#young!billy

Chapter 1:

A New Substitute Teacher

Beverly Town High was anything but ordinary. The school wasn't just any private school—it was THAT school. Where every hallway echoed with the clicks of designer shoes, where last names meant everything, and where money talked louder than grades. The students here were mini-celebrities, some with more followers than the teachers had retirement savings.

But those people are just extras—NPCs. We’re talking about the richest of the rich, the hot one.

Yeah, we're talking about the protagonist, Billy Joe Cobra.

At the age of fifteen, he's already a young hot Rockstar. Global heartthrob. His debut single hit number one and refused to leave for thirty-two consecutive weeks. He had it all—private jets, a yacht, his own mansion, and more fan clubs than the principal Ponzi's wig collections. Posters of his face hung in lockers, his name was on every tongue, oh and his attitude?

Absolutely the worst.

Billy didn’t just act above everyone—he was above everyone. His insults were ruthless, his presence is intimitading, and no one dared to cross him. Not the students. Not the staff. Even the teachers doted on him, pretending not to notice when he skipped class for a full month just because he was bored.

And now, apparently, he was back, Because of the same reason.

Billy yawned, sauntering down the hallway like it was his personal catwalk. His designer jacket shimmered under the fluorescent lights, and every step he took echoed with polished confidence.

" Ugh… same school, same boring day. I should’ve stayed in bed. Or Bali. Or literally anywhere else."

His thoughts interupt with Squeals. Shrieks. That annoying stampede of high-pitched voices that meant one thing:

A hot new face.

“MR. WRIGHT! Can you check my homework?!”

“Me toooo~!”

“Teach me film theory, pleeeease~!”

Billy squinted. Who the hell is “Mr. Wright”?

He peered through the crowd of girls, curious—and mildly disgusted.

At the center of the chaos stood a man. Young. Probably early twenties. Slim build, a plain pale blue button-up rolled to his elbows, skinny black jeans, black tie, red-framed glasses perched on his nose, and thick, fluffy brown hair that looked like it hadn’t met humidity in years. He smiled awkwardly, trying to wave off the crowd. He's obviosly a nerd. He looks like an extra cast from a teacher drama on cable TV. He looked soft. Too soft.

“Girls, girls… one at a time, please,” the man laughed, all sweet and clueless.

Billy frowned.

Ugh. I already hate him.

That voice. Playful, kind, nerdy. It irritated Billy immediately. He pushed through the crowd, arms crossed, resting his full “I'm-the-alpha-here” energy on the poor stranger.

The moment he appeared, the hallway froze.

Then, just like that, the crowd noticed him.

Gasps.

“Billy!!”

“He’s back!!”

“OMG look at his eyeliner today, SLAYYY!”

Billy ignored them all, eyes locked on Mr. New Guy.

“Who are you?” he asked flatly.

The man blinked. “Oh, I—"

Before he could finish, Principal Ponzi appeared like a badly-timed popup ad.

“Ah! There you are, Mr. Wright!”

Principal Ponzi rushed in, grabbing the man by the arm. “We’re late for the staff meeting.”

And poof, they were gone.

Billy blinked confusedly.

“Can someone explain who the heck that was?” he demanded.

A girl beside him giggled. “You missed a lot. While you were skipping, we got a new substitute teacher. He teaches music, film theory, and media studies. Apparently, he’s also, like, a filmmaker or something?”

Another girl swooned. “He’s so passionate~ He said my essay was ‘emotionally honest.’ No one’s ever emotionally noticed me before.”

Billy rolled his eyes.

“Emotionally honest? Please, this guy sounds like a human Hallmark card!"

But whatever. Billy wasn’t impressed.

…He was just mildly interested. Maybe.

A little.

“He’s not permanent though,” another girl added. “Just filling in until geezer… came back.”

Billy frowned with a hm.

The bell rang as the first period began.

The classroom buzzed with whispers and anticipation. Everyone was waiting for the hot new teacher. Girls touched up their makeup. Boys tried to act cooler than usual. And Billy?

Billy Joe Cobra sat in the back with his legs kicked up on the desk.

Then the door opened.

A man stepped in—charming but awkward, his smile a little too soft for this battlefield of spoiled teenagers, this dork wouldn't last long.

Billy narrowed his eyes, unimpressed. “Seriously? This guy? He looks worse than a nerd. What’s the big deal?” He clicked his tongue and slumped lower into his chair, scowling at the window.

The teacher gave a nervous little wave. “Good morning, class! How’s your day? Ahaha…”

The students replied with dramatic woo’s and whistles.

The awkward laugh was followed by a quick scan of the room… and then his eyes landed on the most obvious character.

"Oh, you must be the one who skipped class without any notice," he said with a friendly tone. "Let me introduce myself—I'm Spencer Wright. I’ll be covering art studies until Mr. Friday finishes his recovery. Nice to meet you, uhh…”

“Billy Joe Cobra,” Billy replied dryly, not even glancing his way.

Spencer blinked. “ Billy... what—That’s… not your real name, is it?”

Billy rolled his eyes.

“Well,” Spencer grinned, “nice to meet you anyway, Billy. And let’s try putting our feet down, yeah?”

He clapped his hands once, trying to break the weird silence, and turned to the board. “Alright, let’s start with the basics, shall we?”

Billy should’ve snapped back. Should’ve said something cruel.

But for some reason… He actually lowered his legs.

After the not-so-boring lecture (surprisingly), Spencer actually did a decent job. When the bell rang, students spilled out of the classroom like it was Monday morning rush hour. Spencer zipped up his satchel, mentally listing all the emails he had to reply to—until he caught sight of Billy passing by.

“Billy Joe Cobra?” he called. “Got a sec?”

Billy paused, turning his head lazily. “What now?”

Spencer stepped closer. “You look tired. I mean—more than the usual teen angst kind of tired. Everything alright?” He rested a hand on Billy’s shoulder, only for the boy to brush it off coldly.

Billy squinted at him. “You asking ‘cause you care or ‘cause it’s your job?”

Spencer chuckled. “Bit of both?” He scratched the back of his neck. “I asked the faculty about your absence, but nobody knew what was up. Just wanted to make sure you're okay.” he grins.

“Yet no one actually cared,” Billy replied flatly. “Don’t waste your pity, Teach. And FYI? These aren’t dark circles. They’re eyeliners. Not a cry for help.”

Spencer blinked. “Eyeliner? Oh, wow, yeah—I figured it was a, uh, fashion thing. Kinda edgy. Totally rockstar. Very... expressive?”

Billy raised a brow. “What do you want, exactly?”

“Oh—nothing! I just… never mind. Go enjoy lunch, alright?”

As Spencer turned and walked off, Billy stayed behind, standing in the middle of the empty classroom. His earbuds were in, but there was no music playing—just static silence. He didn’t understand why his chest felt... weird. Unsteady.

No one ever asked him how he was doing. Not really. Not like that. Not without a camera rolling or a PR team hovering behind.

So this feeling? Yeah… it was unusual.

Especially for a rockstar.

As soon as lunch break was over, Billy wandered off to his favorite spot—the music room. A quiet corner of the school no one really bothered with. It was his zone, his hideout, where the noise of fame didn’t reach.

He was supposed to skip today. He’d even lined up a studio session. Told himself school was a waste of time. Useless. Yet, he found himself slipping through the empty hallway like a ghost.

"Why the hell am I even here?" he thought.

He entered the music room alone, settling into the corner with his guitar. The familiar weight grounded him. His fingers started strumming before he could stop them, a melody rising, humming under his breath.

Out of nowhere, Spencer was walking past when he froze—eyes wide. He turned back, peeking through the small glass pane of the door.

Billy Joe Cobra. Playing guitar. Singing. A free mini concert.

His voice was soft, raw, achingly beautiful.

Spencer slowly pushed the door open—only for it to creak... horrifyingly loud. Like, horror-movie-in-the-middle-of-the-night kind of creak.

Billy jumped. “GAH—what the hell?!”

“S-SORRY!” Spencer panicked. “I didn’t mean to interrupt! I mean—I did—but only because—wow. You’re amazing.” he stood up staright with a stupid grin.

Billy rolled his eyes, but this time he smirks a bit “Argh, you’re so annoying.”

Spencer plopped down beside him. “Don’t stop now! I wanna hear more!”

“You’re already ruining my vibe, dude.”

“I’ll be your #1 fan, promise.”

Billy stared at him and he sighed. “Fine. But don’t laugh.”

He strummed again.

This time, with Spencer beside him, nodding along.

“Try hitting a higher note on the chorus,” Spencer said. “Like—make it explode.”

Billy raised a brow with a smirk. “You a producer now?”

He did it anyway. And—

“…Okay, nerd,” Billy muttered. “That actually slapped.”

“Told ya!” Spencer grinned. “I may not be a singer, but I direct things. I could totally shoot your music video someday.”

Then, without warning, he ruffled Billy’s hair. "Good work there, buddy!"

Billy’s brain short-circuited.

He hated being touched. But somehow… this was fine.

“Mr. Wright,” Billy said, eyes locked on him, cheeks slightly flushed. “You... just captured my heart.”

What am i saying?

Spencer blinked. “Is that… metaphorical? Haha, you should add that line to your next song!”

With perfect timing to ruin the moment, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen. “Oh no! I totally forgot! Shoot, I’m super late! Gotta go, kiddo. And hey—don’t skip again, alright? See you tomorrow!”

And just like that, Spencer dashed out, not even remembering to close the door.

Billy sat alone. Guitar in his lap. Sunlight spilling through the window.

His fingers brushed his chest. He tried to ignored it and play the chorus again.

“…Your smile gives me butterflies—” he stopped.

Then the realization hit him like a bass drop. He groaned and stuffed his face into both hands, like that would somehow erase the blush creeping up his neck.

Oh no… I think I like him.

WI-WITH A NERD LIKE HIIIIMMMMMMMM

Tbc