Chapter Text
Drew
Backpack slung over his right shoulder, Drew entered the choir room. The sweet smell of song. Drew loved to sing, it was his favorite pastime, well, besides being homophobic and a huge dick. It was the first day back to school since the incident, and surprisingly, he was glad. After being suspended for a week (the consequence of railing a girl in a public restroom), Drew missed his friends. Well, friend. He had only ever had one friend. Bently. Unfortunately, Bently was always at a lower level class, but they occasionally saw each other in the halls and after school.
There was something about the room that felt… off. The carpet that had all the colors of throwup on it was the same, as well as the dim lights that were as orange as Donald Trump. It didn’t feel like his surroundings were different, so maybe it wasn’t something, but rather someone. He looked over at the choir director, Mrs. Koeser, her stunning beauty, confidence radiating off her, and warm smile was the same, so it wasn’t her. “Drew! It’s… good to have you back. Just so you know, there was a new student who joined the class, and you sit next to him.” Mrs. Koeser said, pointing her delicate finger at his chair, the next one over occupied by who must be the new kid. His handsome face carved like an angel, a perfect crooked smile both inviting and intimidating at the same time set on a pair of full lips, but somehow his face felt… familiar. Sure, he had never seen someone who possessed quite the features before, but it was like they had met before. He slowly chuckled to himself. If he kept having these thoughts of how good it would feel to trace the boy’s perfect upper lip with his finger, someone might suspect he was… gay! What a silly thought, those stupid homos had nothing in common with him. Suddenly, he felt a wave of deja vu wash over him, and Drew wasn’t in the choir room anymore, he was back in his 2nd grade classroom.
“Good Morning class!” The teacher, Mrs. Yogurt, said as she strode into the classroom, decorated with hanging lights and bright colors. There in the reading corner, were his favorite book and pillow almost waiting for him. He looked down at his overalls, Drew’s favorite outfit. He wore a pink shirt and brown jean overalls with golden stars surrounding a picture of a football on the front pocket. His mom had picked it out for him. Just as Drew was getting settled into the desk, a new student walked in. “Class,” Mrs. Yogurt said in a soothing voice, “This is Darian, he will be joining us this year. What’s your favorite thing to do, Darian?” She put her hand on the small of his back comfortingly. Darian’s eye’s shone bright with excitement as he clasped his water bottle tighter to his chest. “My favorite thing to do is play football!” Darian said with a slight lisp. Drew’s head whipped up, the idea grabbing his attention. “I love football too!” Drew said, joy pulsing through him, he could play football with this… what’s his face… Darian kid! Darian’s grin widened. Untightening his water bottle cap to take a swig, and walking up next to Drew, he tripped on a cord. It all seemed to happen in slow motion. Darian put his hand out to catch himself, but in doing so he spilled his drink all over Drew and his favorite overalls. It was red gatorade. It splattered all over his clothes, staining it bright red, the shade you can’t get out of your clothes. Tears pricked Drew’s eyes as he lunged for Darian, but the teacher got between them before Drew could do anything. Darian looked stunned, he wanted to say sorry, but since when do 7 year olds apologise? So instead, Darian snapped, “You know what? I’m glad that pink shirt got ruined, it made you look like a pussy.” And so then Drew started his villain arch, and vowed to hate Darian forever. Luckily, Darian didn’t have to torment Drew for much longer because Darian got expelled two days later for trying to rape a teacher.
“Drew? Drew, are you okay?” He heard a voice, but he couldn’t tell where it was coming from, everything was still black and fuzzy. “W-what?” Suddenly, he remembered everything, and he was back in the choir room, Mrs. Koeser’s gentle hands resting on Drew’s shoulders, a little V between her eyebrows. “Yah, I’m alright, sorry.” Drew mumbled, walking to take a seat, plopping down. Thoughts raced through his mind as he felt Darian’s presents next to him, his warm vanilla citrusy smell wrapping him around him like strong arms. Could this really be happening? Do I still hate him? No. He didn’t, truly. For heaven's sake it was 9 years ago! He was in 11th grade, it’s time to move on.