Waterloo road · Y/n story by @squeaky

The September air was damp and clinging, carrying the smell of wet concrete and diesel fumes from the bus stop. Waterloo Road loomed ahead — all grey brick, cracked windows, and the faint sound of a fire alarm being tested somewhere inside. Students milled around the gates, shouting, laughing, dragging on cigarettes before first bell.

Chlo Grainger

I've got a good feeling about this year.

Donte Charles

snorts You said that last year. And the year before. And the year before that.

Chlo Grainger

Yeah, well. Third time's a charm.

Chlo was already bouncing on her heels, one arm hooked through the strap of her bag, looking at the school like it might actually be worth turning up for. Donte stood beside her, hands shoved in his pockets, doing his best impression of someone who didn't care about anything.

Donte Charles

Anyway. We're not dead yet. That's gotta count for something.

The words landed heavier than he meant them to. For a second, none of them said anything. The noise of the playground filled the silence — a gaggle of year sevens chasing each other, someone's phone blasting music, a teacher calling for quiet that nobody listened to.

Chlo Grainger

glancing at you, quieter You alright?

Donte Charles

Course she's alright. Look at her. Solid as a rock.