Love/Hate (Lemon GarouxReader 🍋)

Prologue - The Wrong Foot

Hi all my lovely readers! So this story got taken down for some reason and I'm reposting it again. Who knows, maybe it will get taken down again? So just letting you know, it will always be available here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23853907/chapters/57330592 

Thank you for reading and all your support!

A new school year, a new school. Just like the four previous years. A tradition, you might say. But this is the last time. You've made sure of that.
How interesting it will be to spend your three high school years in one place! Your optimism grows, buoying your spirits and you can't help smiling as you rush into the front office of your new educational institution, almost forgetting that you missed the first day (through no fault of your own).
You skid to a halt at the reception window, catching your breath, a few minutes after the bell.
"I'm...'Your Name'," you pant to the very unimpressed, purse-lipped receptionist. But even the icy roll of her eyes can't bring you down right now. "I was...told...to come...here...first...?"
Her lips purse impossibly tighter for a moment as she points a sharp finger in the direction behind you and goes back to her computer screen, dismissing you and making a mental note to order more make-up remover. You'll definitely be back here. Your name and face have been noted.
You turn around. The girl on a couch straight from the deep 70s looks up at you from her bright nail file and manicured nails as she pops a bright pink gum bubble. You stare back. You see the multitude of piercings decorating her ears, she sees your little nose piercing. You admire her perfect jet black wing, and she admires your smoky kohl. She stands up and, what d'you know, she's sporting the exact same risqué length of skirt as you are. Her impeccable high ponytail adds at least two inches to her height. You run your hand through your own loose hair streaming down one shoulder, smoothing it down after your hurried arrival.
"I'm Tsukiko," she grins at you, mischief already growing in her bright eyes.
"I'm 'Your Name'," you grin back, bringing even more mischief to the table.
It's bffs at first sight.

"So, we're in class 1-3," she says as the two of you walk down the hall.
You listen attentively as your eyes travel over your new surroundings. The school is small, old but well-kept. Tidy.
"Our homeroom teacher is Mr. Yukimura. He's alright," Tsukiko continues, trying to fill you in on as much as she can before you get to your new home for the next three years. "Most of us went to the middle school next door so we kind of all know each other. It's a gift and a curse. There are a couple of other new kids in class 1-2, I think. It's pretty chill around here so you shouldn't really have any trouble. Especially not when you're with me," she gives you a wink and then you step foot into class 1-3.

To your pleasant surprise, your presence causes no particular reaction in the class. (You've had some less than friendly welcomes in the past.) Some look up and smile or give a small wave before going back to chatting with their friends or to their notebooks, others don't even register the new addition to the roll.
"Ah, so you must be 'Your Name'," Mr. Yukimura looks up from his magazine as Tsukiko and you make your way through the room.
"Sorry about missing the first day," you say, a little embarrassed.
"Yeah kid...about that. You missed the tests so you'll have to stay after school today and tomorrow to do them," he informs you before going back to his magazine. "And you weren't the only one," he grumbles.
From your extensive experience of schools around the country you know exactly the kind of teacher Mr. Yukimura is. He was once idealistic, fun, his whole future ahead of him. He had a passion for history, his subject, and had that magic mix of education and entertainment. He could hold any class in the palm of his hand. But something, at some point started to go wrong. Perhaps he was passed over for promotion one too many times or perhaps his personal life began to self-destruct. But whatever it was, it had left Mr. Yukimura a tired, world-weary and sarcastic version of himself. He was handsome once, and this still showed, but his face was now covered in stubble, faint lines around his eyes, and you could picture him perfectly with a cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth. Mr. Yukimura paid lip-service to the rules but you could see he wouldn't exactly be enforcing them strictly any time soon, not with his own tie undone and slung limply around his neck like that.
Tsukiko is about to show you to your seat when he looks up again.
"You gotta take out that nose thing," he nods at you.
"Alright," you say, carefully removing your favourite little jewel, knowing you're going to put it back in as soon as homeroom is over.
"And oi," he glares at your new friend. "Didn't I confiscate about twenty-three of those things from you yesterday?" he waves a pen at Tsukiko, in the general vicinity of her head.
"I don't know. Did you?" she shrugs like this is the first time she's heard of this and proceeds past his desk, her countless earrings gleaming in the morning sun. Little does he know he could confiscate 203 if he wanted and it wouldn't make a difference. Her collection is endless.
"Bloody kids," you hear him mutter under his breath and reflexively pat his shirt pocket for the cigarette box he usually keeps there outside school hours as you make your way .