A/N: I know what you're all thinking: What is she doing writing something else when she has yet to continue the GenjixReader story. Well, since the second season of Life is Strange is coming out, I gave the first season a crack and fell for this bastard. So, while I'm procrastinating, I thought I'd write a story with him. The poor baby needs love! I'm also almost done with the Genji story, just a few more paragraphs and it'll be finished. Anyways, enjoy this one, too!

Life was pretty boring today. I stare at the blackboard full of pictures behind the teacher, Mr. Jefferson. I always get bored in his class, lecture after lecture. I don't really write anything in my notebook for this particular class. Just to look busy, I doodle in it. No matter how long I've been in this class, it always feels like I don't get it, because the way he describes it all, sounds like it's a meticulous job to capture a moment through a lens. Even so, the photographs and homework I turn in seem to impress him enough to give me a passing grade. Actually, more than passing, I seem to be incredible in this class. Anyways, the pictures behind him are pretty bland. High res photographs that this hipster decided to filter in black and white. Making it look like a mess of blacks and grays. At this point he's gabbling on about one of the photographers we're studying, I forget his name. Something-Adams and our assignments have to do with landscapes in black and white. He goes on and on about it having to be about the angle and the environment and blah blah blah. In all honesty, I was placed in this class because of the newspaper, taking it the first year to get used to what I was doing; now as a senior, I was placed here for the sake of credits. I guess also for the school's publicity, "New famous teacher makes big waves at nowhere high school" I giggle, hiding my smile, but it's not enough to keep the hipster off my case.

"Miss Thorne, I may be a teacher, but I like to laugh at a good joke every now and then," he says, bringing all attention to me in the back corner of the classroom, "mind sharing your incredible joke that distracted you from my lecture?" I stare at him for a few seconds before glancing over at the clock, then back at him. He notices where I'm looking and snaps his head back to me, prepared for my response.

"I just find it funny that we have a minute and a half left before class ends, and you haven't even announced the 'Everyday Heroes' contest." He stares blankly at me, defeated. I cheer inside my head for my victory. He straightens himself and clears his throat before speaking.

"Thank you, Miss Thorne, for reminding me about the special occasion," he looks around the classroom as he speaks, "As you, all may know, our school, every year so far has participated in the annual national photography contest with it's running theme of 'Everyday Heroes'. Each student in the school will enter a photo with a subject of what they believe is an everyday hero. Then, yours truly will choose one photo and student as the winner, where they, along with myself, will jet-set to San Francisco where their photograph will be displayed in the Gallery amongst the other winners of other schools." He leads his gaze towards me as if addressing only me.

"I hope everyone will submit a photo." he smiles eerily just as the bell rings. As everyone bustles out of the door, say for a few students waiting to either help from the old hipster or something else, I pack my bag, taking out my pair of headphones and wrap them around my head. Letting the music blast so as to not hear anyone. I hurry to my locker, trading my bookbag with a smaller one. It holds my freshly washed gym clothes and tennis shoes. It's been a week already since school started, and the P.E teachers are gonna start grading us for having our gym uniforms. I had to search my room for this stupid thing. Musty and old, it smelled of weed and needed a good cleaning so I wouldn't get in trouble over it. I may be a stoner, but I'm not a dumbass. I hurry to the gym, which was so generously placed on the other side of the school. I barely make it before the bell rings again, only a couple minutes left before they lock the lockers. I quickly strip and change to the uniform, rubbing at the aging fabric. Boy, I'm glad this is the last year I have to wear you. I head outside where the classes are already starting to gather. The teachers with their whistles, calling for the student's attention. There's not a lot of seniors in this class. From what I could see, a lot of them had already taken their required classes the years before as pairs in the semester. I was naive enough to decide to take one class each year. I sigh at my defeat. For the today, the teachers let us have a free day, and soon enough most of the kids are already in groups, either playing basketball, walking the small track around the gym or playing volleyball. I sigh, walking is the last thing I need when my next class is, once again, gonna be at the opposite end. I spot two younger girls, huddled together and staring at the groups. I decide to approach them, I got nothing to lose. I greet them with a smile. The smaller of the two smiles back while the other, a punk goth it seems, pretends to not care.

"You girls don't mind pairing off with me?" I ask, neither seem to protest and for a few awkward moments, we stand around.

"Cool, I'm Matilda, you can call me Madi," I say, the two girls introduce themselves as well. The punk-goth is Alyssa, a heavier girl, especially next to Kate- the smaller one next to her.

"So, what do you guys wanna play?" I ask, already eyeing the volleys. They both shrug before answering.

"We were thinking of doing some laps around the track," Kate says, I pout at the idea. They notice this and wait for me to respond.

"How 'bout some volley. It'll do us some good since it's gonna be one of the first sports we play later." The two girl glance at each other, as if asking if they should go along with it.

"Come on, I'll even go easy on you guys," I tease, they give half-hearted laughs, but don't argue any further. I run to grab a ball and toss it over to Kate. She catches it haphazardly and I have to run back to them to make sure she isn't hurt.

"Sorry, forgot I said I was going easy on you guys," I say. She gives a shy smile and starts to move backward, ready to serve. Though the two girls aren't fully accustomed to the sport, they do a pretty good job for first timers. Our easy-going atmosphere doesn't last very long as one of the jocks ends up throwing a basketball our way, hitting a bullseye on Alyssa's head. Kate runs to catch the ball and I go to comfort Alyssa. She's not crying, but she's clutching the back of her head as if it's about to fall. The boys only a couple of feet away, chuckling away at what seemed to them a hilarious joke. Kate comes back with the ball, ready to toss it over. I turn to her and held out my arms for her to pass it. I gaze over to the boys, giving them a sly smile, one of them gets ready to catch. I don't throw it to them, instead, I aim it just below the basket and throw. The ball doesn't make it, not even close. Instead, it falls smack-dab on one of the boy's face. A loud thud is heard, followed by a moan from the poor bastard. One of the teachers rushes over to him to reveal a bloodied nose. He points towards me, getting ready to throw me to the dogs. I recover.

"Sorry about that!" I yell over to them in a flirtatious tone, the teacher turns towards me.

"We'll work on your aim, a'ight?" he says and I give a thumbs up. I turn back to the girls who were practically using me as a barricade.

"Come on, let's move somewhere where they won't hit you," I say, trying to comfort her and lead them to the other side of the gym. I glance over to see how the boy is doing, most of his friends are surrounding him, laughing at his bloodied nose. One of them seems to see us and glares at me.

"Who's the guy staring daggers at us?" I ask them, thinking they might now. Alyssa looks over but turns back in a heartbeat.

"That's Nathan Prescott!" she whispers as if he could hear us from all the way over here. I examine him a little better before he turns back to his posse.

"That's the Prescott kid?" I say, a little disappointed. I had honestly thought he would look more intimidating. He just looks like the textbook example of a rich brat. No ugly gym uniform, instead it's replaced with a matching tracksuit with expensive looking fabric. He also seems to be quite a small kid. Aside from that, he isn't too hard on the eyes. Nicely slicked back dirty blonde hair, somewhat curly. A well proportioned, sculpted clean face. I don't think I was blushing, but if I was, it wouldn't be surprising.

The three of us continue playing until the hour is up. We all dress out and head to our own classes. I wave goodbye to the girls as they head the opposite way and blast my music on my way to my next class. The rest of the day goes by pretty quickly, as there isn't much to do in the second week but go over the class' syllabus. I stretch as my last class finishes. Walking down the hall, I'm suddenly stopped by Jefferson.

"Miss Thorne!" he calls out. I pause; if only I had my earphones on. I turn around and walk over to where he's standing.

"I wanted to speak to you privately," he starts, leading me inside, I roll my eyes, "I've been getting the feeling that you haven't enjoyed my classes all that much, despite the amazing work you turn in." I decided to pop his bubble.

"It's not really that," I begin, " it's just that I've already taken this class already, and, there's not really anything new for me to learn that I already learned previously," I add in a sorry at the end, I think I meant it. He sighs, clapping his hand to his chest.

"You break my heart, Miss Thorne. But I get it, you won't progress with your art if all you hear is a repeated program." Uh oh.

"Which is why I want to give you a special project," he reaches into his desk for a portfolio.

"Is it something aside from the usual work and contest?" I ask, treading carefully.

"No, well, yes," he brings the portfolio out and opens up to a random tab, "I still wish you'd turn in a photo for the contest, but," he flips through a few laminated photographs and worksheets, "I want you to do a separate assignment." He finally stops on a photo of a feminine model with a cigarette.

"What's this?" I finally ask. He turns to face me, a sly grin on his face.

"My assignment for you," he shifts in his seat, "Now, this is my own photograph, the concept: what I believe to be beautiful." I take a closer look, the model seems like they don't really feel bothered with the camera right in front of their face, the cigarette just barely hanging onto their lips.

"You want me to take pictures of smokers?" I ask bluntly. He forces out a chuckle, he's mad.

"No, Miss Thorne, I want you to take pictures of what you believe to be beautiful," he turns back to his photo, "now, you don't have to take one that exactly replicates this, but I do wish it would have a style that you are capable of producing." I stare at him, then at the photo. It sounds easy, but the actual process would be difficult. Especially since this seems to have been staged to his preference. I nod, however, with the urge to leave.

"A'ight, I can get behind it," I glance towards him, "and you said it can be whatever I want?"

"Huh, no," he says quickly, "what you see as beautiful."

"Same difference, right?" I retort, stepping away, "I'll start when I can and show them to you once they're developed." I leave his classroom and he looks about ready to say something, but I already have my headphones blasting music and coming close to the entrances.

In my room, I throw my bag to the floor then climb up to my bed. It's a little higher up since there's a chest of drawers below the mattress. A vanity/ desk is at the foot of the bed. On the opposite wall is a rack of clothes- the closets here are way too small- next to that is a long shelf with books, cd's and DVD's squeezed together. On the second to last shelf is a boom box. Next to my bookshelf is an elongated black mirror and next to that is my regular built in closet.

I stretch my arm under my pillow, reaching for a mesh baggie, taking a look at the "greenery"

"Shit," I curse, pushing it back in, "almost empty." I sit up and search the courtyard through my window. No sign of Justin and the skater stoners. Guess they're in his dorm. I head downstairs to the boys' dorms. His room isn't too hard to find, just look for the one that smells the most and with the loudest rock music. I knock hard with my fist, a thud is heard from the other side and the music gets lower.

"Who's'it?" a slurred voice asks from the other side.

"It's me, Mat!" I yell through the door. There are a few thuds before the sound of the door unlocking. The waft of weed blasting through my face. Jesus Mary Jane. I step in and close the door behind me. Trevor's lying in front of the bed, zonked out. A few of the others have a game on. The window is sealed shut and I walk over to give it a budge.

"At least open the window before you stank up the whole building." They started giggling at my words, Justin taking a seat on his bed. I crossed my arms and stared him down.

"Speaking of which, where'd you get your stash?" He took a moment to reply.

"Same place as usual," he made no eye contact, he was always a bad liar.

"Bullshit," he perked up a little, "we all know that asshole Frank'as been raising the prices of his goods. Even you dumbasses can't afford such a hefty price." He was still avoiding eye contact so I had to lower myself to his eye level to psych him out.

"Whos the go-between?" I ask, nonchalantly. He sighs heavily, looking at me with puppy eyes like he's in trouble.

"I can't tell you, he said he'd rat us out if we did." He only managed to confuse me, I would've thought that it be someone like Hayden hiding the goods. By the sound of it, it sounded like someone powerful. Wait a minute.

"Don't tell me you mean that Prescott kid." He suddenly shushed loudly, the other boys staring at me with terrified eyes.

"Whoa girl, he has eyes and ears everywhere," he whispered, paranoid. I rolled my eyes.

"Well, you still gave me enough info." They looked at each other, gasping at their realization. I strolled out of their room, taking some perfume out and spritzing a bit over me.

It wasn't that I was addicted to weed, it was more like an anxiety after having a small amount left. It's hard to explain why it happens. After a few moments, my eyes wander over to his room. The least he could do is give me a price. A little less confident than before, I walk over to his room and knock. No answer. Try again, a little louder. Still nothing. I sigh and try while asking aloud, "Is anyone in here?" Nothing. Suddenly the entrance doors open up, I start to panic at the thought of one of the teachers coming in. My heart drops as Nathan Prescott turns the corner and immediately freezes, probably taking a double take.

"Who're you?" he asks, getting his keys out. I step aside and try to regain my confidence again.

"I heard you pass out 'grass' to the kids here," I stand at the doorway, not confident enough to step in.

"That's a pretty strong accusation, what's it to ya?" he drops something-guessing his backpack- on the floor.

"It's no accusation, more of a question," I say as he turns back to face me. He squints his eyes a little.

"I remember you," he chuckles, not humorously, "you're the bitch that wrecked my friend's nose." I hold in the urge to roll my eyes.

"Yes, that was me, but whatever, at least it didn't hurt you." Actually, looking at him at this close distance lets me distinguish more of his features. He had bags under his eyes, not very heavy but still visible. Thin, but still dark eyelashes. His eyes were a little lifeless, he must've hit something earlier. He also had quite the gap between his teeth. Mr. Handsome wasn't as much as he led on to believe, but he wasn't so bad-looking. I think he noticed me staring as he shifted a little.

"I'm not here to start anything, just name your price," I stated, he looked a little- dumbfounded? He, however, regained his composure and leaned against the door sill.

"Ar'ight, I give you some weed, what do I get in return?" I looked at him in confusion, the hell did he mean.

"Uh, money?" I say, my eyebrow still arched. He laughs, again, not very humorous, and shaking his head.

"I already got money, you're gonna have to give me something better." He was about to shut the door when I stuffed my foot between the door and frame.

"A'ight. If it's within my capabilities," I sighed a little, and spoke through my teeth, "I'll give you whatever you want." He smiled with glee- and victory. He opened the door a little more and gestured for me to enter. I closed the door behind me, leaving some wiggle room. He then pulled his sofa out, skidding the floor. Behind it was a shoebox full of other shit. Damn, this kid really is loaded. He tossed me one of the bags with the greens. I inspected it before turning to leave.

"Wait!" he said loudly and reached for a sticky note from his desk, scribbled something then stuck it on my forehead.

"So you don't forget." I pulled the note off and read its contents.

I owe Nathan Prescott a favor :P

"Whatever," I rolled my eyes and stuffed it into my pocket, walking out.

In my dorm I stuffed the new supply with the rest, pulling out a small chunk for some use. I stuffed the roll into my purse with my camera and walked out. Taking a quick look at my phone's time, I rushed out.

Surprising to no one, Blackwell isn't the only school in Arcadia, at least not in its surrounding populous. There's a normal high school at the other end of the city, just outside the limits. It's a lot more chill, as it's a public school. I never went there, no Blackwell student has, but I still managed to meet some people from there. After a couple of minutes waiting outside the parking lot, I finally see one of them or more like the only friend left. There was drama with the others, and he's the only one that still remains. His name's Jonathan, but he likes to be called Jo.I honked to get his attention, he had a slow pace that made me press the horn harder.

"Chill, fuck," he says lazily as he enters. I don't start the car immediately, instead, I stare him down until he freaks out.

"What?"

"Put your seatbelt on, dumbass."

"Fine, mom!" he says, trying to get a rise out of me.

"Fine, you can die for all I care." He scoffs. His seatbelt finally clicks and I start my car.

"Where we goin'? Two Whales?"

"Nah, the forest."

Jo was grazing his lips over my neck, his arms wrapped around my waist. I ignored his advances and aimed my camera to a pair of birds perched on a pine above us.

"Your school sounds so easy," he said, letting me go.

"Easy, but boring," I retorted. He only chuckled, walking ahead of me. I snapped the photo before catching up to him.

"Then why don't you take it easy,"

"I would, if my scholarship didn't depend on it." We reached a cliff that went straight into the Pacific waters. I aimed my camera straight below, letting my bare feet show. Without warning, Jo wrapped his arms around me, pushing me forward a little bit, then hauling me over his head.

"Jo!" I scream out in fear. He puts me down on the other side of him, laughing his little ass off.

"What the hell, you know how scary that dive is for me!" I pat my chest as if it'll help my heart slow down. Jo starts stripping, still chuckling over his prank.

"Take a picture of me," he says, closing in on the edge. I get closer to him, moving to his right and kneeling. I aim the camera over the edge and a little below.

"Ready when you are," I say, he backs up a bit, then rushes to leap off and dive. I press the shutter button, almost breaking it. After he's well into the water I peek to examine his condition. Jo's a stoner and a goth, but he's also surprisingly athletic. He gives a loud whoop from below. I laugh, I never get tired of his little trick.

"Bring my shit down!" he yells up to me, I can barely hear him, but I get what he wants. I find a path around that takes me a while to trek. On my way down, I run into two girls. A blue haired and a brunette. They seem familiar so I smile and give a short wave. Only one of them, the brunette, responds. We move on and I hurry as I realize it's been 15 minutes. I rush to Jo's side who's cuddling himself for warmth.

"Where've you been, my ass is freezing down here," he gestures at the tall shadow covering us both. I giggle a little and hand him his clothes. We sit on a couple of rocks, feeling our asses get wet from the rising tide. I look over my shoulder where the Lighthouse looks down on us, I take out my camera and snap a photo. It's not beauty, per se, but it is haunting.

"Got any weed?" Jo asks, I reach for my purse and pull out my premade roll and a lighter. He takes them from my hands and lights the bud.

"You almost out, aren't ya?" I shake my head, looking over the horizon of the ocean where a few scattered boats seem to be circling the area. I snap a photo as they get closer.

"I thought ol' Bowers was cracking down on the kids here?" I nod and turn my head towards him.

"The asshole's gettin' too cocky. He thinks he owns all the junkies in Arcadia," I pout, looking over the pictures of Jo's jump. He leans to look over my shoulder and points to the one he likes most.

"I'll send it to you, but I have to pick a different one for my assignment," I say while I continue to scroll through them. I stop at one where his feet dangle and his arms outstretched. After deleting the rest of those pictures, I return my camera to its safe place.

"Then where di'you get it?" he asked, handing it to me. I took a moment to choose my words carefully. Nathan Prescott hadn't made any warning to me about telling anyone else, but Justin and the boys were still scared of him for one reason or another. Plus, he probably wouldn't like it if a guy from a normie's school was coming over for refills.

"Someone else, a go-between," I decided to say. It was vague enough so that he would only ask a few questions.

"Pft, no wonder Frank thinks he owns the junkies," he turned to me to take the bud, "they're all coming from Blackwell." I nudged at him, while the mood had been light, it soon got heavy.

"Have you visited your dad?" he asked out of the blue. I felt my body go rigid, but I managed to respond

"I haven't seen him in two weeks." He pressed on, handing me back the bud. I needed it more than he did.

"Why?" was all he asked. I turned to him with frustration, a venom in my voice.

"Because I'm waiting on my mom," I think I was trembling. He must've not noticed, cause he still went on.

"You have a license, you can go by yourself," he finally looked at me. There was still quite a bit left of the bud, but I still snuffed it out on the rocks. We stood up in unison and he reached for my keys.

"I'll drive us," he offered. I asked where and he only shrugged his shoulders.

"How 'bout my place?" I nodded in agreement and we headed back up the cliff to where we'd parked. The car ride was uncomfortably quiet, my radio's busted. So I spent the majority of the trip staring out the window, passing the houses and noticing the little changes that were being made for the holidays that are yet to come.

Jo lives alone with his mom, she works the afternoons and overnight at a bar. So we have the house to ourselves for the rest of the night.