Under this Vest I'm Superman || Larcel
It was time. Actually, it was ten minutes too early, but Marcel wasn't really going to take that into consideration. School started in roughly forty-five minutes, but he always liked to be out of the house and at the bus stop about ten minutes 'til pickup. He straightened his glasses a bit and glanced around him to the crowd of students standing in a huddle a foot or so away. They all seemed so eager to flock together, though he himself was usually left out. It didn't matter to him though-he didn't mind. In fact, he'd really rather be a few feet away from everyone else. It helped him concentrate. It was when they broke that barrier that he started getting uncomfortable. The bus finally came to a sputtering stop by the covered waiting area, and everyone piled on, leaving Marcel with an awkward anxiety of praying that there was an empty seat somewhere that wasn't surrounded by people who would try to snag his backpack and play a game of tossies.
It was really pretty cliche. The cool kids were nestled in the back, footies and the leaders of the cheering squads trying to touch their junk. Then of course it inched up with students in lower cliques until finally, sitting in the front seat alone, was him. Again, it wasn't all that bothersome. He clutched his backpack tightly in his arms and sat quite straight-good posture is the only posture-while he stared out the window. They had a few more stops to make throughout town before arriving at the school, and then the bus ride was over. This anxious sitting next to forty wild animals would be finished for another seven hours. Six of which would be an amazing time in which he would get to do the things he loved-maths, language arts, and sciences-one spent sitting quietly by himself on the lawn with lunch because his life was complicated and he really didn't have anyone to sit with.
Unimportant.
The bus stopped again and he couldn't help but glance up at the new arrivals. This was an unsettling bunch. Most of them were punk-ass druggies from a shadier spot of town, but one was the captain of the high school's footie team and-damn-he made Marcel question a few things about the stirring in his pyjamas in the morning. It wasn't like he followed any sort of logical sexuality, he was far too busy studying for that sort of a distraction, but Louis Tomlinson was positively the most gorgeous human being the nerdy boy had ever laid eyes on. He realized he was staring and quickly flicked his eyes down, his hand lifting to adjust the side of his oversized spectacles. Just because he didn't follow a sexuality didn't mean he was free from teasing. The teen hugged his backpack a little tighter, wondering if Louis had even noticed his slightly gaga'd expression. Or really, the better question had to be, did Louis even really know he existed? Just because the Football team taunted him from the far corners didn't mean their Captain was in on it, right?
You're a dummy, Marcel. He probably initiates it. You just keep your nose in the books, fighter.
