This is my very first fic and I am hyperventilating while uploading it. Hope you will enjoy it!

The three stories building faced west, stood lonely in the afternoon sun and the absence of lively teenagers. Thin autumn light penetrated the half-opened glass window, sneaked in between the spaces of the blind, and printed parallel lines of shadow on the desks, the teacher's back, and the scattered sheets of papers. As if it was mocking, the light highlighted the shitty grades in the corner of the papers.

"These are your grades from the first semester exams," said Brock with a solemn frown, staring in the face of his fidgeting student. "I know that club activities take lots of your time and interest, but if your academic grades are as bad as these", here he uncrossed his arms, moved one to the papers, and tapped his finger on the red-inked 17/100. "I can't let it slide".

Even with the breezes and cool maple-scented air filled the room, Red still felt the sweat forming on his temples and in his tight clenched palms. Sinking further into the chair, he faced the teacher with a nervous smile. " But sir," he cleared his throat, "You're not gonna call my house because of this" he cleared his throat once more "aren't you?"

"As your adviser, I'm responsible for evaluating your results and helping you to upgrade them. Though as much as I want to talk to your beautiful mother" Brock sighed, "I don't want to work overtime and I don't want her to either. Your mom works two jobs, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Okay, I won't call your house" Red's face immediately radiated. "But I have to see improvements in your grades, and you're going to comply with my methods."

The teenager straighten his back, fixed his posture, and tried putting on a serious, determined expression that would cover up his joyful relief, though it did not work well, as his pair of red eyes were practically gleaming in the soft sunlight. "Anything, Brock! As long as you won't tell my mom, I'll do whatever you suggested to get my marks up."

"Good" smiled Brock, "go to the library on Monday after school. I already planned it out. Wait, did you just drop 'sir' and call my first name again!?"

Before he could answer the indignant teacher, Red had already bolted out of the room, chirped "Thanks! Bye", and pulled the slide door shut. The sound of his running footsteps and Brock's hollering of "NO RUNNING IN THE HALLWAY!" echoed in the lonely building.

From Monday to Thursday, the gate closed at 5:30, and at 4:30 on Friday with early dismissal. Surge, one of the gym teachers, was in charge of shutting/guarding the gate before and after school. This job gave him the joy of watching kids miserably running for their lives, and having small talks about detention for those who were less fortunate that didn't make it. It was Friday that Brock held Red back for a good hour of lecture (such lovely way to spend Friday afternoon), and was also the day that Gold decided to challenge Red for another rematch at the arcade. Red had always won, but did not plan to lose by not showing up.

Sprinting through the closing gate while avoiding the obstacle (Surge) was a difficulty of life that Red was often well trained for because of the late club practices. This was the forth time of the week and Red will not risk getting captured. He did not want to show up on the Sunday's news with an article having 'Teen Suicide' as the title.

However, Red's triumph of the succeeded escape only lived a brevity when he brutally collided into another obstacle. He landed onto the person, the person landed onto the ground. Notebooks, papers, pens, pencils, and whatever stuff that students carry, scattered on the dusty, brown-red leaves covered sidewalk.

"Oh shit, I'm..." supported with his arms, Red got the upper body up and stayed in the knee push-up position, still lightheaded from the crash.

"WHERE THE HELL ARE YOUR EYES AT?" The derisive shout ringed through his ears, awakened his senses to focus the vision on those green eyes, which were glaring dagger at him. Red had never seen any eyes so green.

"...Hey!...HEY! WOULD YOU MIND GETTING OFF OF ME NOW!?" A forceful shove to the shoulder and exasperated growls had pulled Red back to reality of the strange position they were in. He was pinning the guy down, and one of his knees was in between the guy's legs.

"Oh, sorry!" He scrambled to stand up, then offered a hand to the one on the ground. That one smacked away Red's hand and stood up by himself.

"Um, sorry...again" the rejected hand found its way to raven hair and dug in the fingers, avoiding awkwardness. "Er… Are you okay?"

"No" was all the sulky teen gave to Red's concern, before dusting his school uniform dark trousers and lowering to collect the backpack contents. Red lowered to do the same. But his attention was on somewhere else rather than pens and notes on the ground: it was on the ears where a few strands of brunette hair fell softly upon; on the cheeks and nose where perfect sharpness was defined; and on the thick, brunette eyelashes where underneath hid eyes that shone a vibrant green. Again, Red swore he had never seen any eyes so green. And oh wait, the mouth...

"What?" an annoyed tone dragged Red's attention back to the eyes, which were featured with a pair of furrowed brows.

"Huh?"

"The hell you staring at?" Red flinched. Had he been actually staring? Okay, okay, when get caught red handed, just play cool.

"Ah-uh...nothing. I-I don't know?" Great, way to go, Red. A question? A statement? Whatever the damn hell that was, even Red cannot comprehend it himself.

"Are you a moron?" Green orbs blinked once, then twice, for either adjusting their pupils to the brightness or the brunette was just plainly amused. "Cause I think you are". A corner his mouth lifted into a smirk, foul mouth it seemed but also small and kissab-... OKAY! RED, STOP STARING!

"N-no, I'm not!" Red had given up the one-sided staring contest when he caught up with the belittlement from the other. Now internally, he swore he had never met anyone this rude before.

"Only morons would close their eyes running down the street, have their bag open, and absentmindedly stare at strangers".

"Oh yeah? But you're letting a moron crash you down to the ground, you too was having your bag open, and CONSCIOUSLY LETTING A MORON STARE AT YOU?" Oh, wait a minute...

It was impossible to distinguish the differences between the colour of red autumn leaves and the colour of the two teenagers' faces, because there was none. Embarrassment, confusion, loss of self-esteem,... all those shitty emotions that adolescence consist of they both experienced then. And if awkwardness was a good enough reason to die for, Red would be happy to volunteered jumping into a hole.

"W-what the fuck is wrong with you…?" After a long uncomfortable silence, the brunet initiated with muffled, croaky voice.

Red had never regret staring at him again at this moment. The image of him with head hanging low, eyes averting to the ground; face, ears, neck blushing insanely; and with one arm, pathetically attempting to hide them, will ever burned into Red's memory. The rude, pugnacious sonofabitch suddenly vanished into the air, leaving behind only the one that stood in front of Red. Seriously, Red thought he'd had a heart attack right there as the thumping noise and the pace of his heart just doubled from earlier. Can't be the same person, Red thought, can't be.

Though if people said that this was love at first sight, they were wrong. Because no love ever included things like the person whom you love named you 'creepy moron', flipped you the finger, and ran away.

...

"Red! Why r' you so damn late? Holy shit! What's wrong with you!?" Gold was in the middle of dominating billiards when the dejected teen arrived. The teen dragged himself and his 'feel like shit' aura into the arcade, which stood so out of place in the convivial environment. His kouhai/best friend abandoned the winning game and led him straight to the fast food store across the street.

"So wasshup'?" Gold asked with his mouth busy chewing on a burger bite.

"Got rejected." Gold choked on the bite, coughed violently, then snatched the soda and slurped a big gulp of the fizzing drink down his throat. When finished, he inhaled.

"WHAT? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?" Red shot him a 'I ain't repeating that shit' look. "Okay, d' you confess?"

"No".

"Then how d' she reject you?"

"Stared at her, that's all. Called me a creep and ran away." Red sighed before his kouhai gave him a disbelief/disgust look. "Hey! You watch Silver all the time!"

"Yeah, but discreetly!"

"You think that makes it better?"

Gold cocked his head to the side and shrugged "Well, no. Argh, fine, is she pretty?"

The image of the brunet's gleaming eyes and flushing cheeks flashed through Red's mind. "Beautiful".

"Like?"

"Soft brown hair, cute ears, bright green eyes, elegant nose, cute mouth, sharp jaw line, and delicate neck." The vivid image that Red wanted recall so much more became ineffable. He wanted to see more, to remember more.

"Dude, you're a creep in love". Gold took another gulp of his drink. "She smacked you hard".

Dropping his head on the folded arms on the table, Red let out a groan. "By the way",

"What?"

"She's a guy". Gold choked once more.

... Meanwhile at the brunet's residence

Vulgar. Disgusting. Unbelievable. What a fucking creep. Green cursed internally while dropping the cumbersome cardboard box to the ground.

"Hey, watch it! That one's my stuff!" Called from a woman with long brown hair, who was making her way down the stairs with little boxes in her hands.

"Why don't you move your own stuff then?" He scoffed grumpily. Outside, there's creeps; inside, there's work. He had nowhere to escape.

"Cause I'm a girl, and I have a cute, easy to manipulate little brother." Stopping halfway on the stairs, she chirped happily and threw him the boxes. Green stumbled to catch it, he hissed "Don't call me that!"

Oh, wait...a girl. That's right! "Daisy?"

"Hmm?"

"W-what would you do if you meet a creep?"

"Kick him in the crotch. Why?"

"Ummm...nothing. Thanks." Green ended the conversation by vanishing into his room. Tossing himself into bed, he wiped away the sweat on his forehead, and hoped that his thought about the creep would also be wiped away like that. His ego was not affected by the creep's stare, in fact, it was buffed up. But when he was caught savoring it by letting the creep stared him down, Green felt so ashamed.

His cat entered the room and started meowing. He rolled to the edge of the bed, reached and scooped her up onto his chest. He stroked her fluffy, brown fur coat, and was satisfied when she purred in return.

"Though, you know what, Eevee? At least it was funny when the guy admit that he himself was a moron" Green chuckled to the cat. "And it's like I would ever meet him again, right?"

Contented with the thought, Green petted the cat some more until she got bored and left, then got up from the bed and stretched. He grabbed his backpack to do homework (moving Daisy's boxes can wait), so he could be free the whole weekend. However, his plan would work well only if the notebook in his hand was actually his, instead, it read "Red Masara" on the name tag.

Green threw the notebook across the room.