A/N: this one's a high school AU because let's be honest, we love the AU and hate the reality. Also we have a ~jock~ reader!! That's right, y'all play sports now. The dynamic is going to be great, just trust me. This one's going to be more of a drabble than a one shot because I don't exactly have a plot, but I loved the concept so I'll write a tiny thing about it.

"Hello, my dear!" The eccentric teenager beamed at you while you hid your face in your arms, groaning. It was too early for school or for dealing with him, but it had to be done. "How was your lovely little practice this morning?" He asked in a broken English that could have made you cry.

"You are so painfully European." You grumbled in your own terrible Japanese. "It went okay. I'm dead, now leave me alone." If you had known that you'd have to deal with the most dramatic theatre kid on this earth only to get a good foreign sports scholarship, you would have said Fuck That and stayed home.

...no, you wouldn't have.

"Sure thing!" Tsukiyama then settled down besides you, doing the exact opposite of what you had asked him to do. Onlookers shrugged off the scene, as they all knew it went like this every single morning. "And you, trésor, sound painfully western, but you don't see me insulting you for it, now do you?" Of course he had to pull the Mom Card on you. You rolled your eyes and finally lifted your head from your arms.

Once Shuu noticed your careless appearance, a grimace of disgust adorned his face. "Do you hate yourself so much?" He questioned, taking a strand of wet hair between his fingers. "Look at yourself, you didn't even bother to dry your hair! And... did you come here with gym pants?"

You snickered at his outraged state. You knew he had a thing about appearances and reputations, so you always tried to push his limit when it came to yours. It was a little game you liked to call How Far Can I Go Before Shuu Breaks Up With Me Out of Embarrassment? You liked it very much. "For my hair," you swatted his hand away. He didn't fight against you. "At least people will know this way that I did shower after doing sports. And for the outfit, I'm at school to learn and get a diploma, not to make a fashion statement every day like you." You then eyed the blue and red atrocity he wore that almost clashed with his hair and eyes.

"(Y/N)," Tsukiyama sighed. With the tone he held, you could have told him you flunked a major evaluation that would cost you a credit and he would have sounded the same. "Society was nice enough to give us this training environment in which we get to learn how to behave in order to be respected, and you're throwing that learning experience away?" Yes, that came from the guy who wanted to pursue music as a career. And not just any music; instrumental composition. Not even for films! The guy wanted to be the modern Bach. Tsukiyama seemed to be stuck in the 1820's where it was cool to be musically skilled and have expensive clothes, whereas today athletes ruled all, no matter what they looked like or wore. If you were fit, you were good. He apparently missed that point, but Shuu didn't even need that much training. It seemed that musical theatre was good enough for his fast metabolism.

"This 'social drill' that you're hallucinating about is bullshit, Tsukiyama. People don't care as long as you're not a druggie or dealer. And even then, I wouldn't care if people thought things of me. I don't need outsider approvals." Your carelessness seemed to insult him. The face he made had you wondering if you accidentally insulted an ancestor.

"I cannot believe you, (L/N) (Y/N)!" He dramatically placed the back of his hand to his face. "You are a lost cause! How lucky we are that I was generous enough to take care of you during your stay here. Without me, you would be lost, I know it."

"Oi, Shitface, I could suplex you into the ground if I wanted to." You warned.

Your purple haired boyfriend leaned forwards with an almost disturbing grin on his face. "Oh yeah?" He questioned. "I could take your reputation and rake it through the mud."

"I don't give a damn about my reputation." You retorted. The two of you bickered like that until the bell announcing first period rang.

"How do they do it?" A sophomore questioned, watching from afar with his friend. "Those two... they seem to hate each other so much. Yet I heard they were nominated for this year's student royalty, and they were fine with it." Just as he finished, you threw another (true) insult at Tsukiyama. The teenager let out a loud gasp and cried out that you were mean before shooting back an offense of his own.

A girl replied, watching the scene with interest. "A jock and a band kid. It's so weird, but I really like watching them fight like that."

"I know that," the first boy said, still frustrated by the odd dynamic. He still didn't get an answer to his question. "But how?!"