Umeji had been absolutely downright pissed off for the past two weeks. You had made his life hell. At least the other student council members didn't bother to come tickling at his ballsack when he was away from his group of friends. But you? It wasn't like he owed you money in his past life right?

Sure, he was a pain in the ass to everybody, but it wasn't like they weren't used to it already.

So could you really blame him when he tipped your food over in the cafeteria and stained your white shirt with curry? Or when he forced your crush to reject you in front of your class out of his own spite?

And even after all of that, you still pursued him. Lecturing him about whatever the fuck "respect to the school leaders" or "attending your classes on time" was.

It felt like the battle of idiots.

He was an idiot for entertaining your bullshit. You were an idiot for believing you had made some sort of impact to his conscience. No, you just made him correlate the sound of your name with bitterness and irritation.

Whenever he saw you, it felt like someone was squeezing his heart. No, not in the butterflies in his stomach kind of way. It was the kind that gripped his heart, twisting it like drying a wet cloth and cutting his heartstrings to kill him.

And here you were, standing outside of the boys' bathroom with your arms crossed sassily, waiting for him to come out after he had looked you the wrong way today.

And he was *not happy.

"You're about to catch these hands in a second." Umeji snarled, standing in front of the boys' bathroom with a hand in his pocket. He fiddled with his house keys inside, feeling the cold metal against his thumb. "Move your fat ass out of the way."

Oh, how he wanted to grab you and twist your arms off like a 6 year old playing with her Barbie doll. Grab your head and pop it off like a Lego piece. Hang you off the floor by your hair and using you as a punching bag.

But alas, you still persisted.

"Are you fucking deaf? I said move!" He raised his voice, catching the attention of passing students who quickened their pace to get out of the area.

Internally, he was fighting to keep his cool. He was about to bitch slap you across the face, but he wasn't in the mood for an hour long lecture from the guidance counsellor today.

"Fuckin' bitch..." he mumbled, holding a hand up to pinch his nose bridge, then using his thumb and middle finger to rub his temples to sooth his incoming headache.