#>>high school sweethearts: lsk

[viperrot]

⇁high school sweethearts | leon kennedy | pt. 1

resident evil 4 remake leon s. kennedy x fem!band-student!reader high school au

there's a new guy in town, and he's pretty damn cute. too bad he hates your brother, though.

content contains: mild angst, enemies to lovers, tbh? mean leon, cliches, minor religious/christian themes, story is told in first person, reader is a bit shy and is an oboe and trumpet player!, leon and reader are in their juniour year, fictional town set around 1980!

3037 words

song rec: "kutsuro gish" by hiroshi takaki

pt. 2

what's this? the blossoming of a series? yes, yes it is! very self-indulgent. i love tropes like this so much. enjoy some mean leon content and a sweet enemies-to-lovers concept, little dove :]

Life in Everglade is... interesting, to say the least. Actually, it was extremely cliché here. Every Sunday and Wednesday, people would go to church, every Friday night was a football game, and the rest of the days were just busy nonsense. The people here rarely ever leave town, and people never really come in. It's been like this for years.

Until recently.

This fall, a handful of strangers tumbled into the little town of Everglade, proud home of the Everglade Ravens. Lucky for me, they even moved in across the street.

From my little window nook, I watch a dingy U-Haul pull up into the driveway across the street, and out comes four people. The first is a man that looks to be in his mid forties, dressed in khakis and a navy polo. Next is a little girl, who looks like a middle schooler. She's got a long skirt on and a flannel sweater, coloured with warm red and browns. After her is what I assume is an elder sister, but she doesn't look much older than the little one.. She's dressed in messy, paint-stained jeans, a black tank-top, and a pink windbreaker jacket to top it all off. She's the only brunette one out of the blonde family so far.

Then comes out the son.

Dragging himself out of the passenger seat was the most dashing boy I've ever seen. The smile he gives his sisters make my heart race—it honestly put Danny Zuko's smile to shame, and I love Grease! His blonde hair is parted to the side, hiding his eyes a bit. He's dressed up in blue jeans that grip around his thighs perfectly, a black t-shirt, and a navy-blue bomber jacket that had the sleeves rolled up to show off his forearms. From my spot at the window, I couldn't help but ogle. The mystery family all gathered around the front door of their new home to get a good look of the inside, and I couldn't help but keep my attention on the only son of the family. I noticed how their was no mother to be seen...

"Hey, thumper," a voice calls out from the door of my room. I tear my eyes away from the window to see my father, leaning against the frame of my door with his arms crossed. "He's been calling me thumper ever since I was little, seeing as how I stomp my foot when I laugh.

"Hey, pops! What's up?" I cock my head to the side questioningly.

"Mom's done with dinner. Meet ya downstairs, or are you gunna keep 'practicin''?" He smirks teasingly, looking at my unused oboe on the foot of my bed. I blush, rolling my eyes.

"I'll be down there... and I was practicing, thank you very much!" I huff. Dad just laughs at me and waves his hand, mumbling about how he'll see me at the dinner table. With that, I get up to collect myself. I take a quick look out the window one more time just to see if the boy next door was still outside, but the front door was shut tight.

I stumble down the stairs, my bunny slippers skidding down the steps as the smell of baked chicken filled my nostrils. Upon entering the dining room, I see my dad at the head of the table accompanied by my mom and my older brother, Damien, who sighs at the sight of me.

"Finally, you're here," Damien huffs. "Can you sit down now? I'm fuckin' hungry," he stretches his hand out to me so I can sit down and say grace with everyone. My dad throws a pen from his breast-pocket at my dumb brother, telling him to watch his language.

I sit at the other end across from Damien to avoid saying grace with him, holding hands instead with Mom and Dad with my head bowed down.

"Ahem... Bless us, O Lord, and these Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy bounty, through Christ our Lord. Amen," my mother says. Immediately after the prayer, Damien scarfs down the first piece of chicken he can get his hands on. I pick at some au gratin while my parents converse and scold Dami for being such a disgusting eater. I clear my throat to catch my parents' attention when they grow silent.

"So... uhm... There's new people across the street. Do you maybe... know about them?" I ask, giving my parents side glances. Mom shakes her head as a no, and before Dad can say anything, Damien coughs up a response.

"That punk Leon's the ace player from Greensmell's soccer team!" My older brother snorts, seemingly a bit angry.

So his name's Leon...

What Damien meant to say was Greenvale, which is a town over. They're probably Everglade High School's biggest rival in ever aspect—academics, sports, and even parties (apparently, I wouldn't know). The only thing I can confidently say they're bad at is marching. Their band is horrendous.

"Seriously?" I cringe at the information. "What are they doing here...?" I wonder under my breath.

"Probably got so embarrassed we beat 'em at state champ this year, the wimp probably got kicked out and thrown into Everglade!" Damien shouts with a mouthful of rice. I cringe at the sight, looking back down at my untouched au gratin.

"Cool, cool..." I mumble. "Uh... can I be excused? M'not really hungry," I ask Dad. He nods, going back to his food. Wordlessly, I take my plate to the kitchen to clean it up. As I wash dishes, I stare out the window blankly, eyes set on the house across the street. No one was out still.

I decide it's best to just go to bed after washing dishes, putting my oboe back in its case and setting it next to my backpack. I flop into my bed, part of me hoping to see this Leon guy again soon...

I hate gossip.

I can never tell if people are talking about me, the people around me, or to me. As I walk the halls of Everglade High School, oboe and trumpet cases held tight in my hands, I hear the little murmurs of the cliques of the school. Punks mumbling, girl's that try too hard to look like Sandra Dee whispering behind their palms, and some jocks laughing loudly about Leon.

Wait, Leon?

My converse-clad feet are walking through the hall faster now. As I bump past a bunch of students, I speed my way down to the lunch room, needing to see my friends as soon as possible. Luckily, one of them sticks out like a sore thumb today. Sporting a red blazer, blue flannel tennis skirt, and black socks, I see Samantha Grey in all her glory sitting on top of our usual table, talking to a few of our little group. I stomp up to her, the charms on my instrument cases clinking softly with each step.

"Sammy!" I whisper-yell. Her brown eyes immediately look over to my position in front of her, her black hair swaying.

"Hey, sweet pea~!" She coos happily, a big smile painting her face as she gets down from the tabletop to give me a hug. "Glad you aren't too late. Me 'n' the girls were just talkin' about the new hunk in town," she pinches my cheek before helping me set my cases down on the table. I sit next to her, getting settled.

"Hunk? What's this about?" I stare, acting like I didn't know who they were chittering about. Across from Sammy and me is Lucy Brail and Patti James, who I've known since diapers along with Samantha. Lucy is the first to speak up, clearly excited to talk about Leon.

"This stud just moved into town yesterday! Apparently, he's got two little sisters at the middle school, 'n all the boys here have been howlin' about how he probably got kicked outta the Greenvale soccer team after losing nationals this year!" She says with a grin that reaches her ears. My eyebrows knit together at the information that I had heard the night before.

"You call almost every meathead here a stud, Lucy," I chuckle. She gives me a weird look before scoffing.

"This one's different, sweet pea," Sammy jabs me in the side softly, and I yelp. "He's got this look in his eyes that just scream at me like he wants me!" She sighs dreamily.

"Are you sure it wasn't his pecs you were lookin' at?" I click my tongue. Another jab to the side, and it hurts a little more than the last. I roll my eyes.

"Whatever, I'm sure he's just like the oth-"

"Oh! Oh!! There he is, sweet pea, look!" Sammy grabs me by the jaw to turn my sights to the new guy.

There he is...

Across the lunch hall is Leon, dressed all pretty in a forest green letterman jacket with his initials on the right bicep. There's a few patches from some bands he likes and a big ole "11" on the back of it with "Greenvale" above it. He's still in tight jeans, but they're black this time, as well as his t-shirt beneath the well-worn coat.

"He's got some nerve wearin' that here," Patti mutters. We all hum in agreement as we watch him saunter over to the lunch line to get a carton of strawberry milk.

"Ain't he just a dream~?" Sammy breathes out. Lucy's got this blush that could be seen from Mars, and I swear that Patti's mouth is gunna get dry with how much she's drooling. My gaze is trained on the back of Leon's head, looking at how well-trimmed his hair is.

"He's... he is pretty cute," I mumble, jaw hurting a bit with how tight my best friend was gripping onto it. I hear her giggle.

"Don't get sweet on him now, thumper!" She reminds me, using that silly nickname. “God knows your brother would tear you a new one if he found out you wanted to get a piece of Leon Scott Kennedy," she lets go of my jaw, and I roll my eyes.

"M'not sweet on anyone, Sam," I grumble. Lucy giggles, twirling a strand of her blonde curls in her fingers.

"Isn't he right next to your house, (y/n)?" She asks me. I nod.

"Yeah, actually... How did you know?"

"Oh, sweet pea?! Please, please, please tell me you gotta good view of him from your room! If so, I'm comin' over every weekend!!!" Samantha begs, shaking me by the shoulder.

"H-hey, quit it! I dunno if he's gunna be upstairs or not, and that's c-creepy!" I gasp as she shook me. Lucy and Patti laugh as I get thrashed around. From the corner of my eye, I see Leon get closer. He's got a mean look in his eyes, like he's ready to bite someone if they get near him.

I guess he's trying to protect his peace...

The girls grow silent as he walks past our table, not showing any mind to how noisy we are. They all watch Leon like dogs to a bone when he scoots past us, tossing his milk carton in the air like he hasn't a single worry in the world. When he's gone, it's like we can all breathe again.

"Oh lord, he even smells good," Patti fans herself, a blush covering up her little freckles. Sammy grins in agreement, clearly happy that she got to see the new guy so close. I stick my tongue out in disgust.

“You guys are so gross…”

“Everyone, please welcome our new student,” Mrs. Bradshaw, the advanced chemistry teacher here at Everglade High, drones, motioning her hand to Leon near the back of the class.

And also next to me.

The blonde boy stands up, puffing up his chest a little.

“Name’s Leon Kennedy. Nice to meet you,” he says curtly before sitting right back down. Everyone’s giving him looks ranging from “I wanna rip his throat out” to “I want to kiss him behind the bleachers”, and it’s clear that he doesn’t care about it either. Mrs. Bradshaw clears her throat to stop annoying students from whispering.

“Now, let’s get started on our calorimetry unit. To begin…” The old hag’s words begin to go process in my brain as I get to writing notes. At times, I look at Leon from the corner of my eyes.

He’s writing on a piece of paper instead of a notebook, his blue ballpoint pen scraping against the surface as he messily jots down his notes. I’m pleasantly surprised to see that he actually cares about his education! I can see Leon’s tongue poking out between his plump lips, and I can’t help but stare a little. He doesn’t seem to notice me, until he looks up to check the blackboard up front.

Leon’s blue eyes set their sights on me, locking with mine. Quickly, I avert my gaze back to my notebook, trying my best to act like I was still writing notes. I hear him laugh a little next to me, but I make no effort to speak up.

When the class ends, and the bell for the next period rings, I gather my things to head off to the band room. Backpack slugged over my shoulders, I’m getting ready to pick up my trumpet and oboe case before someone else grabs of for me. Big, veiny hands take the cases by the leather handle, lifting it before my eyes. I look up to see Leon with a devilish smile.

“Caught you staring at me. Mind if I walk with you?” He says confidently. I’m a bit taken aback by his attitude, but I nod nonetheless. I’ve never really had a boy offer to walk me to class other than Damien…

“I can hold my-“

“Nah, don’t worry bout it. I carry my sister’s euphonium all the time,” he chuckles, his shoulders shaking a little as he does. I blush, not expecting him to even know what a euphonium is. So, he’s cute AND he knows the difference between a tuba and a euphonium..

“Are you sure? I-I mean, I don’t want it to be a hass-“

“Don’t worrrrryy,” he exaggerates. “Where are you headed? This is my study hall period, so I got time,” he grins.

“Uh… the band room. A-and thanks,” I tell him, nervously fiddling with my fingers. We walk out of the science lab together, me trailing slightly behind him as we walk.

“So, I’m guessing you and your little posse this morning was talking about me?” He asks, and I feel the blood rush up to my face.

Samantha and her big ole mouth…!

“Y-yeah…” I stammer, unsure of what to say. “Sorry about that… It’s just… we never really have any newcomers here, so the girls were just excited,” I bite my lip. I can feel the stares of people around us in the halls. Whether it’s out of jealousy towards me or hate for him, I’ve no clue.

“I see,” Leon hums. “It was kinda funny, so don’t apologize.” He says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. His fingers are gripping the handle of my cases tight enough to make his veins bulge a little, and I can’t help but stare. After our small talk, it’s quiet, and when we make it to the band room, we stop next to the door so he can give me back my things. As Leon hands over my instruments, footsteps thunder toward our position.

“You know, I thought it was just some sick joke hearing about my lil sister hangin’ around you, but I see that the rumours are true,” Damien growls, walking towards Leon and me slowly with his hands in the pockets of his black letterman. The blonde boy in front of me is still holding my oboe case as he looks at my older brother with an unamused stare.

“Well, had I known she was related to you, I would have never offered to carry her junk,” the ace smiled. I felt my heart drop at his words.

And then it felt like the world came crashing down on me.

Like it was fire, Leon let go of my oboe case, and it clatters against the floor. He’s staring my brother dead in the eyes as he does so, and I can feel tears swell in my eyes. I watch as my reeds, feather, and parts of the oboe pop out of the hard case, scraping against the floors of the hall.

“N-no!!” I yelp, unable to hold back my tears as I drop to my knees to gather the parts. A key or two had bent, and a few corks were damaged. I hear Damien shout at Leon, slamming his body into a locker. I don’t understand what they’re yelling about, too busy trying to pick up the bits of my instrument. More voices erupt, and I assume they’re people trying to pull my brother off of Leon Kenne-dick. My feather gets swept away amidst the commotion. When everything but that is successfully stuffed back into my case, I snap my head around to glare at the ace soccer player behind glossy eyes.

“You’re fuckin’ paying for this, you piece of shit!” Damien screams, thrashing against some teachers who dragged him away from the scene. Leon’s being escorted away as well, not giving me a chance to say anything. I’m left alone in the hall with my broken oboe before Samantha scurries out.

“Sweet pea! We heard all the ruckus, but Mr. Kay said it wasn’t safe for us to be out, and—oh, sugar…” she gasps lightly, crouching down next to me. The ravenette looks down at my open case, seeing the broken and bent keys and chipped corks. “Who did this…?” She asked me gently, setting her chin on my shoulder.

“Leon…” I hiccup, tears falling. The silence is heavy when I tell her this, and I know that Sammy can only see red. Without a word, she wipes my tears with her thumb before helping me into the band room.

I’m starting to regret wanting to see him again.

woohoo! chapitre un, fini :] i know it’s a bit lacking, but it’s just the beginning. hope you enjoyed! pt. 2 here!

[viperrot]

⇁high school sweethearts | leon kennedy | pt. 5

resident evil 4 remake leon s. kennedy x fem!band-student!reader high school au

the kennedy girls are much sweeter than their older brother, who seems to have completely forgotten the midnight serenade he gave you the night before.

pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4

content contains: mild angst, is this even enemies to lovers? i dont know anymore., mean? leon, cliches, story is told in first person, reader is a bit shy and is an oboe and trumpet player!, leon and reader are in their juniour year, fictional town set around 1980!

not proofread i am sleepy

2689 words

song rec: "sketching on the boat" from when marnie was there

The school day was horrifically long, so much so that I found myself dozing off in my English class. The lectures given by the stocky old teachers made my head hurt as the events of last night replayed over and over in my mind, the image of Leon's crooked smile forever etched in my memory.

Despite what he did to me, I couldn't find the want to be angry at him in that moment.

The dreaded hour of chemistry rolled around, and I found myself sitting awkwardly in my not-assigned-assigned seat. Leon's presence to my right made the hairs on the back of neck raise. My fingers grip the wooden pencil tight, anxiously scribbling down notes about calorimetry in my composition book. As Mrs. Bradshaw droned on about our lab for next class and being safe, I took a peek to my right, stealing a glance at the blonde boy next to me.

His head is tilted down as he jots down notes, and I smile to myself when I remember how disgusting his handwriting was last night. His eyebrows knitted together as he quickly wrote, his ballpoint pen dragging against the college-ruled paper. Leon's hair jostled slightly as his wrist flicked quickly, and I grew to admire his attention to the lecture, but the thought leaves my mind quickly when I remember what had happened between us.

The memory of my oboe slamming into the ground made my gut turn, and I recall the smug smile Leon had when he saw the look of despair on my face.

How could he be so sweet to me despite all that happened?

I don't realize how intently I stared at him until his eyes lock onto my own, and I immediately feel my throat go dry. If my stomach wasn't hurting ten minutes ago, it's definitely hurting now. The pen in Leon's fingers spun between each digits, hypnotically looping. We exchange awkward looks, and his lips twitch and pucker slightly, as if searching for words to say to me, but he couldn't whisper anything due to Mrs. Bradshaw calling for him.

"Mr. Kennedy, you have time to ogle girls after class," she scowls from the front of the room, the think chalk in her hands still on the blackboard. The ace's attention snaps to the teacher, his mouth slightly agape as his eyes dart around in search of an excuse.

"Can't help it, ma'am," Leon says coolly, leaning back into his desk chair with a soft smirk.

"Right... Please don't let me catch you staring at Mrs. (L/n) again, Mr. Kennedy," the woman sighs, resuming her lesson. Leon throws another look my way, and I notice how his leg shakes as he continues to play with the pen in his hand. I flash him an awkward grin before turning my attention back to the notebook on my desk, wanting to focus on my notes again. The last stretch of class begins, and I find myself sneaking glances at Leon more than once.

I don't notice him returning the favour.

"Leon!" I grab the sleeve of his Carhartt jacket as we walk out of the lab, the thick fabric between my fingers as I pull him to the side. He shoots me a glare, eyebrows furrowed as he stares at me with his nose slightly turned up.

"Do you need something?" He sneers at me, eyes piercing and harsh. I swallow dryly as I recognize the hostility in his body language.

"Can we like... talk?" I press, my lips forming a tight frown.

"About what? Your stupid clarinet?" The blonde's eyebrow raises, and I cringe slightly at the sound of him calling my oboe a clarinet.

"Last night... Y'know, how you played the-"

"I have no clue what you're talking about," Leon's nose crinkles as he tugs his wrist out of my grip. I look at him confused, not understanding how he could forget such a moment between us.

"Wh- how could you forget? Remember how we-" Immediately, he grabs the strap of my bookbag and drags me to a less crowded part of the hallway, gently pushing me into a locker with his hands resting atop my shoulders.

"Listen, princess," he sighs. "I can't let people knowing I'm into shit like that, okay? I already get enough talk in this hellhole as it is," he explains to me, and I feel some form of guilt tug at my heart. Even then, I grew even more confused.

"I... but why?" I frown at the boy, feeling tense beneath his grip.

"Whaddya mean 'why'? I just... don't wanna come off as a nerd," Leon chuckles humorlessly. The look on my face deepens.

"Leon," I pull his hands away from my shoulders, holding his left with a gentle squeeze. "Music isn't something you should just... turn away from. Why not share it with your friends?" I see Leon scowl slightly as he tugs his hand out of my grip.

"It isn't that simple..." he sighs, shaking his head softly. Blonde hairs dance around his face, concealing his icy blue eyes from my gaze.

"But-"

"See you around, princess," Leon turns on his heel, readjusting his backpack as he walks away from me as if nothing happened. I feel a headache begin as I scold myself for not stopping him, for not forcing him to talk to me or even pay for the damage he did to my poor oboe. I huff, disappointed in myself as I begin to walk to the band room.

The journey isn't long, and I find myself slumped in my chair towards the back of the room as I set up my trumpet. As I checked the valves of the brass item, the mouthpiece was wedged underneath my thigh to get it warm--a habit I've had since sixth grade. The instrument was greased and oiled to my liking, the valves and slides moving without any problems.

I inserted the mouthpiece before playing a simple chorale, adjusting my lips against the instrument as I tune myself.

"Sweet pea," I hear someone call from my left, knowing immediately that it was just Samantha. I pull my trumpet away from my face, turning my body in the plastic chair to look over at my best friend.

"What's up?" I cock my head to the side, curious as to what she has to say. She's got this funny look on her face as she crouches down to my level.

"Someone told me that you're gunna be tutoring the Kennedy girls... Is it true?" The flutist whispers to me softly. I'm taken aback at this, my brows knitting together.

"Who told you that...?" I give her a concerned expression. She giggles softly.

"Sunday, after church, your mom told my mom about it. I didn't think it was true, so I wanted to confirm with you," Samantha explains, getting up from her hunched position. I roll my eyes.

"Of course she told them," I grumble, flipping the pages of my binder to find the list of pep-tunes being used for this football season. "Yeah, I am. Their dad wanted them to like... be prepared for high school or whatever," I explain, slightly embarrassed. Samantha laughs under her breath.

"I see! Well, if you ever need an extra hand, I'm a drive away," she pats my shoulder before heading to the front of the room, sitting in her chair just inches away from the podium before class began.

Trios.

Glasses of water, stands, and wooden chairs from the dining room sat in the center of my bedroom.

Anxiety filled my stomach as I sit in one of chairs, my leg bouncing up and down as I try to calm myself. The air felt extremely hot all of the sudden as I stare down the book in front of me, the inked staffs and eighth notes taunting me as I await the arrival of the Kennedy girls.

I learned that the youngest was named Sherry. She played the euphonium, and I heard she wasn't the best at it from her father the other day. The other girl, Christina, is a trumpet player. She's a year older than Sherry, and she will be enrolling into Everglade High School next year. Their father speaks pridefully about them, and I can't help but find it a bit cute.

Even so, my nerves never faltered. Especially not when the doorbell rang.

I hear my mother greet the two girls, giving them a warm welcome before stomping up the stairs and towards my room. My heart pounded as I hear a gentle knock on my bedroom door.

"(Y/n)? The girls are here," she states. I stumble out of the wooden chair over to the door, opening it wide to let them in with a sheepish smile.

"Hey! It's good to see you," I awkwardly greet them. They nod at me in a similar manner as they enter my room, their footsteps pit-patting against the floorboards as they carefully walk over to the circle of chairs in the center of my bedroom. I take a seat, which is closest to my bed with my trumpet resting close to the foot of the chair. I clear my throat, trying to ignore the awful tension in the pit of my stomach as I took in the sight of the young girls in front of me.

They sat in the dining chairs daintily, their instrument cases set against the wooden chairs as they settled down. Sherry was a frail thing with baby blue eyes and her blonde hair styled in a low pony with a sweet red ribbon tied on the crown of her head. Her baby-blue vest was checkered, worn over a white dress shirt with a blue tie just under her chin. She also wore baggy cornflower shorts that went down just a hair past her knees.

The other girl, Christina, had chocolate brown hair that flowed freely down her back in long tresses, a bit matted. Her attire consisted of a simple pastel pink sweater and blue jeans that fit her legs a bit loosely. Her eyes were the the same shade of light blue as the rest of her siblings along with their button noses and fair skin. It was easy to tell that they were all related—the Kennedy's had very prominent features, especially with those perfect eyes of theirs.

It was hard to believe these girls are going to start high school so soon with how little they look, but I choose not to comment about it, clearing my throat with a cough before speaking.

"So... let's get to know each other before we start anything...!"

Posture is everything, I've learned.

I spent a good half of the two-and-a-half-hours with the girls trying to figure out why they sounded so... stale before realizing that they were both slouching in their seats. Their backs were hunched over the slightest amount to make them sound so weak while playing, and I had noticed only thirty minutes before our session ended.

Sherry and Chris—I had learned that she preferred to be called Chris—sat straight in their respective dining chairs, shoulders back with their bums at the edges of their seats. The younger of the two looked so little with the big ole euphonium planted in their lap that I was worried Sherry couldn't reach the mouthpiece at one point. Despite our bumps throughout the lesson, I came to like the Kennedy Girls.

Sherry, despite looking as fragile as a porcelain doll, wasn't afraid to get dirty. She easily slicked her fingers up with slide grease when I asked her to check her instrument before we tuned together, and even threatened to bet with her older sister about drinking valve oil which I immediately broke up. Even so, she was soft spoken for the most part, only ever getting rowdy if she was talking to her sister.

Chris was naturally smart-mouthed—it reminded me so much of her dear old brother. The difference between her when we first began the lesson to the end was quite apparent, it was hard to believe she was shy at all. The brunette played the trumpet quite well for her age, and I found myself satisfied with how she and Sherry learned so quickly.

"I think that's a enough for today, yeah?" I rest my trumpet on my lap and give the girls a soft smile. They nod in agreement, and I watch their jaws wiggle back and worth uncomfortably. I chuckle softly. "Go ahead and pack up and then I'll walk you two home, okay?"

"Okay!" they hum in unison, immediately reaching for their soft cases beneath their chairs. I get up to set my own instrument on my bed before leaving my bedroom, walking towards the bathroom just down the hall. Halfway through the short distance, a fake cough snaps me out of my thoughts. To my right is Damien's room, the door wide open to show me his lazy self lounging on his messy bed. I raise an eyebrow at him, my arms crossing below my chest.

"What do you want, Dami?" I tap my foot against the ground expectantly. He sticks his tongue out with a blank expression, looking at me upside on his bed.

"You guys are super loud," the idiot comments. You click your tongue at this.

"We're playing brass instruments. Of course we're loud," I walk away from his door and continue towards the bathroom.

I ignore his quips as I wash my hands, making quick work to get back to the girls. When I walk back into my room, I see them close my window and lock it, and an uneasy feeling fills my stomach. The two children notice me with light blushes dusting their faces, and I cock my head to the side questioningly.

"Was I interrupting something...?" I ask hesitantly. They shake their heads as a no, hands behind their back like ducklings as they try to act innocent. I decide it's best to not pester and keep the questions to myself.

"Are you two ready to go home then? I'm sure your dad wants you home for dinner," I walk towards the door of my bedroom, motioning them to follow. I watch them pick up their instruments before waddling up to me.

We walk out to the lower story together, the two girls trailing behind me. I lead the out the door silently, bidding my parents goodbye as we stepped out onto the porch. The autumn sun began to set, painting the sky in perfect hues of gold, pink, and blue as us three walked across the street. The distance to their house was short and sweet, and we stood on the front doorstep in a matter of seconds. The Kennedy Girls turn to face me, crooked-toothed smiles on their faces.

"Thank you for the lesson today, Missus!" they beam, and I feel my heart squeeze. I ignore the fact that they called me "missus" and flash them a smile back.

"Of course. I'll see you girls tomorrow in the high school band room, okay?" I remind them. Sherry looks a bit confused, but Chris quickly nods before dragging her sister into the house. When the door opens, I spot Leon standing a few steps away in the hall, watching us with a glass of milky-pink liquid in his hand.

He looked so innocent and sweet, but I wouldn't be fooled.

The ace has a cold look in his eyes, the same eyes the Kennedy family seemed to all share. His peachy lips are pressed into a tight, thin line as he glares at me from his spot in the hall before he looks down at his sisters with a cheesy smile that reaches his ears. It was almost terrifying how quickly his demeaner changed.

The door shut close with a light slam a soft clicking sound, telling me that the girls locked it.

I hold my breath as I begin the journey back to my home, silently wishing that tonight I can hear the sweet strum of a guitar before I go to bed.

finally the fifth part UHHHH this one kinda sucked i dunno i am kinda just doing what i want but ermmm..,

stay tuned for a self indulgent side story soon,,,,.,.,.,,..?

also yay this is now officially cross-posted on my ao3 under the same username!!

taglist: @bonnibuckets @umooooo74 @kurawooooooo @ilovemen1242 @elliewilliamsno1simp @v1v1dst4rs @iyagikkun @ir3nic-sluvv

[viperrot]

⇁high school sweethearts | leon kennedy | pt. 4

resident evil 4 remake leon s. kennedy x fem!band-student!reader high school au

you have a sweet encounter with leon, and there's already talk of ada and leon being together despite the moment you shared.

pt.1 pt.2 pt.3

content contains: mild angst, is this even enemies to lovers? i dont know anymore., mean leon, cliches, story is told in first person, reader is a bit shy and is an oboe and trumpet player!, leon and reader are in their juniour year, fictional town set around 1980!

not proofread i am sleepy

2119 words

song rec: "dust in the wind" by kansas

Teaching the fundamentals of music was no easy feat.

As I sat in the center of my room, a felt a growing frustration sit in the pit of my stomach as my eyes darted from paper to paper, thinking of ways to teach dynamics and balancing to middle schoolers. My music books from years ago were scattered around me, terrorizing each cell in my brain as I painstakingly search for simpler ways to teach these techniques to my students, who'll be coming over for their first lesson tomorrow afternoon.

The night breeze flowed from my open window, making some of the scores flitter around. I sigh tiredly, flopping down to lay on my back in an attempt to calm my nerves. The carpet beneath me tickled my cheek as I turned to lay on my side, my hands fiddling with the white fabric as the cool air soothed me. Slowly, my eyes drooped closed as I succumbed to sleep.

But the moment is short lived.

Drifting to my ears was the sweet sound of a guitar, echoing from wall-to-wall in my bedroom. The tune was vaguely familiar, and I found myself crawling to my little window nook in curiosity. I plop myself up on the small seat, peeping out of the window to search for the source of the sound. The streetlights flickered outside, the road silent save for the sweet music playing in the distance. My eyes focus on the house across from my own, squinting at the window parallel from me.

A warm glow emanated from the opened glass, inviting me to take a look. I can't see too much save for a desk with the source of the light on top of it. I bite my lower lip anxiously as I stare from my own window, wondering if that's where I'm hearing the music from.

Suddenly, the strings stop playing, and feel a sense of sorrow as silence fills the night. As I get up to go back to my spot on the floor, a familiar figure makes way to the window across the street.

Leon slumps down into his desk chair, placing an ebony guitar on his desk with a thump!. Immediately, I notice a string dangling from the side of the lump of wood, and I realize that he had been the one playing tonight. The blonde ace digs through the drawers of his desk, fishing out a roll of string and some other tools I couldn't quite name. Curiously, I watch the boy change the string, carefully tuning his seemingly well-loved acoustic guitar as he pokes his tongue out in concentration. When he was satisfied with the way it sounded after playing a short practice tune, he went back to playing, relaxing in his desk chair.

It was mesmerizing.

The way his fingers effortlessly plucked at the strings made my brain buzz. Deftly, he played chords that went along with Kansas' "Dust in the Wind". The music whistled to me across the street, throwing me into a trance as I rest my head on the window sill.

If I focused hard enough, I could hear Leon singing the lyrics beneath his breath, as if muttering them were a sin. His blonde locks of hair framed his face perfectly, the yellow glow of his desk-light contouring the lines of his strong jaw. My heart fluttered oddly at the peaceful sight. The further into the song Leon got, the louder he would get. I eventually heard him clearly from across the street.

Completely enamored, I lost myself in the sickeningly sweet voice of his, humming along with the ace from my spot. As Leon sang, he looked up from his instrument, and we locked eyes.

His lips don't stop moving.

Leon continues to serenade me, seemingly unbothered by our recent issues. The ocean blue of his eyes hooked me in, and I could no longer focus on the way his voice sounded or how the pads of his fingers drifted across the fretboard of his guitar. His voice went through one ear and out the other, and I could feel my breath hitch in my parched throat. I'm completely unaware of how the song has ended, our stares never faltered.

His lips are pressed into a straight line as he looks at me from across the street, baby blues gazing into my own.

And then I wave.

I fucking wave at him.

In my awkward trance, my hand swings back and forth in front of me, greeting him with a cheesy smile from my window. Leon waves back, just as awkwardly, as he threads his other hand through his hair, his guitar tucked securely in his lap. I feel a blush creep up my neck, flushing the skin a soft pink as I bite the inside of my cheek. Suddenly, I get an idea.

I lift my index finger in the air, silently asking him to wait. I see his eyebrows knit together confusedly as I turn away from my window, rummaging around my room to find my old black board and a piece of chalk from my book bag. I sit on my knees on the nook of my window, scribbling my thoughts onto the board before showing it to Leon.

"You play beautifully," I wrote to him in neat letters. I see Leon squint, his eyes trying to adjust to the dim streetlights. Leon moves quickly to set his guitar to the side to then dig through his desk drawers, pulling out a spiral notebook and a ballpoint pen. In big, red, and sloppy penmanship, he writes back,

"THANKS I'M GLaD yOu LIKE THE sERenAdE."

My eyes crease as I giggle at him from across the road when I notice how horrendous his writing is, facing my blackboard to myself to reply to him.

"How long have you been playing?" I question him, trying to write large enough for him to read. Leon scribbles on a new page.

"LIKE ?? SINCE I waS 7?" He responds, his lettering bold and messy.

"That's interesting. You didn't strike me as a music person," I write. I see Leon's face burn a soft pink despite the gap between us. He flips to a new page, quickly jotting down his response.

"RUnS iN THE fAmILY. DAD LoVES MUSiC," he flashes the paper to me, the paper crinkling beneath his tight grip. I nod at him from my end, smiling softly. I smudge off the chalk on my board.

"Well, it was beautiful," I show him the board before writing another response. "You should sing more often."

"WiLL You LISTeN IF i DO?" He asks me, an odd look in his eyes as he stares at me from his desk. I gape at him slightly, unsure of how to respond to the ace. Hesitantly, I nod, and I see a sheepish grin paint across his face.

"Goodnight, Leon," I bid him farewell before setting my small blackboard down, shutting the window with a soft click!. I gaze at Leon from behind the glass, seeing him wave at me with his notebook in the other hand.

"NIGHTY-NiGHT," it says in the worst handwriting I've ever seen. I giggle softly before I draw the curtains closed.

That night, I had a sweet dream.

The next day, I'm walking through the halls with my Sony Walkman buzzing through my skull, blasting "Brandy (You're a Fine Girl)" by Looking Glass into my ears. I had thirty minutes before the first period bell rings, giving me enough time to hang out with the girls as I always do. Entering the lunch room, I immediately spot the group of girls at a round table tucked into a corner.

"Sweet pea~!!" Samantha practically shouts above the crowd from her seat atop the table, waving her arm in the air. I jog up to her and the rest of the girls, greeting them with a smile.

"Is that your new oboe?" Patti points her daintily manicured index finger at the thin, black case in my left hand.

"Yeah... I tried playing it over the weekend. It's a bit poor quality for the level I play at, but it'll last me until our concert season officially begins," I sigh, frowning softly.

"Man...!" Lucy sniffles. "This is terrible! I can't believe Leon would do that to you--I mean, one of our best players gets their signature instrument trashed? That's honestly a sin!!" The blonde shoved her face into her hands, and I was worried that she was about to cry. Samantha huffs at this.

"It's whatever. We're going to be starting our fundraiser when football season starts up here in a few weeks, so we'll get her a new oboe by then," the ravenette says confidently, rubbing her hand onto my shoulder. I squirm in my seat as I think of whether or not I should tell them about what happened last night.

"Speakin' of Kennedy, have you heard about him and Ada Wong?" Patti mentions, and I visibly perk up at the subject.

"Wong?? What about her?" Samantha quirked an eyebrow, her fingers lacing together under her chin as she looked at our friend curiously.

"Apparently, her and Leon are dating! They went on a date over the weekend, and even went to Hattie's!" Patti rambled excitedly, eager to share the new info that's probably spreading around the schools like wildfire. I hear Samantha scoff next to me, and I just know she's rolling her eyes.

"Of course, he's in cahoots with her of all people," she scowls. "Dami's girl—he's probably trying to spite the poor guy," Samantha audibly recalls my brother's past relationship with the class president. I pout slightly at her suggestion, praying that wasn't true.

For the sake of my brother or for the sake of myself, I'm unsure.

"Are you sure they're dating? I mean..." I tap my fingers against my bottom lip in thought. "Leon's only been in Everglade for less than a week... How could he jump into Ada's tits so quickly?" I question. Patti shrugs her shoulders.

"Ada's got that charm, I guess," she scoffs gently. I hum in response, not sure on how to respond. I look down at the charms on my oboe case, which I had transferred from my old case. The bunny stared back at me with its beady, black eyes, comforting me. I look back up at my group to tell them about what happened last night, but I'm stopped when I see the devil walk past our little table.

In a woody-brown Carhartt jacket, blue jeans, and worn-out Timberlands was Leon Scott Kennedy. In his hands was a carton of strawberry milk, tossed up and down as he sauntered past our table. I watched his face closely, noticing immediately how he took a quick peek at me from the corner of his eyes. When he's out of earshot, the girls all sigh at the same time, as if they held their breaths the entire time he was within 5 feet of us.

"His ass is so tight in those jea-"

"Patti!!!"

"Sorry, Sam..."

I stifle a giggle behind the palm of my hand, a blush painting my face red as Samantha scolds the poor brunette for ogling at the "new" guy. I ignore them as I watch Leon take a seat at a long table near the center of the lunchroom. He's cozy next to Ada Wong, who's sporting a scarlet-hued sweater over a black collared shirt. Her hair is perfectly styled, like always, and there's a soft red gloss on her lips. There's an odd feeling in the pit of my stomach as I watch Leon swing his arm over her shoulder, pulling her into a side-hug situation. The smile on his face is wide, and he looks at-ease in his table filled with sweat-rags and other jock freakazoids.

"You have to admit, they do look good together," my best friend hums, looking over at me. I give Samantha a small frown in return, nodding in agreement as we all stole glances at the terrible sight in front of us.

Leon looks up at me for a split second, but it feels like ages to me. I see his fingers twitch on Ada's shoulder, as if he was planning to wave at me, but he stops himself.

His attention returns to the woman in red.

"I guess we shouldn't have expected much from a Greenvale student," Patti yawns, turning her attention to the dirt between her nails. The table exchanges mumbles of agreement, and I feel the feeling in my tummy get worse for some reason. The girls chat among themselves as I lose myself in my thoughts.

Chemistry is going to be awful.

i wanted to make this chapter a little sweet as an apology for the lack of updates AND as a thank you for 100 followers! it means so much to me that you guys are all so supportive :,]

a little taglist: @bonnibuckets @umooooo74 @kurawooooooo @ilovemen1242

[viperrot]

⇁high school sweethearts | leon kennedy | pt. 3

resident evil 4 remake leon s. kennedy x fem!band-student!reader high school au

you and your brother spend time together at a local diner. of course, you see leon there—with a pretty girl no less!

pt. 1 pt.2 pt.4

content contains: mild angst, mild enemies to lovers, mean leon, cliches, story is told in first person, reader is a bit shy and is an oboe and trumpet player!, leon and reader are in their juniour year, fictional town set around 1980!

not proofread i am sleepy

2252 words

song rec: "little nocturne" by hiroshi takaki

The little bell above the shop's wooden, yellow door jingles as Damien and I enter, and the smell of carpet and fresh paper fills my senses. The music shop is painted in a warm light, the wooden walls lined with an assortment of instruments ranging from guitars, drums, and a few brass, although very few. There's a few pianos tucked into corners, and shelves of lesson books and other arrangements are shoved into them. I've been here many times before, and the shop owner often gives me discounts with how frequently I visit. There's no one behind the register, so I assume whoever's working today is in the back.

"Mrs. Conaway?" I call out, eyes darting around the shop. From behind a shelf, a little head peeps out, revealing a frail woman in her late fifties. Her glasses make her eyes bubble, and her salt-n-pepper hair is tied up in a chaotic mess atop her head.

"Ah, good morning, you two!" Mrs. Conaway smiles goofily, waddling out from behind the wooden shelf. "I assume you're here for your oboe?"

"That 'n some slide grease. I'm running a bit low," I chuckle dryly, walking with the elderly woman to the register. To the left of the register is a glass case showing off a variety of wind instruments. There's flutes, a few piccolos, a trumpet mouthpieces, a single trombone, and finally...

The F. Lorée classic oboe.

My dream instrument since beginning junior high. A professional level oboe going for over three-thousand dollars, the Lorée company has been making them for almost a century, known famously for their beautifully crafted instruments. I had been saving up for one post-high school since my freshman year.

"Y'think daddy's money can afford that?" Damien nudges me with a joking smile, referring to the extra cash I'll be getting from tutoring the girls. I roll my eyes.

"Maybe," I chuckle. Mrs. Conaway pulls out a beat-up looking case from behind the register as Damien and I banter, setting it on top of the instrument display case to show it to me.

"It's an intermediate brand. I hope it isn't too bad," she gives me a sheepish grin.

"Don't worry!" I mirror her smile, popping open the case to give the double reed instrument a look. It's a little dirty and the corks look drier than a desert, but it was nothing I couldn't fix. "It's perfect, Mrs. Conaway. Thank you so much," I nod at her, clicking the oboe case shut carefully. She clasps her hands together happily.

"I'm so glad to hear that! And remember, you don't have'ta pay me for it. It's the least I can do for my sweetest customer!" The elderly woman says giddily.

"Agh, even so... I really appreciate it, Mrs. Conaway. I'll return it as soon as I get a new one," I promise her. She pushes the case toward me, eager for me to get on with playing it and also for me to leave so she can keep working. Damien and I walk out of the shop, stepping out into the sun that shun down onto the busy town centre.

"So...?" Damien looks at me with a wicked smirk. "We got the car for the day... are ya thinkin' what I'm thinkin', thumper?" He swings his arm over my shoulders. I eye him with a quirked brow. As if reading each other's mind, we shout in unison,

"ICE CREAM 'N JOYRIDES!"

Our cheer echoes down the street, but we giggle as if there's nothing wrong in the world. We jog over to the Impala, hopping in quickly before driving off to the best restaurant in the world—Hattie's. A local favourite, and everyone here swears that it sells the best shakes you could possibly imagine. Mrs. Hattie L. Parker started the old shoppe when Everglade was first founded in 1957 at the age of 22, and it's been a staple ever since in this old town. I can't name a single person here that doesn't frequent the place.

We pull into an empty spot with "Come On Eileen" playing lowly from the radio. As soon as we park, we throw ourselves out of the car, racing each other to the door of the diner while giggling all the way. I decide to bring my hand-me-down oboe with me, wanting to get some repair as soon as possible.

"You're cheating!" Damien yelps when he sees me get to the glass door faster than him.

"Nuh uh?! It's not my fault I'm just a lil closer to the door compared to you!" I cackle, pushing the door open with my back as I hug my case to my chest. My older brother gives me a rough pat on the head, jostling my hair around with his palm. I grunt at the affection, trying to pull him off of me as we stumbled into the bustling diner. It's almost packed, most of the booths and counter seats taken up. As Damien and I look around for a seat, I lock eyes with him.

In a booth is Leon Scott Kennedy, sitting with three other people. Next to him is the famous Ada Wong, known across the school for being the one of best lacrosse players in the county, as well as my graduate year's class president. I can't see the other two he's sitting with from where I'm standing, but I'm assuming it's someone from her little posse that's been at her feet since freshman year.

I feel myself shrink as I make eye contact with him, unconsciously drifting to stand behind my brother. Leon's got the same glare I saw him give me before Damien and I left to get my new oboe, which was clutched tightly to my front. I notice he changed his clothes, sporting a deep blue sweater with a white collared shirt beneath it.

Damien notices how quiet I'm being and follows my gaze.

"You good, thump- Oh..." The boy sneers at the sight of the ace. He squeezes my shoulder softly. "Ignore 'em, sis. Let's sit over here," he grunts, spinning me toward an empty booth at the opposite end of the diner. We settle into the red, leather seats, immediately ordering a sodapop and a banana-split to share between us. I keep my head down, eyes trained on the oboe case on the table.

Carefully, I open it to reveal the old thing. Rummaging through the case, I pull out a tube of cork grease and get to work. I'm careful as I apply the lubricant onto the dry corks, trying not to put too much on to avoid them get soft and even more flakey. All the while, I can feel the stares on me.

I look up hesitantly, eyes immediately settling on Leon. His arm is wrapped around Ada Wong's shoulder, fingers playing with the threads of her black cardigan. My fingers tighten around the lower piece of my oboe, an odd feeling in my chest as I watch the blonde be so casual with someone I assume he's only known for a day. Suddenly, he looks up at me, seeming just as confused as I am. I quickly look back down at the parts in my case, praying he didn't catch me staring.

"Can't believe he's hangin' out with Wong and her best friend," Damien huffs, fiddling with the turkey feather for my oboe. I remember that he and Ada had a thing going on before the summer. He never told me what happened—all I knew is that one night, he came home crying, and he sobbed about how much he loved her. I never brought it up since then, but tt finally occurs to me that Leon was most likely on a double date of sorts, and the ache in my chest worsens. Ada isn't really seen with boys outside of school unless she had some romantic interest in them...

"Are you really surprised, though? I mean, they're both heartless assholes with no personality," I sigh, setting the lower piece back into the case. I snag the feather out of Damien's fingers, stuffing it into velvet-lined container before closing it.

"Heh, I guess you're right," he chuckles.

Our order finally arrives, and I set my oboe in the booth next to me, making sure it won't fall again. Immediately, Damien tears apart the sweet treat we got, and I fear he won't spare me a bite. I laugh softly at his messy eating, the neapolitan ice cream smearing across his lips as he chowed down.

From the corner of my eye, I see my tormentor staring at me from his seat, and he's got this look in his eyes I can't quite place. His plump lips are pursed a little, and there's a small crease between his brows. I can't tell if he's looking here to judge me or if he's trying to brew up new ways to harass me. My heart pounds and I can feel a thin layer of sweat form at the top of my neck as I stress.

"Do you want to leave, (Y/n)?" My brother asks, looking up from the bowl of ice cream. His voice is stern, and I can tell he isn't playing around.

"Uhm..." I bite the inside of my cheek, thinking of what to do. "I... I think I'll be okay," I swallow dryly, reaching out for the glass of sodapop to take a sip. Damien seems unconvinced with the way he's narrowing his eyes at me.

"M'kay..." he grunts, going back to eating the sundae. I take a few nibbles as well, trying my best to ignore the way Leon watched me from his seat across the room.

He's on a date with someone... Why is he so focused on me?

Thankfully, Damien finishes off the ice cream quickly. With the way he's so jittery, I can tell he wants to leave, too. We stack our plates close to the end of the table so it's easier to clean up before we head to the register, wanting to pay and leave as soon as possible. I carry my oboe case behind my back, swaying back and forth on my heels as my brother pays for our treat. When we turn around to leave, we're face to face with the people we wanted to avoid.

"Dami, it's good to see you again. Couldn't you bother to say hello?" The girl in red smiled up at my big brother. Finally, I have a good look of the group.

Ada's dressed in her classic colours, the scarlet sweater-dress tight against her bosom that's accentuated by the cross hanging by her neck. Her ebony cardigan is kept over her arm as she stands with her hip popped out a bit, making her hourglass figure apparent.

Leon's sweater-collared combo was paired with mocha coloured dress pants, the sleeves of his shirts rolled up to his elbows to show off his muscle.

The other couple accompanying them, I gave no attention to, instead tugging at Damien's shirt in attempt to ground him

"That's rich coming from someone who didn't have the balls to say goodbye to me," my brother says through gritted teeth, his eye twitching lightly as his knuckles turned white. Ada gave him a hearty laugh.

"Oh, Dami, that was so long ago. I'm surprised you even remembered with how drunk you were," she chuckles, wiping a tear from her eye. This comment concerned me. My brother was drinking...?

"Don't fuckin' call me that," he seethed. I clutch the fabric of his t-shirt, pulling on it lightly.

"Damien, let's just go," I plead, not wanting the situation to get worse.

"You got a new clarinet, huh?" Leon states, pointing at the case I held at my side. I look at him, terrified that he'll snatch it out of my hands and shatter it just like the last. I hide it behind my back cautiously.

"Y-yes..." I squint at the blonde man. "Now, if you'll just... excuse us," I coughed, dragging Damien by his shirt as I tugged him behind me, squeezing between Ada and Leon to get through.

My side bumps into Leon's, and something within me feels... uneasy. The contact was quick, but I felt like I was burning up when I felt the skin of his arm graze against my own. I mumble a quick "excuse me" as we pass the two brats, my oboe case clutched tightly in my hands. Damien and I walk out the door, and I try my best not to look back.

I can feel Leon's piercing stare on the back of my head, following me as if I was some sort of prey.

What does he want from me?

"Are you okay, Dami?" I worry, my hand rubbing his arm comfortingly the moment we're out of the diner. His eyes are clearly droopy, and I just know he wants to go home now when he flashes a tired smile.

"M'okay, sis... Just... Didn't think she'd talk to me, y'know?" He chortles humourlessly. I hum in understanding, helping him to the driver side of the Impala.

"Let's go home, Dami," I say, sad that our day of fun was so quickly soured.

There was one thing on my mind on the drive home. Thoughts of Leon's odd behaviour threw me into a dizzy. Why does he hate me so much that he's willing to glare at me across the room? Why does he even care?

High schoolers are so weird...

is he actually dating ada? hmm... guess we'll find out :p pt.4

[viperrot]

⇁high school sweethearts | leon kennedy | pt. 2

resident evil 4 remake leon s. kennedy x fem!band-student!reader high school au

oboes are fuckin' expensive. much to you and your brother's dismay, the school is making you pay for the damages instead of your newfound enemy. oh, and his dad wants you to tutor his daughters!

pt. 1 pt.3

content contains: mild angst, enemies to lovers, mean leon, cliches, story is told in first person, reader is a bit shy and is an oboe and trumpet player!, leon and reader are in their juniour year, fictional town set around 1980!

not proofread i am sleepy

2252 words

song rec: "the mercy of the wind" by million eyes

still on the slower side, but alas.

"Ms. (L/n)? They're asking for you at the guidance office," Mr. Kay coughs during our water break. I look up at him, confused for a moment, but I realize it was most likely to talk about that awful interaction that happened before this period between Damien, Leon, and me.

"Oh... Oka-"

"Let me go with her, Mr. Kay," Sammy demands, setting her flute down in her case beneath her seat. Before the director can say anything, the ravenette drags me by the sleeve of my shirt out of the door. She's got this pout on her lips, and I know that she's still angry.

"I can't believe that fuckin' asshole just thought it was a good idea to drop your oboe like that!" She fumes. I swear I can steam come out of her ears as she grumbles profanities about the ace soccer player. "Y'know, you'd think that he knows how expensive those things can be since he has two sisters in band, but nnooooo, he just had to go on 'n do that to you, huh? I'll show him...!"

"Sammy, it's fi-" The five-foot-nine beauty stopped in her tracks, turning on her heel to face me and slam her palms onto my shoulder.

"Sugar, it's not fine," she sighs, seeing how shocked I looked. "That oboe is your baby. You can beat up your trumpet as much as you want, but that oboe is what's gettin' you into college," she reminds me. I look down at the toes of my converse, a bit embarrassed by how I was so easily putting off my emotions. I feel Sammy give my cheek a soft caress with her thumb.

"Don't lie to yourself and put Kennedy in a shinin' light. He did something awful to you, and that's a fact. Me 'n your brother are gunna make him pay hell," the girl assures me, and I nod at her words.

"Thank you, Sammy... I'm glad you love me enough to tell me I'm being an idiot," I chuckle dryly. She slaps my shoulder softly.

"That's what best friends are for, (Y/n)!" Sammy gives me a comforting smile, and we begin walking again. The journey is a bit long considering the band room is on the opposite end of the high school, but it was fun because of how Sammy described the most grotesque ways of torturing the new boy in town. Eventually, we made it to the guidance office, and inside was my counselor, my older brother, and the devil incarnate.

"Ah, there you are," my conselor, Ms. Penelope smiles. She nods at Samantha, and I figure she's okay with my friend being here. I sit down awkwardly between Leon and Damien, shrinking in my spot to take up as little space possible. My best friend sits next to Damien, furthest away from the ex-Greenvale resident. The silence is deafening, and I feel as if I could cut the tension with a knife.

"So..." Ms. Penelope clears her throat, resting her dainty hands atop her desk. "I think we all know why you three are in here," she motions towards the boys and me. Damien grunts, and Leon is dead silent. I decide to speak up.

"How will my oboe be repaired?" I question. I see Ms. Penelope's expression turn a bit somber. Through gritted teeth, she responds.

"Well, I had asked some other people before I called you in, and they said it would be best not to penalize Mr. Kenne-"

"What.," Damien and Sammy eyes narrowed as they spoke in unison. I hear Leon stifle a giggle, and my brother immediately stands up, about to pounce.

"Don't fucking laugh, you piece of shit!" He roars, fist tight at his sides. "That thing was hard-earned, dipshit!"

"Mr. (L/n), sit down, now!" Ms. Penelope gasps.

"Please," Leon scoffs. "Nothing from your family is hard-earned. As far as I know, you bribed your coach to be team captain. It's too bad that money's all wasted, Dami-poo~ I'm here now," the blonde smiles devilishly, and I see my brother is getting ready to rip his throat out.

"You little-!"

"Boys! Settle down, please! You are not making this situation any better," Ms. Penelope orders. Like a kicked puppy, Damien retreats back into his seat, crossing his arms beneath his chest like a child being scolded by his mother.

"Ugh, Ms. Penelope, this doesn't make any sense. That was an advanced-level instrument. If (Y/n) can't get it repaired or replaced soon, she won't have anything to play for our concert season," Samantha said, trying to reason. "Surely he can pitch in a little money. This is his fault, after all."

"I'm sorry... I have no control over this. If I had it my way, I'd have him pay in full, but it was a request from our principal. The best I could do was have a fundraising event approved for your band," the brunette woman explain, her frown worsening.

"Great. Can I leave now? My study hall is about to end, and I've got an English class to catch," Leon yawned out, the sleeve of his Greenvale High letterman straightening as he stretched. Ms. Penelope pinched the bridge of her nose, clearly irritated dealing with ignorant high schoolers.

"Yes, yes. Go 'head, Mr. Kennedy," she eagerly dismisses him. Immediately, he saunters out the door of her office, seemingly very happy with himself. The door shuts with a click, and it's just us four left. Tears begin to swell in the corner of my eyes.

"Erm... So, w-what's the fundraiser going to b-be?" I stutter out, not wanting to show weakness. The counselor hands me a slip of paper.

"I recommended a bake sale. It's simple, and I know our little town never says no to a sweet treat, especially with how nice the weather's been recently," she smiles gently at me, and I feel my heart squeeze. Samantha takes the pink sheet out of my hands and grins from ear to ear.

"Thanks, Ms. Penelope. I'll be telling our director about this. Is that all you needed from us?" Sammy asks, standing up from her spot. The brunette shakes her head as a no and has us leave her alone. Damien sighs when the door closes behind us, and I can tell he wants to blow up. I take his hand in mine, softly squeezing it.

"You okay, Dami?" I frown. He looks at me, clearly distraught.

"I guess..." he huffs. "I just wish he were dead," his eyes narrow, and I know he's thinking about Leon.

"Tch, you 'n me both," Sammy clicks her tongue.

"You gunna be okay, sis? I can get Ma to pick you up if you need," Damien asks me, worried. I think for a moment, and I nod as a yes. It's a Friday anyways, and there won't be any games until two weeks. Sammy leaves Damien and me on our own, deciding to get back to the band room to retrieve my belongings. My dear big brother takes me to the front off and requested the desk-lady to call our mom. After a bit, he left me with a chaste kiss on my forehead and told me to wait for Mom and Samantha.

I sat alone in the office, patiently waiting for my mom with my broken oboe in my lap.

"Hey, (Y/n)? Can you come down here for a second?" I hear Mom call from the bottom of the stairs. I slug myself out of the bed, not wanting to leave my room. My slippers drag against the floor as I slump down the stairs, wanting to get this over with and just sleep for the rest of the day. We don't have dinner until an hour or two, so I'm curious as to why Mom would call me down so early. When I make it down the stairs, I see Mom sitting in the living room with a familiar man, happily talking to him.

"She's had a bit of a rough day, so give her a moment," I hear her tell him. I walk in, still in my school clothing. My fingers fiddle with the fabric of my shirt as I sit down next to my mother, looking at the man confused.

It's Leon's dad...

"Honey, this is Mr. Kennedy. He wants to ask you a favour," Mom sets a hand on my shoulder, squeezing it softly. I swallow dryly, a tight feeling in my chest as I stare at the blonde man across me. His hair is slicked back, dressed in black dress pants, and a maroon button-up. His eyes are a gentle chocolate brown, a stark difference compared to his son's harsh and icy hues. Mr. Kennedy nods at me, smiling gently.

"Nice to meet you, (Y/n)," he grins at me. "I got a suggestion from my little ones' band directors about private lessons for trumpet. I was wondering if you were perhaps interested? I'm willing to pay you 20$ an hour if so," he asks me, crossing his legs. My eyes widen at his price.

"O-oh, uhm...!?" I bite my bottom lip, unsure of what to say. I shoot a look at my mom to my left, silently begging for guidance. She gives me only a reassuring smile, and I look back at Mr. Kennedy.

"Well?"

"Uhm... sure," I cough. "Is it alright if they're after school every Monday, Tuesday, and some Friday nights? I would like her to have some experience with our marching band as well, if you're both okay with it," I ask him. He thinks for a moment before nodding.

In the end, we agree with the schedule. Every Monday and Tuesday, his daughters will come over to practice with me. For Fridays, they'll only accompany during home football games to get some experience playing more advanced pep-tunes, but only if they want to. I tried to tell him that 20$ an hour was a bit much, but he insisted, claiming that his daughters can be rowdy. Eventually, he leaves, and I'm left alone with my mom in the kitchen to drink some tea. Slumping in my seat, I sigh annoyedly.

"Do you think he knows about my...?"

"Maybe," Mom murmurs as she washes dishes, sometimes looking at the stove to check on the boiling pasta. "But I'm assuming not," she hums, and I frown. I didn't have the heart to tell him his son is a heartless person, and it made me feel a bit worse than it should have. I leave the kitchen without another word, stumbling back into my room to cry a bit more...

It's sunny today.

"Oi, thumper, wake up," Damien raps at my bedroom door, opening it enough to poke his head in. I'm already up, sitting in my window nook while I look through some music I played in middle school to get ready for tutoring. I look up from the sheets, staring blankly at my brother.

"Ready?" I ask him. He looks surprised that I'm awake, but he nods.

"Mom's letting me take Pa's car today," my older brother smirks, dangling the silver keys in the air. I chuckle, knowing how much he loves Dad's little Impala. I get up from my spot in my plush nook, following Damien downstairs and out the door after we bid our parents goodbye. The two of us race to the car childishly, giggling all along as we throw ourselves into the noir Chevrolet. We settle into the cool leather seats, and I immediately pop on our cassette tape that’s stored in the center console. Immediately, Toto’s “Hold the Line” begins, and we begin to pull out of the driveway. As Damien hums along to the song, I look out of the window to my left.

Today, we’re going out to get a hand-me-down oboe from a local shop that is generous enough to give me one since I’m there so often. A little temporary deal until my personal one can be repaired or replaced. As we pull out of the drive way, I catch sight of the devil across the street.

He’s sitting on the porch, and I’m confused as to how I didn’t notice him before. In Leon’s lap is what looks like a guitar, and he’s got this ugly scowl on his face as he glares at us from his home.

“What an ugly bastard,” Damien white-knuckles the wheel, glaring at him through the rearview. I glance over to my brother, seeing his brows furrow as he stares down the blonde boy across the street.

A large part of me wanted to defend Leon’s beauty. I know I should hate him, but he’s just so… charming. From the rearview, I notice how his hair is a little damp, and I assume he had showered this morning. His shirt is simply white, and I can’t see the rest of his outfit from the way he sat behind his porch. My fingers clutch the at fabric of my sleeves, holding myself back from saying something about Leon’s looks. We drive past the Kennedy household, and I can’t help but stare through the window.

Leon’s gaze pierces through the glass, and I feel myself shrink into my seat, my heart drumming against my ribcage as we lock eyes. His lips are formed in a straight line as his icy glare follows the Impala I rode in, and I can’t bring myself to look away.

Is it wrong to want to talk to him, despite what he did to me?

uhh its still slow but yk i think thats what will make it good or not i honestly just type out my scrambled thoughts and hope it works!

pt.3 here!

some lovelies⇁ @vampiramaeve @kurawooooooo @umooooo74 @estre11afugaz