My Stuyvesant Love Life (Gender Neutral Reader)

Chapter 1: Double Trouble

A figure sits alone in the cafeteria, sneakily texting on their illegal internet enabled device under the chipped, circular tables that scatter the open room like stars on a clear night. Y/N looks around the room discreetly, trying to see if any of the lunch aids are prowling around unsuspecting students. Y/N’s legs shake with excitement as their fingers tremble with every text:

Friend: AAAAAHHHHHHHH! How is stuy going? I MISS YOUUUU >:( 

You: OkaY oKay! Calm down. 

Friend: I CAN’T CALM DOWN. ur the only person at our middle school to get into stuy!!!! 

u gotta spill everything 

You: shut up omg. Can I live? Can I live?

Friend: Nah :P 

ya gotta tell me how stuy’s going. ya found any cuties?

You: u know that I’m trying to focus on me studies. I got no time for this bs smh.

Friend: Ok… like u aren’t in math team, speech, sci oly, robotics, and psal track?????

I guess someone who has everything can still be jealous about not having a guy loser /lh 

You: WOW. As if. ok I gotta go before a teacher sees me texting. OK BYE LOSER

“Ugh…” you think to yourself. You’re only three months into freshman year, and you regret ever coming to Stuyvesant. You have no time to meet up with your old friends, study for test after test (it seems like the teachers coordinate everything together for indefinite pain), and spend most of your time alone. You came into Stuyvesant wanting to focus on your studies, true, but never expected to willingly outcast yourself because of how insufferable your classmates are. You feel like those bullied people you see on your Korean dramas, lonely and avoided like the plague. Even after eavesdropping on many people’s conversations in your classes, you can’t find even one student who shares the same interests as you: watching Rent-A-Girlfriend, streaming Hazbin Hotel, or thirsting at the guys during gym. 

As you continue sulking about your life at Stuyvesant, the warning bell sings loudly, making you groan as you dig your hands into your face. Your phone finds its way into a pocket in your backpack, ringing once more to indicate your friend’s text message. You stand up, pick up the unnecessarily heavy backpack you sat on, and haul the straps onto your back. 

Surrounding you is the sound of about 60 to 70 students leaving the cafeteria. You stare at them: the different friend groups that appear to have lasted since elementary school; the new couples that swing their intertwined hands while the boyfriends shoot dirty looks at one another; and the seniors that seem five seconds away from having a heart attack from their mixtures of Celcius, Monster, and strawberry matcha drinks.

You decide to use the Hudson staircase in the back of the room, wanting to avoid as many people as possible. As you open the door, you hear the soft footsteps of someone coming upstairs from below, the strumming of a guitar of someone sitting at the fourth floor, and the soft breathing of a person sleeping in front of you. “Jeez…” you think as you quickly cover your mouth to not let out a chuckle, staring at the Victorian child’s state, their mouth wide open as their back contorts in a concerning arch. You put on the hood of your Science Olympiad hoodie that was stained with the chocolate milk you spilt on yourself accidentally a few minutes ago, hoping to cover your face that was blemished with heavy underbags and was spoiled with emerging forehead pimples scattered sporadically.

Your legs feel like molten lava is being poured onto your calves as you walk up the slate gray stairs, looking down at the ground to see a black hair tie with brown hair entangled with it and a crumpled-up temporary student ID. You mentally slapped yourself for wearing long, black socks and gray sweatpants, feeling queasy from the sweat that dribbled down. You continue walking up the stairs, each step making your new sneakers squeak slightly. All you want to do is go to the library during your free period. Why must Stuyvesant torture you with its steep staircases, half-functioning escalators, and long hallways? 

You hear the chattering of other freshmen in the halls, the large masses (that are not lined up in front of the classrooms) blocking your path towards the library. You shimmy yourself against the huge waves of students that push against you like how molecules move during reverse osmosis. Unfortunately, you trip some of your fellow freshmen on the way while being preoccupied with your daydream. Welp. You gotta be strong to survive this school, you think to yourself. 

As the hallways continue to become less crowded, the situation resembling a population bottleneck, you successfully get onto the line for the library. You fumble inside the pocket of your hoodie, pulling out your mostly intact student ID. As you step out of line for a split second, trying to see how many are in front of you, a student bumps into your right shoulder, making the two of you fall onto the cold, marbled floor. 

“Watch where the hell you’re going, idiot!” You look up, softly wincing as your heavy backpack makes you fall backwards with a heavy force of about 10,000 N. Simultaneously, you hear multiple, thick textbooks drop to the ground, its fall causing the floor to rumble beneath you. You look up to see a shorter guy who is wearing his obnoxiously bright, sky blue Math Team hoodie. He wears a blue-colored surgical mask, the strings wrapped around his ears tightly. The guy also wears glasses, the black bridge resting on top of his nose. His black hair is cut short, with his bangs dangling like curtains in front of his dark orbs. He seems to be like a pomeranian: a short ball of resent and cynicism. 

“I’m sorry…” you manage to mutter.

Note

Hi readers! I am currently on a hiatus and will not continue this fanfic. Sorry. :(

I’ll try to update you guys but I’m in the hospital after getting run over by a car.

But, I do have plenty of other fanfics that you guys can go read. :D 

However, if enough people like or comment, I might consider writing more chapters soon…