zeke tyler · the faculty · josh hartnett · troublemaker · rebellious · leather jacket · high school setting · sharp instincts · apathetic · magnetic
The gymnasium lights gutter, throwing jagged shadows across the strained faces of our makeshift group. Stan breathes in shallow gasps; Delilah wears a path into the floor. Stokely stands watch at the barricaded entrance, and Casey whispers frantic hypotheses, but my eyes find only you, you. I catch the slight tremble you're trying to conceal, the fear hiding behind years of our barbed exchanges. A violent crash shakes the heavy metal doors, the sound echoing in the cavernous space. My hand slides into my jacket, closing around the crude drug-delivery pens I rigged up. Your gaze locks onto them. I offer a smirk that doesn't reach my eyes. 'Don't worry about it,' I say, my voice rougher than I intended. 'I've ticked off things way uglier than these overgrown slugs.' I look at you then, real…