o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o
It was on a cold, murky day when he catches a group of moronic day class students loitering around the back of the school near the forest…and the classes specifically for the female night class students which held extended home economics. Of what use the 'extended' home economics would be to hundred-year old vampires, he couldn't care less (He doubted whatever they did was even related to the subject).
Not surprisingly, the moronic group consisted of guys (Though, he was pretty sure one of them was actually a girl pretending to be a guy). That didn't matter to him though, since they'd all get the same treatment for breaking the rules (Loitering around, ditching class, smoking, giving him dirty looks), and there would be no one to hold him back this time, as such had been the case for the past hundreds of times he has gone through this routine.
Three bloodied and battered guys(What? They resisted. Or attempted to resist, as much as they could being as stoned as they were) and a crying girl in hysterics (Pleading for mercy while promising to never look at girls that way ever again. Really, he wasn't planning to even touch her. And when did he ever ask for her life story?)later, he tries pushing away the thoughts leading from his repetitive routine to whether he should be glad that there is nothing restraining him or if being this unrestrained has de-evolved him into a delinquent in the form of a prefect.
His heart pounds in his ears.
Beat,
beat,
beat,
beast,
beast,
BEAST.
He's unsure of the look on his face at the time, but it's enough to scare the four idiots into scrambling off down the hall. He considers giving them a few minutes before checking the classrooms to make sure they went to their respective classes, but he decides that he doesn't feel obligated to go through all that trouble and he heads towards the chairman's office.
He hasn't even taken his second step when he gets a thorough whiff of the cigs they were smoking, which didn't seem like any commercial brand he knew (He would only know this because Yagari would sample a lot of brands, much like how a certain someone would sample her stash of Halloween candy…). Looking further, he finds a hefty number of burnt stubs as proof of their constant frequenting of the place (Oh, he would definitely make sure they'd get more than detention for this), and four long sticks on the ground. Three of them looked like they had been put out not long after they were lit, but one of them was still lit.
He remembered one of the guys had had this in his mouth, disregarding his warning when the others had frantically put out theirs and giving him dirty looks while gripping the stick through his teeth. He had made sure to punch a couple of those out for that (And that was probably one less moron to deal with, provided that the guy would be too ashamed to show up to class with his missing pearlies. Or at least he'd never mess with him again, as was the case with the long list of other day class students he has dealt with).
He steadies himself against the wall and leans a bit, breathing the air for a bit. If he was truthful, he was inhaling the smoke without having to actually smoke (He wasn't going to put his mouth on someone else's disgusting cig). He knew he was strong enough to resist a drug as petty as this.
But…in a moment of alleged weakness (He'll never admit it to anyone), he decided that he was tired of running around kicking people's asses back in place and it would be nice to take a break just this once when there's no one around to nag at him or give him headaches (Via Day Class, Night Class, Yagari, the Chairman, not in that order, and not limited to the currently listed). And so, he dozes off…the lit cig glowing a brighter orange with every sudden breeze.
o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o
He dreams of soft hands and soft hair.
Of soft eyes, soft smiles and soft sighs.
But mostly, he dreams of her soft neck and the way she would clutch at him as if she loved him while he drank at her very life.
He dreamt of the warm trickle of her life rushing over his tongue and coating his throat like a savory trickle of ambrosia.
And lastly, he dreamt of her soft mouth as he tore his heart out and pressed it against her lips.
o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o
Kneeling closely to the ground, he takes a sniff and realizes that the amateurishly made cigs were actually rolled up sticks of marijuana (Yagari had been curious one time. In fact, he was pretty sure that Yagari kept a secret stash in the cellar of a certain cabin). He wrinkled his nose in disgust and just as he thinks about putting out the cig and finding a way to have the chairman dole out a bigger punishment for the potheads, his pounding headache begins fading into a steady, rhythmic pulse. He turns back slowly and plops down by the wall again, deciding to have another go.
A/N: Sorry if my grammar sort of jumps everywhere. And I have a bad habit of making gnarly run-on sentences.
