Disclaimer: I do not own Human Target or their characters. That's Fox and DC's area. I do however own any added character or fictional places that appear. And unless I give consent they are not open to anyone. Please be respectful of that.
Note: Before I begin let me explain that YES I am very very aware how cheesy it is to do one of these and how obnoxious it is. And you should all know that when people do these, it's all about how they observe the character and what setting THEY see them fitting in with. I will be doing the same thing. What clique and how the work in the school system is how I will be writing this. Will it be cheesy? Probably. Do I care? No. Why am I doing this? Because it looked like fun and I'm bored lol.
We Are Not Alone
Chapter 1: Wake Up
"If you don't get your lazy ass out of bed right now I will throw you out of your damn bed into the yard and send you to school in your damn pajamas! Get. Up!" A head of wild – long – mousy brown hair poked out from under a pile of clothes hazardously piled on top of an unkempt bed in an unkempt room could be seen as a body slowly – sluggishly – pulled itself out from under the covers and pushed the covers and dirty clothes aside.
Brushing long bangs out of sight, very blue eyes glared at the bedroom door before reaching to grab a pair of glasses off the bed stand and rising to their feet, drabbed only in flannel jeans and making their way to the bathroom to – sort of – spiffy themselves up. Washing their face, running a comb through their hair once before saying fuck it and putting on a snow cap, brushing their teeth, and flossing before stomping out their room and picking up clothes, sniffing them until a clean shirt and jeans are found. Sliding on sneakers and their leather jacket as cigarettes were pocketed, a head tilted up to look at the door as a timid knock was heard.
"We're gonna be late!" a voice called from the other side. He grunted and grabbed his backpack and threw it over his shoulder before grabbing his zippo and stomping out his door. He was not a morning person and right now all he wanted to do was get the day over with so the weekend could begin. He fuckin hated the first week of school.
He ignored the squeak of surprise at his rough exit of his room, slamming the door because he wasn't suppose to, and making his way down the stairs. He could hear small feet stumbling to keep up after him as he grabbed a poptart and muffin, patting his passed out mother on the back and ignoring the stink eye his father was giving him as he bit into an apple and grabbed a soda out of the fridge to drink on the way to school and to wake him up. As he made out the door, his father yelled something or other to him, which he ignored, as a timid voice said goodbye before running out the door and catching up to him. He glanced out the corner of his eyes at her. "Didn't need you to walk me to school, dude," he grumbled, chewing on his apple as he gave her a piece of his muffin. She took it with a thankful smile before quietly eating. As soon as she swallowed, she smiled. "Of course I did. You'd still be in bed if I didn't come get you every day, right?"
He scoffed but didn't agree or disagree. He wasn't one for overly sentimental moments. He finished his apple and tossed it into someone's yard, ignoring the man as he yelled and called him names. He was focused on the way she was walking. She had a limp and was wearing a black sweater, her hair in her face. His jaw squared and he looked ahead.
He felt her glance at him and she sighed. "It doesn't hurt," she whispered and he grit his teeth. "Whatever you say, dude," he growled. He wasn't in the mood to have this discussion with her and looking at his cellphone – whi9ch he found in the pocket of his jacket – he realized they weren't as late as he thought. They had a few minutes to spare and he could see Wein High School – home of the Assassins – just around the next turn across the street.
As they crossed the street and made their way across the football field, some people stopped and waved. "Layla!" someone called. She – Layla – waved back and gave a shy smile before looking back at him as she was motioned over. He kept walking, shrugging her off. She took that as an okay to go and ran – more like hobbled – over to her friends while he climbed up the bleachers and sat. He had time to puff half a cigarette.
Pulling out a cigarette, he placed it between his lips and grabbed for his lighter and flicked the flames to life, burning the tip and letting the sweet – if not bitter – nicotine wash into his taste-buds. He took a long drag before spewing out a stream of smoke, the wind blowing it this way and that as he let the cigarette hang between his lips.
"Those thing'll kill you, man. I keep telling you that," mid puff and grunt, a glance to his left revealed a handsome youth with a large smile in a letterman's jacket of black and red and the number 13 in white on the chest. His blonde hair and blue eyes made him a heartthrob to girls and the picture perfect poster boy for the school and the papers. "Shouldn't you be practicing, Junior. Gonna get out of shape," he grumbled as he flicked ashes off his cigarette while blondie – Junior – came to sit by him.
A few people stared as they walked by at the odd duo but no one – wisely – said a thing. Least not to their faces. Everyone was well aware that Junior was known for making friends with anyone no matter where they fell on the school's social ladder. And everyone knew he went wherever he pleased and could fit in just fine because no one was willing to say otherwise against him being there.
Junior gave a boyish smile and shrug. "Just one day won't throw me off too bad, man," he stated simply earning a grunt and "hurmph" of sorts. The two sat quietly as Junior waved and nodded to a few people while he finished his cigarette and the school bell rang. Jumping to his feet, Junior helped him up and the two made down the stairs and up the hill to school.
R & R Plz
Weeeellll? Horrible, right? Yep. It's gonna get worssee! LOL!