#also didi thinking about joining the circus.... gorl u wld hate that sm

[sysba]

cal x edith – two pages (high school verse)

the infinite joys the hs au brought me today especially... they are just two little guys!!! they're so silly and stupid about each other!!! and they are sooo dramatic!!!!! and i wld kill for them <3 anyways this was brought to you by, edith never speaks abt her dyslexia and cal is so cute they have to kiss instead of doing homework. *shrug* i am addicted to writing first kisses in every universe what can i say. pov u are the preppy perfect child of a demanding family with a lot of suffocating expectations on your shoulders and i'm the unloved unwanted eldest daughter of an absent mother, wyd

2.1k words (damn who are u @ me); cal says 'fuck' is that allowed? @night-triumphantt get your son, he's saying bad words and kissing the hot goth girl from school

“I was thinking you could take a look at this part? I’ve already got most of the research done, so we only have to comb through it.” 

Cal doesn't lift his eyes from the papers scattered on the table, a small crease between his brows, the one that appears whenever he’s focused. That’s why he doesn’t notice Edith staring at him instead of what he’s handing her, not until his arm starts to feel heavy. He misreads her expression, though. 

“It’s two pages.” An encouraging smile that is completely wasted on her.

Only two pages. He’d gotten an early start on their project as soon as the teacher paired them together— something about ‘making sure Edith had at least one graded project for the class’ and ‘being a good influence on her’. It had bothered Cal to no end, the way they had talked about her as if she wasn’t even there, but then she’d sneaked a playful smile at him and Cal had stopped worrying about it… he’d stopped thinking altogether, to be honest.

Still, it didn’t seem like she enjoyed this kind of thing, so he had tried to handle most of the work in advance. He was only now starting to think it hadn’t been enough.

Edith finally glances at the papers, only to raise an eyebrow at him. “Or, you could enjoy my two pages while I go get us something to drink.”

“We have coffee, though?”

Two steaming cups sit in front of them, a half-drunk milk tea and an abandoned americano which Edith completely discards as she leans towards Cal and flashes him a toothy smirk (Cal didn’t even know smirks could be toothy).

“Then I can sit here and look pretty. What d'you think?”

He almost splutters. I don’t think that would be much help, he thinks, because with her this close (so close he could see the faint, sparse freckles on her nose if only he dared to look) he can barely breathe, let alone focus on a detailed research project that would earn them a passing grade. He can’t say all that, of course.

“Alright,” he yields, leaning back until there are enough inches between them that he can think again. The pages are a bit crumpled in his hand. “I’ll handle it, don’t worry. You can, uh, you can leave if you have somewhere else to be.”

Of course she would. Cal is self-aware enough to know he makes for very tedious company. It’s surprising enough that Edith already spends this much time with him as it is, but homework doesn’t help his case. He gets it. He gets it, but it still stings, and he can’t look her in the eye as he dismisses her with as much gentleness as he can. 

She snatches the papers from his hands only a second later, and Cal doesn’t know which is more startling— the fact that she actually chose to stay and help, or the odd expression on her face as she grumbles. 

“You’re not supposed to be this easy.”

She’s probably scolding him, he realises, but he can’t help the wide smile that spreads across his face and makes his cheeks ache as he thanks her. 

Edith stares at him for a moment longer, a sun-like warmth in her bones that has definitely nothing to do with how luminous Cal’s smiles are, nothing at all. The sun just watches her back completely unaware. 

Swallowing a sigh, she lowers her head to the page and watches it (for real, this time). It catches her off guard, the wall of ink now in front of her. The words are printed so tiny that they almost seem jumbled into a single page-wide stain that makes Edith’s head throb in pain just looking at it.

“You got stingy with the font size, huh.” Keep your tone light and do not look at him.

“Sorry, I figured fewer pages would make it more motivating,” he chuckles, rubbing his neck a bit sheepishly, and it would be infinitely endearing had the joke not been lost on Edith. 

Cal turns back to his notebook, leaving her to that jet-black nightmare and the burn in her throat as she silently takes a deep breath and starts detangling the words. 

One word at a time, steadily, but fast enough that he doesn’t notice her struggle. She’s not sure how far she’s gotten before the frustration starts making her antsy. 

It’s only because of that that Cal loses focus on his work to glance at her, and frowns at what he sees. The disarray of her expression and the way her lips frantically take the shape of whatever word she's getting stuck on. Edith thinks she’s been still, until Cal calls her and then she freezes entirely. 

“Edith?” 

The unfinished homework gets thrown back on the table with unbridled heat, but the look she gives him is one of cold boredom. The mask is flawless enough to nearly make Cal flinch in surprise.

“This is dreary. Can’t we do something else? Watch a football game, get a lobotomy, anything works.”

Are her eyes glossy? Edith swears to herself that if she starts crying now she’ll leave town and change her name. Maybe she’ll join the circus, or a cruise line.

Cal would miss it all; the light trembling in her right hand when she pushes the papers towards him, or how she angles herself away from him even though she’s the one who sat so their thighs were near touching. He’d miss all of it, had he not been paying excruciating attention to her for the last few months. At any other moment, he might even feel embarrassed about it.

But it clicks for him now, that maybe it’s not getting stuck doing a school project with him that had Edith so on edge, and maybe she had liked that class when she’d first picked it. 

“You can’t read it?” he half-guesses, half-asks, making sure to maintain the distance she put between them.

I can! She almost yells at him for asking. She can, she could read it. It might take her a bit longer than average, but she could read it just fine. Except the text is very dense and Cal is sitting next to her, and waves of panic cross her whenever she thinks about him pitying her. Illogical fear, as all fear is, because he would never think less of her for something like this.

“I can read it,” she sneaks a glance at him, but his expression hasn’t moved from that unnerving patience. “Just, not with you hovering.”

Cal nods twice, and they both pretend she wasn’t lying about him ‘hovering’. 

“Here.” 

Edith blinks in confusion before noticing he’s handing her her own coffee cup. It’s probably lukewarm at best, now, but it feels scalding when she takes it from him out of reflex, fingers brushing together and a faint blush painting Cal’s smiling face…  

“I read and you listen? I’ve been told my reading voice is dull, so you might want to hang onto that.” 

Painstakingly gentle, that tone of his, so much so that Edith can feel some sort of fight-or-flight instinct kicking in her chest. But she finds herself nodding instead.

Whoever called Cal’s voice dull needs to be checked in at the hospital. That’s pretty much the only thing going through Edith’s mind as she listens to him read, the content of his research completely eluding her. He has a nice, deep voice, but the softness of his tone makes it sound lighter. The way breeze would sound on a sunny day, smooth and sweet and kind— Edith vaguely wonders, and not for the first time, if it would taste like honey (if he would taste like honey). 

She’s still dazed to the point where it takes her a moment to notice he’s gone quiet, that familiar dimple on his brow showing up as he pouts slightly. Cute, cute enough to eat.

“This really is hard to read...” Cal’s displeased mumble shakes Edith out of her thoughts, or lack thereof, and she doesn’t miss the fact that whatever he’s saying is entirely for her benefit. She calls him out, or well, intends to, before he smiles at her and at that point she’d rather chew her own tongue than make him stop. “Sorry, I need a break, is that alright?”

‘Is that alright?’ he asks, as if she’s worked hard enough to make her the boss of him. What a liar he is, and not a very good one, but he looks so pretty and he’s so good to her that Edith can only breathe a quick yeah as she leans forward.

Whether it all happens very fast or in slow motion, Cal can’t be sure. He barely feels the pull on the lapel of his blazer as Edith tilts him towards her, but he follows obediently. What was it that she said to him earlier? That he didn’t have to be so easy? He usually keeps her words in such high regard, but right now Cal can’t find it in him to care. Edith’s lips are warm against him and he feels malleable, like she could reshape him if she touched him a bit more, and he’d be enthusiastically compliant as she did. He likes this, likes being easy for her.

She draws back to let him breathe, her hands sliding from his neck to cup his cheeks. Her palms are a bit cold, he only now notices.

“Good break? Or bad break?”

Edith tilts her head to the side as she scrutinizes his every move. Cal doesn’t feel like he can move at all. His nervous system might be fried, after all. He might collapse, he’s not sure, but it’s fine if Edith catches him in her arms.

He swallows down the flurry of thoughts and tries to answer, but he trips on his words.

“You– this is–” How does one speak, again? Cal could swear it was easy a few minutes ago. But that was before and this is now, and now Edith has kissed him and there’s a faint static noise buzzing in his ears.

At least whatever is showing on his face seems to amuse her.

“Should I do that again? Might help clear your mind.” Oh, he chokes at that, and has to watch her expression go from teasing to horrified. “Jesus, Cal, I was joking, relax.”

“No!” He shouts it, or at least he thinks he does (it felt way too loud, especially for someone this quiet) but he has to explain to her that he liked it, he very much liked it, and the only reason why he’s not making any sense right now is that he can only think about kissing her again, “I didn’t mean– You, ah, didn’t do anything wrong!” 

“Sure, okay. Good.” Edith is looking at him as if she’s wondering whether to call an ambulance or just leave him there, and he wants to laugh, mostly in panic.

“You should.”

“What, do something wrong?” She snorts, doubt still pulling at her pretty features, “I think I’ve got that covered.”

“Do it again,” he blurts the words once again, racing to some kind of finish line as he mentally curses his inability to express himself without looking like a fool. Then he realises what he just said and he’s sure he stops breathing altogether. “If you still want to, you don’t have to. You don’t have to do anything. I– fuck!”

“Did you just curse?”

That does it. Even whispered under his breath, the word is so unexpected coming from him, a stark contrast with— well, with everything about him, really; it steals a laugh from Edith, who’s giving him a look that’s two parts lovestruck marvel and one part trying not to mock him to oblivion. 

Cal could die now, but he chooses to kiss Edith again instead. He moves slowly, giving her ample chance to pull back, and his heart does a somersault when he realises she won’t, no, she’ll kiss him back.

Ah.

Edith grins as he leans in, not pulling away but waiting for him to reach her. And when he does, she kisses him for every time she’s wanted to but couldn’t, and for every time she thought he wanted to but wouldn’t. 

Definitely honey.

She only interrupts the kiss because she’s sure Cal won’t even though they’re out of breath, and then she’d have to reanimate him— a waste of time, now that they can kiss all they want. He takes the hint, though, panting against her mouth, their foreheads resting against each other.

“You cursed.”

He did. He’d probably apologise if it were someone else, but he can hear Edith’s smile in her words and can’t bring himself to feel bad about it.

“I’m not good at this.”

Edith hums at the confession. Her thumb is tracing small circles over his pulse.

“I’m not good at school projects.”

It feels less vulnerable, saying it now, with her arms around him. His hand finds hers without missing a beat.

“I’ll help you.”

“Yeah. Me too.”