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(9/10)
Leon POV
Chapter 25: "How To Be the Main Course of the Plot"
In case you were wondering why the mysterious cosmic force known as Daddy Author has been suspiciously merciful these past few chapters—letting me skate by with only minor chaos, a few exploded criminals, and light romantic tension—I'll have you know that mercy was short-lived.
Apparently, I've completed my so-called "redefining arc." Translation? The training wheels are off. Welcome back to the torture circus of hormones, trauma, chaos, and possible not-blood-related incestuous situationships.
You're here. I'm here. And chaos is stretching like it just woke up from a nap.
Now, you might ask: "Leon, why this long, introspective fourth-wall-breaking paragraph?"
And to that, I respond:
Because I'm currently getting violently kissed against a locker by Mary Jane Watson behind the school.
No, not metaphorically.
Physically. Slammed. Tongues. Chaos.
Her hands were in my hair, one leg popped up like we were starring in a romance drama directed by Quentin Tarantino, and I—poor innocent me—was too shocked to move. Her lips were soft. Aggressive. Commanding. My brain? Lagging on 2% battery.
/System Error: Hormonal Overload/
And the worst part?
My entire soul was frozen, while my body had the audacity to enjoy it.
*2 minutes later*
(Still mid-liplock, unfortunately for my brain cells)
Okay okay okay—hold up. Time out.
I know what this looks like.
Yes, MJ Watson currently has me pinned like some thirst-powered anime heroine who just realized the male lead is secretly a sexy eldritch god.
Yes, her lips are doing acrobatics on mine like she's trying to cast a summoning spell using tongue strokes.
And YES, her fingers are threading through my hair like she's trying to download my trauma directly into her soul. And yes my hands with an unexpected turn of events have found it's way to her buttock.
But before anyone calls this "romantic progression"… please understand: I am NOT mentally present.
I am buffering.
I am lagging! Physically and mentally.
"Mmmph?!"
I tried to say, "Wait—what the hell is going on?!"
What came out was a muffled noise that sounded like a squirrel trapped in a vending machine.
Cue internal monologue voiceover:
"Okay Leon, stay calm. You've tanked Zegler's Snow-white without cringe, death robots from GTA rp, and Aunt Carol's chaotic cooking. You can survive a high school girl's tongue warfare. Maybe."
But no—my knees had the nerve to buckle like I was the damsel in distress.
What is happening to me?!
"Oi! Hey! Get a room!!" someone shouted.
MJ broke the kiss like she just remembered air was a thing. I was left gasping like a fish that just learned taxes existed.
She looked at me, face flushed, hair a bit messy, her eyes fiery with something dangerous.
"That," she said, breathless, "was for ignoring my texts for two days."
Wait—that was the reason!?
Before I could process the logic—or lack thereof—a voice behind us shouted:
"...LEON?!"
I turned my head.
Slow motion. Dramatic zoom.
Gwen.
Holding her science notebook. Jaw on the floor. Emotional damage across her face.
I'm not saying my life flashed before my eyes, but I definitely saw my funeral, and MJ and Gwen were fighting over my casket.
In that moment, I could swear I saw the gates of heaven waiting to accept me with open arms.
Okay. Okay. Okay. I need to escape.
MJ's kiss had my brain on fire. Gwen's shattered soul had just filed a restraining order on my reputation. And I swear I could already hear Felicia Hardy's psychic slut-sense going off somewhere on campus.
I had to vanish. Like my dignity. Like my savings account. Like hope.
"Just focus. Compress space. Fold it like laundry. Spread your sense and pinpoint your drop point. You got this, Leon—just Quantum Flicker away like a badass. Teleport DAMNIT!!!!"
BOOM—BLUE FLASH.
I vanished.
...
And then reappeared.
In a very different kind of warzone.
Tiled floor.
Steam.
The sweet smell of strawberry shampoo.
A single slipper flying across my face like a heat-seeking missile.
"This isn't the science lab..." Color drained from my face.
I WAS IN THE GIRLS' LOCKER ROOM.
I blinked.
Roxy: mid-shirt pull.
Liz: applying lip gloss in a towel.
Felicia: completely naked and holding a razor like a katana.
Plus 10 OTHER GIRLS!!
OH SWEET MOTHER OF MARVEL.
"LEON?!"
"WHY AM I STILL HERE—Flicker flicker flicker!!" I panicked.
But nothing happened.
Why?
BECAUSE TRAUMA BLOCKS SUPERPOWERS, THAT'S WHY.
Felicia cocked her head with a feral grin. "Well well well... if it isn't my favorite little pervert."
"No-no-no-no-no—this wasn't on purpose!" I squeaked, backpedaling toward a locker.
Liz narrowed her eyes. "You better not have seen anything."
"*I didn't even see reality anymore—*that's how terrified I am right now!"
"AAAAAHH!!! It's the LION PERVERT!!!"
As if on cue, a dumb ass blonde chick with tits as flat as a standard brick wall shrieked like her like depends on it.
All hell broke loose.
Towels flying. Hairbrush missiles. Roxy threatening to dunk me in a bucket of conditioner.
Felicia just slow-walks toward me, smirking like a Bond villain in a lingerie ad.
"You sure you wanna run, Bunnyboy?" she purred. "You're already in the lion's den."
(Narrator voice: He was, in fact, not ready for the lion's den. HE IS THE LION!)
**FINAL STRAW—**I Quantum Flickered twice through the locker wall like a ghost having an anxiety attack, tumbling out into the hallway like a wet sock.
And who did I crash into?
Principal Merton.
Yep. Sleep deprived. Furious. Holding a file labeled "Expulsion."
She looked down at me. I looked up at her, still steaming from leftover locker room humidity.
She slowly removed her glasses.
"Boy... are you naked?"
I looked down.
...My pants were in the locker. How is that even possible!?
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(A/n: I swear this chapter reads 1000+ words. It's just that you read too fast.)