Work Text:
James Jimmy Hopkins
An interesting boy, you comment, looking at the name splayed across your journal.
You found it strange that people tended to avoid the boy, considering the fact that he was helping others complete their errands half the time. You’d see him around campus, occasionally causing a ruckus and being chased around after trying to help some poor sod getting his lunch money taken.
By all means, he came off as a neutral, if not kind, spirit. Perhaps it was his appearance that made others label him off as a delinquent. Personally, you were quite a fan of the earring and buzz cut look. Especially with the way it clashed with those freckles that made him look even younger than his height did.
What an anomaly, you thought.
You, on the other hand, had not been in the spotlight even half as much as James. You were somewhat of an invisible person at this school, and although it might seem sad, you were just glad you could sneak off campus without teachers noticing you. God knows you’re not eating that lunch, you knew what Ms. Bernie did in that kitchen.
Not only does that quirk of yours assist you in avoiding authority figures but also the actual bullies that infest the school. You’d been confused about why the teachers never caught them in their acts but eventually you learned to ignore it. It is what it is.
On this Autumn day, you sat on the stairs of the school, in plain sight yet so inconspicuous that people would walk right past you. It was a few minutes before lunch and you excused yourself to the library from class, skipping since you’d finished your work already.
With your head bowed, you continue scribbling in that journal, a few pieces of your hair drifting in your peripherals. You’re so drawn into your writing that you almost don’t notice the pattering of feet getting closer to you. Brown shoes slap the pavement of the stairs, skipping 2, then another 2.
A harsh wind blows across the school campus, flipping countless papers of your journal and blowing some hair into your eyes, prompting you to close them and attempt to organize your journal without it flying away.
When you open your eyes again, your journal isn’t in your lap. You’re quick to look around but a simple glance upwards has you blinking hard. Brown eyes on you, a freckled face.
“W-what- ,” is he looking at you for? James Jimmy Hopkins doesn’t know you.
“Here.” Your eyes are drawn away from his face to the journal that’s been shoved in front of you, his name plastered on the most recent page. You cringe at the sight, gingerly taking it from his grasp with a tiny ‘thanks’.
You have no reason to believe he didn’t read that. So, instead of looking back at him like you usually would if you had the chance, you tuck your journal into your backpack and stand up. You nearly lose your balance, like you haven’t been embarrassed enough. A steady, firm hand on your shoulder grounds you and you’re once again reminded of just how helpful this boy really is.
You open your mouth to thank him again but before you can, he’s asking you a question, the hand on your shoulder remaining there like a weight.
“Why are you writing about me?”
You jerk your eyes up to his face, he’s raising an eyebrow, his tone speaking of genuine curiosity. You hope he isn’t weirded out. And then he squints slightly, the corner of his mouth tugging up to form a smirk on his face. You gulp.
“Got a crush?”
You don’t know how wide your eyes get but he reacts with a laugh that shows pearly teeth and you feel unbearable heat rise up your face.
“No…It’s just, it’s nothing really,” you don’t even know how to explain that you just found him pretty cool so you just dismiss the whole thing in hopes that he’ll let it go too.
“Alright, alright, I’m just messin’ with you. Smell ya later, Yin.”
Then he’s walking off towards the building behind you, leaving you on the stairs alone. You stand there for a minute longer, processing, then make your way to the nearest cafe to get a decent lunch, mind replaying the event over and over.
How does he know your name?