Natsu was a smart cookie, despite sucking at lying. Being in a room where the only familiar face was his band mate, everyone else didn’t really matter or appeal to him to get to know. It was intimidating being one of the youngest, if not the youngest, in the class so naturally he decided to skip class. However, his dumbass while walking in the hall to get to his locker to go home, got caught by a teacher on the way. What the kid could have said was he was going to the bathroom, or he forgot his homework in his locker, or that he wasn’t feeling well and was on his way to the nurse. What did his dumbass actually say? ‘I don’t feel like going to class.’
Of course, that ended with him being forced to attend class and on top of that he was told to go to the counselor’s, as well. If only he could keep his big mouth shut or be a little slyer, like a certain idiot vocalist he knew. Now, after sitting his ass through a boring lesson, he got all his stuff and was practically escorted by a teacher to the counselor’s. So much for trying to skip on the counselor afterwards. Though, that didn’t stop him from taking his sweet time placing each notebook into his bag carefully with all his little pencils and erasers, then of course he couldn’t forget his drumsticks, which he would never let a teacher take from him even if they threatened him.
The scruffy teen couldn’t help but think of some prison videogame while he walked down the halls, the teacher his jailer while he was the prisoner. As he stepped in front of the gates to the final boss, his nerdy metaphor for standing in front of the counselor’s office he sighed, bidding for the teacher to go away, now that he was escorted promptly. Not like he could escape at this point. After the teacher finally left, after god knows how long of small back and forth bickering of teacher and student, Natsu took a timid but rhythmic knock at the door. Knock, knock-knock, Knock. Knock. Knock-knock.
Without waiting for an answer, he opened the door quickly, “Hello..?” Without looking at the counselor first, he took a look around the office. Ugh, he hated how plain and office-like places in the school looked. Finally focusing his attention on wherever he could find the counselor, “I’m here for whatever the teacher was complaining about me going to. Counseling or whatever.” His tone sounded unenthused and if anything, his slumped body confirmed it more. He didn’t like one-on-one confrontations with people, so it was no wonder that he was already tapping his foot away to the beat of one of his favorite songs. “This won’t take long, will it?”