This is so unlike anything I've ever written. For one, it's short. For another, it's... vague? and... repetitive? Well, it's experimental, to put it simply. I'm sorry if it's not what you expect from me, and if it's not that great. It kinda just hit me today that tomorrow is my first day of senior year, and I needed to get all that weird feelings about it out. And this is the result of all that. I hope, despite it being so different, that you enjoy it. There should be some of my more fluffy material out soon, I promise :)

Disclaimer: My owning is limited to JONAS school supplies. and I don't even have that much of that. YET. ;)

Her palms were sweaty. There was no way around it. The constant rubbing against her stiff plaid skirt did little to relieve the clammy, damp feeling that traveled across her fingers and up her arms, sending shivers down her back. Within moments, it was as if she had never wiped her hands off in the first place. Her palms were sweaty.

Her backpack was heavy. It sagged low on one shoulder, the second strap long since abandoned. Loose-leaf paper, new sharpened pencils and freshly decorated binders, zipped away in the many compartments, pulled the bag closer to the ground, and she shifted suddenly, stopping its slow slide down her arm. She hauled it back up over her shoulder, letting out a soft sigh. Her backpack was heavy.

The sky was dark. She never remembered seven in the morning being a time without sun, but here it was. The moon was still faintly visible right over the horizon line, and directly across from it, sudden rays of sunlight winked at her through the clouds. The sight of light brought out a small smile, which promptly fell as the sun ducked back behind the gray clouds. The sky was dark.

The ground was wet. The thunderstorm from the night before had continued into the early morning, leaving behind puddles of all shapes and sizes, a sign of its passing through. Drops still fell from the leaves with even the slightest breeze, and she felt the wet droplet seep into her clean white button-up. The rubber soles of her shoes squeaked as she twisted a toe against the cement sidewalk. The ground was wet.

Her hair was freshly curled. Stella insisted on it, and if Stella had to wake up at 5 in the morning to do it for her, she sure as hell would. It was still unclear as to who it benefited more, her or the squealing self-taught stylist. She couldn't care less if her hair was slightly out of place, but her morning makeovers seemed to always give Stella a rush that carried throughout the day. She swallowed, tucking a brunette strand behind her ear. Her hair was freshly curled.

The parking lot was busy. If she could have pulled her focus from the front door for even just a second or two, she would have realized that. However, she couldn't. There could have been a four car pile-up out in the student lot, and she would have had no clue. The constant chatter of the student body had been tuned out completely, and she seemed to absorb each shove and bump that she received, remaining perfectly still and perfectly silent. Her total ignorance of the going-ons around her was potentially startling. The parking lot was busy.

The clock moved at its regular speed. At least, she assumed it did. Could have fooled her, though. There was no way she had only been standing there for three and a half minutes. She felt as if her feet had been glued into their place on the front sidewalk hours ago. But she knew she couldn't change time. The clock moved at its regular speed.

She wasn't nervous. No, nervous wasn't the right word. Anxious? Possibly. Apprehensive? Yeah, that was a good one. But it's not that she was nervous for the first day of eleventh grade. She'd grown up at Horace Mantis. There were no nerves involved. It was simply the weight of it all. But, no. She wasn't nervous.

His hand was warm. It slid into hers effortlessly, and when she looked up, her trace broken, and her eyes met his shining browns, a real smile finally broke out. A vocal greeting was unnecessary; the eldest band member's soft squeeze gave her all the reassurance that she needed. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, and muttered a few words. She nodded, a quick one or two word response all that was needed, and he smiled, tugging her along a bit. His hand was warm.

Her palms were sweaty. But it was okay now. Because the feeling of his hand encompassing hers pushed any clammy, shivery thoughts straight out of her mind and pulled her right through the front doors of Horace Mantis.

Crazy, huh? Totally unexpected. Not like my usual writing at all. I'm broadening my horizons ;) I do hope you enjoyed what you read! And the pairing was KevinMacy, though I'm sure you got that. And I think I put it in the summary. So yeah. Just... reiterating it. haha. Reviews would be much appreciated :)