face. He flinched, but she had her palm up in a non-threatening gesture to assure him. The tension in his shoulders ebbed away almost immediately and he watched her.
Allison framed John's face, shaping it with her fingers and stopping to cup his cheek. Her thumb smoothed slowly circles on the skin and he let out a sigh, relaxing from her touch.
His eyes closed and he leaned in, placing his hand on her knee. It was a tentative movement and she felt comfortable with the connection. Sitting with him like this filled her with a feeling of joy.
From his reaction, she knew it had been a long time since anyone touched him without malice. She hadn't been hugged or shown other physical affection by her parents in years, so she was familiar with the sensation.
Being with him made a difference though. Allison wasn't a very tactile person - the only touching she'd done was the little half hugs or low fives she gave Brian when they left school for home - but she thought that she could start, for John.
It'd be worth it.