#it's good to know that despite the school sucking and the principal being a pile of shit

[chaoswillcalmusdown]

not only did i go to an after work yesterday....... the whole thing was my idea. i booked the table and everything.

so many adult points, socialising with people i barely even like. for like 6 hours after a whole day of work ??

[beomglocks]

unlikely allies ; txt x reader

part: zero, ,,,next chapter

plot: when a zombie apocalypse breaks out in your town, you're forced to team up with a group of boys from very different social standards in your school.

genre: fluff, angst, horror i guess?, not really that scary but alright, some funny moments

w/c: 3.3K

warnings: blood, gruesome scenes (kind of really detailed), cursing, everyone hates each other, definitely some major injuries, zombies duh, everyone kinda pining for mc

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"yeonjun you're late...again," your history teacher sighs. you watch as choi yeonjun strolls into class like normal. "sorry teach, i didn't really wanna come."

yeonjun is the school's heartthrob. everyone likes him, at least you think everyone likes him. you wouldn't say you like him but you can see why people would. he's an asshole but a cute asshole. he really doesn't care for his studies and treats people like they owe him something.

you roll your eyes at his answer and decide to focus on the roll call for when your name is called. "choi soobin?" you see a boy with purple hair raise his hand silently. you hear yeonjun snicker from the back of the class. you watch soobin turn around to glare at the other.

"something funny choi?" he seethes. yeonjun raises an eyebrow at soobin, leaning forward in his seat, "yeah something sure is funny."

soobin gets out of his seat and strides up to yeonjun's seat, easily towering over the boy. he grabs the collar of yeonjun's hoodie and lifts him up so that he's standing face to face.

"why don't you laugh in my face then?" soobin challenges. yeonjun looks bored, not even the slightest intimidated by the taller boy.

"ha. ha .ha." he annunciates each word mockingly, smiling in soobin's face.

the next thing you know the two boys are the floor fighting one another. "hey hey hey!" your teacher runs from the front of the class to the back to break up the fight. there's already a small crowd around them and no one seems adamant on helping break the fight up.

the thing is, choi soobin and choi yeonjun are known to fight a lot. you're not sure why they hate each other so much but every time they're near each other fists start flying. who thought putting these two in a class together was a good idea.

soobin was a quiet boy, everyone knew that. somedays he'd come dressed like the fluffiest cat you'd ever seen and sometimes he'd dress like a total greaser. he could just switch up like that; just like his attitude. he was nice, from what you knew he would always participate in extracurricular activities and charity events around the school. however, because people thought he was soft they would always mess with him. he was always able to hold his own though.

"hey break it up!" you hear your teacher shout. the two boys were in their own minds continuously throwing punches at each other. you were still sat at your desk, not really caring for fights between two stupid alpha males.

your teacher somehow manages to pull soobin from yeonjun and hold him back while a friend of yeonjun's holds him back as well. both boys have a good amount of blood on their faces so you can't really tell who won.

"you're fucking weak soobs! that shit barely hurt," yeonjun teases. he has blood trailing down his hairline from when soobin pushed him to the ground and blood on his nose and around his pouty lips. "bold talk for someone who just got their ass beat," soobin spits. he too has blood on his nose and lips but he's also sporting a cut on his cheekbone, yeonjun must've scratched his face.

"enough! yeonjun go to the nurse's room to get fixed up and soobin straight to the principal's office, you'll go to nurse after he's done, you hear me!" your history teacher orders. you watch her look around the room for someone suitable enough to escort yeonjun to the nurse's office.

you silently pray that she doesn't pick on you but seeing as you were the only one not interested in the drama, her eyes fall on you. "y/n please escort yeonjun to the nurse's office, i frankly don't trust him to actually go there on his own."

you curse at her in your mind but stand up anyways. "no problem," you force a light smile.

you and yeonjun leave the class ahead of soobin. as you're walking down the hallway, you glance at yeonjun. he doesn't look angry, if anything he looks calm. "i know i'm hot but stop staring at me," he looks down at you.

you roll your eyes at him. "do you not talk? come to think of it... i didn't even know you were in my class," yeonjun looks at you quizically but with curiosity in his eyes. you know that if you don't answer him he'll keep pestering you. "we've been in the same class for the past four years," you mutter.

you can feel his eyes on you but thankfully he doesn't say anything. while you two are walking through the halls you see a boy on the floor playing with something. "what's that kid doing over there?" yeonjun asks. he's already starting to walk away from you but you grab his sweater.

"sorry yeonjun but our only destination is the nurse's office," you say to him. he looks at you with his eyes narrowed down at where you're grabbing him. you stumble back as he yanks his arm away from your grasp, striding towards the boy. you huff following him.

"hey loser, what you got there?" yeonjun looks down at the boy. the boy turns around with confusion laced on his features. he sighs, "what do you want?" he pouts.

when you reach the boy you recognize him as choi beomgyu. the kid is smart but only when he wants to be. he's in your science class and is always messing around and not actually ever doing the work. either that or he skips class to run off and experiment with random things. he's a nice guy and you sometimes ask him for help during labs since he's probably the smartest kid in your class.

"hey beomgyu, what's up?" you greet him. he turns towards you and smiles warmly. "hey y/n," yeonjun looks between the both of you and rolls his eyes. "what the hell are you doing with one of the baseball teams bats?"

beomgyu moves the bat behind him and glares at yeonjun, "i was just curious as to what makes it so hard-hitting. i've been craving my way into it but can't seem to get too far."

you crouch next to him, "maybe you should've picked up one of the metal ones. i'm pretty sure the wood ones only have wood in them. though i heard they're made with bamboo so," you shrug. beomgyu stares at you silently.

"y-yeah you're probably right...thanks y/n," beomgyu snaps out of his daze and pockets the butterfly knife he was previously using. yeonjun tsks, "cmon y/n, let's go i already lost interest." yeonjun pulls you along as you watch beomgyu wave and head to the auditorium.

"god why did we have to take the long route this is fucking boring," yeonjun complains. you sigh, hoping he'll shut up already. "do you ever not talk?" you ask him. you both are too busy glaring at each other that you don't see when someone bumps into you.

the person drops the pile of books they were holding in their hands. "ah shit," they mumble. you snap out of glaring at yeonjun to see a boy on the floor with books scattered around him. "shit im sorry! i should've been looking at where i was going," you apologize kneeling down to help the boy pick up his books.

"oh don't worry i shouldn't have taken up carrying so many books to the point where i couldn't see!" the boy's voice is so cheerful it makes you smile. you're glad he's not mad at you.

the boy is really cute too. his boyish features suit his face well and his hair is messy but looks like he stylized it that way. he's dressed comfortably in a huge sweater and baggy jeans with a molang keychain attached to one of the belt loops.

"where are you even going with all these books?" you ask. "i offered to take these back to the library for my english teacher, in hindsight i really should've just taken two or three not the whole stack." he chuckles sheepishly. he gets up, picking up as many as he can.

you pick up the rest and set them on top of the already tall stack lightly. "well good luck," you pat the stack in encouragement and it makes him lean forward a bit. he thanks you and makes his way down the hall once again.

you turn to yeonjun who was leaning against the wall watching you. "seeing you being nice to everyone is making me want to choke," he grimaces. "take notes choi."

it felt like forever since you arrived at the nurse's office. walking with yeonjun was really torture to you since he wouldn't shut up about how amazing he thinks he is.

once you walk in you both notice that the nurse isn't at her usual place at the front desk. "she went out to get more ice from the cafeteria," you hear someone speak. you both turn around and see a boy sat on one of the cots the nurse sets up for people who injure themselves.

the boy is kang taehyun, member of the baseball team. "hey tae!" yeonjun greets. taehyun raises his brow and moves the now melted ice bag from his wrist. "what's got you in here?" yeonjun asks sitting on the cot across from taehyun.

"i'd rather you not act like we're friends," taehyun states calmly. "but if you must know, i was practicing my swings and got a little too caught up. i barely noticed that i sprained my wrist." he looks down at his wrist which is slightly swollen.

kang taehyun was the baseball team's most prized possession. they really did cherish him because he was the ace of the team. he always scored home runs and when he was pitching, he always managed to get the batter to strike out. he was really talented no one could deny that. despite his hard work on the field, he was dedicated to his studies and was always at the top of all his classes. you wondered how he felt about spraining possibly the most important part of his body.

"damn, that must suck," yeonjun states, he doesn't sound apologetic at all and you wonder how that guy could have any friends. "im just here to get patched and cleaned up because that dickhead soobin decided this was fight club," he tsks. taehyun chuckles, "hope he knocked some sense into you." yeonjun rolls his eyes.

taehyun finally notices your presence by the front desk and motions you over to them by the cots. he's friendly but not someone you'd normally hang out with. "you don't look hurt?" he chides. you point to yeonjun, "i was asked to bring him here since our teacher didn't trust him to come here and well, actually arrive. since the nurse isn't here im guessing I'll have to stick around in case he tries to escape."

taehyun chuckles, "makes sense."

the room is quiet for a couple of moments, save for the ticking of the clock on the wall. you feel awkward being around two of the biggest names at your school. yeonjun is sprawled out on the cot and taehyun is still cradling his wrist. "uh...when do you think the nurse will be here?" you ask quietly.

taehyun looks up at you, "well when you got here it had been about 15 minutes since she left. she probably took a detour or something?" you nod looking at his wrist once again. "you should probably wrap that in a gauze, it'll help with the swelling," you suggest. he smiles at you, "thanks...uh?"

"y/n"

"right thanks y/n," he stands up and walks over to the cabinet to find the gauze wrap. in the meantime, you turn to yeonjun. it looks like he's sleeping but being in a class with him for 4 years has taught you better. "yeonjun."

he doesn't move. "yeonjun get up, i know you're not sleeping," you try. he sits up with a groan, "what do you want? i barely know you." for some reason you feel rage bubble up inside of you. you're not sure why either. usually, you were fine with not being noticed by the "so-called" popular kids but because of yeonjun, you were stuck in the nurse's office watching over him like a babysitter.

"why the hell did you fight soobin? if it wasn't for you i wouldn't be here talking to you right now," you say through gritted teeth. yeonjun raises an accusing brow at you, "were you not watching the fight? he threw the first punch for fucks sake." "you provoked him," you retort.

"it's not my fault he's dumb, god do i have to take responsibility for that too?" he groans laying back down on the cot. you eye him but decide to leave the conversation at that.

after your mini argument with yeonjun, you see taehyun return with the gauzes already wrapped around his wrist. "this is much better," he smiles down at his wrist. "glad i could help," you smile at him.

silence falls upon you three again until you hear a groan from outside. it doesn't really sound like a groan a human could possibly make, it sounds way to pained and low. "what was that?" taehyun asks. you shrug, "it might be the nurse." you walk over to the door and take a look outside.

the hallways on both sides are dimly lit and desolate. you can't really see down the hall because it just fades to black. you walk back inside the nurse's office. "there's no one out there and honestly, it looks way too cree-," you're cut off as a shrill scream rips through your conversation.

yeonjun sits straight up this time, "what the hell was that?" taehyun's eyes are wide with alarm, "that scream did not sound like a happy scream."

your eyes dart back and forth from yeonjun to taehyun. "i swear when i looked outside there was nothing," you say hurriedly. you're not sure why you feel panicked but you do. "check again," yeonjun tells you. you want to tell him 'no' or 'do it yourself' but you were the one to check first so you figure a second check done by you is only fair.

sighing, you walk to the door once again and look into the halls. for the second time, you don't see anything except for the darkness of the long hallways but you peer further and notice something.

all the way near the end of the hallway you see the nurse running towards her office. "hey i see the nurse," you call out to the boys. they make noises of acknowledgment and you hear yeonjun mumble a 'finally'. you keep watching her but you notice that she's running quite frantically to be considered normal. you don't say anything watching her run towards the office with confusion laced on your face.

that's when you see it. you see a figure running almost at the same speed as her but with more of a limp in their step. that's when you can hear the groaning more clearly but it's not coming from the nurse, its coming from the figure behind her.

the nurse makes the fatal mistake of tripping over her heels because she's running so wildly. her body slides a couple of feet from the door but she struggles to stand. she looks up at you and you can see that she has sweat and blood all over her face and her hair is unruly and matted.

"h-help me please!" she calls out to you. your heart is beating intensely. you don't know why she looks like this but you want to help. "y/n?" you hear taehyun call out to you. "what's going on out there?"

you bite your lip and decide to help her but as soon as you step out of the office the limping figure lurches forward and pounces on the nurse's idle body on the floor. you let out a horrified scream and step back. you can see the 'limping figure' clearer now and it seems to be one of the lunch ladies.

the only thing was that she didn't look the way she did when she served you breakfast this morning. her skin was pale and her veins were strangely very visible throughout her face and arms. her uniform was tattered and ripped as if a struggle of some sort had taken place. her face had deep scratches that had drying blood pouring out of them. her eyes were not warm, they seemed to be greyed out and she seemed very rabid.

you stood there, horrified, as the lunch lady tore through the nurse's clothes and body. you wanted to throw up as a bit of the nurse's blood was unintentionally launched at you. the lunch lady dipped her head down to use her teeth to devour the nurse's flesh in cold blood. you couldn't even rack up a sob.

it was like something out of a horror movie. except this was real life.

before the lunch lady could even finish eating the nurse, you watched as the nurse's body convulsed and thrashed violently before standing up on her own. her head was hung low and she seriously smelled disgusting.

you felt stuck as you watched both women stumble towards you before breaking out in full sprints. you flinched and shut your eyes tightly as you waited for your life to flash before them. it really felt like at any moment you would find yourself being eaten alive and convulsing into whatever monster that was.

but the feeling never came. instead, you felt your body crash against taehyun's on the floor. the only thing you could hear was the door slam shut and the screeching and groaning of whatever the hell those people were outside as they tried to get through the door.

you opened your eyes slowly and noticed that yeonjun was to one to slam the door shut, it seems like taehyun had pulled you inside.

taehyun groaned, moving to stand, "what the hell was that?" you shook your head, now having time to process what you saw. "she ate her...s-she- her body," you couldn't even finish explaining as you broke out in tears. taehyun ran a soothing hand up and down your back.

yeonjun moved away from the door. there was a tiny window on the door so you guys could see that the monsters were still trying to get in. "what the hell are we gonna do! if we go outside they'll tear us to shreds!" yeonjun too had tears streaming down his face. you have to admit you'd never seen him so vulnerable.

taehyun was the only one not crying. you could see tears in his wide eyes but they never fell. you figured he was trying to be the strong stable one in the group right now. "ok guys lets calm down. we don't know if we're the only people alive so we need to be careful." taehyun explains.

you do really feel bad for him right now. you know he's a year younger than you and yeonjun and him having to be the 'leader' at this moment must be tough.

he sighs looking at the both of you. "if we wanna make it out of here alive...we're gonna have to fight."

[jokertrap-ran]

(时空中的绘旅人—For All Time—) 司岚 SR 「欧洲纪行」 Clarence SR [Journey to Europe] Painting Story Translation: Of the Stonehenge and the Acropolis

*For All Time Master-list / Clarence’s Personal Master-list *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Card is from the [Ruins & Civilizations] series. *Yes, Clarence speaks really good English...

“Telling a story of a distant place.”

From England to Europe, he's just like a walking encyclopedia. But it's Clarence, so I suppose perfection is the norm; right?

Three weeks later, I got my Visa and started my journey to Ancient Civilization.

First, I'll fly to Europe.

The first stop will be the prehistoric site of the United Kingdom.

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Regret didn't truly strike until I reached Stonehenge, and it did. Hard.

Being part of a TV Program wasn’t any sort of holiday at all; the work schedule starts the very moment we take off, and there wasn’t much time to rest either.

Starting last afternoon, we'd taken a plane to the airport in London, Heathrow, flying through the large part of the night; and then followed up with a bus ride to Wiltshire before we could even regain our bearings.

I felt a little dizzy and faint just gazing upon this large pile of rocks under the scorching rays of the sun…

▷Choice: Jet-lag sucks…

Despite having fallen asleep on the plane here, the jet lag still made me rather uncomfortable…

▷Choice: Long-distance flights suck…

The air was too stagnant for my taste, given that it was a long-distance flight. Plus, the economy-class seats were way too narrow. Hence, I didn’t sleep well at night...

Thinking about it now, Emerald had truly taken care of me well during all of my previous trips abroad. He’d buy me a flight ticket under the business-class, and even reserve plenty of time before the actual trip itself, enough so that I could recover from the jet lag.

I read the lines of the script that was to be recorded for the TV filming in a dead tone.

MC: Stonehenge is a renowned prehistoric monument made of bluestones in Europe. It was built between 4000~2000 BC, spanning an area of around 11 square meters…

Thankfully, my main job was painting. If I had to memorize this entire script, I'm afraid I'd fall asleep way before any of these words stuck to my brain…

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With that in mind, I snuck a glance over at Clarence, who was preparing to be on camera.

I heard that he'd come to Europe once during high school as an exchange student, and that his English capabilities were exceptional.

Hence, that was why he was in charge of explaining the whole story of the Ancient European Civilization.

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He listened intently to the Director's instructions, smiling as he stepped before the lens.

Clarence held an information booklet as he started delving into the explanation in front of Stonehenge.

What happened was truly something out of the realms of my expectations. Clarence had started with a paragraph of English narration.

Clarence: What can it be？

Clarence: The place was all doors and pillars, some connected above by continuous architraves.

Clarence: It is Stonehenge! Older than the centuries; older than the d'Urbervilles.

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Clarence: In one of Britain's masterpieces, "Tess of the d'Urbervilles", this was the final destination of the runaway, Tess.

Clarence: The farmer girl Tess, who believed in god, laid to sleep peacefully atop the remains of the Altar built by the Druids.

Clarence: It is so solemn and lonely— after my great happiness with nothing but the sky above my face.

Clarence: It is at the very end of life, that all prayers, regrets, and pain comes to an end. Tess laid atop the Altar built by the Druids with only the sky above her head.

Clarence: That's right. This is the place where Tess had laid to sleep, entering a peaceful slumber. The people of ancient times had built their Altar here more than 2000 BC ago.

Clarence: As time passed, people started believing in the other gods and speaking other languages. Yet, the story of the vast sky that hung overhead and the towering rocks, are something that has been passed down from generation to generation...

Using "Tess of the d'Urbervilles" as an intro, Clarence delved into the main explanation of Stonehenge.

He subtly turned the topic back around, explaining the significance of Stonehenge in the histories of both architecture and astronomy alike.

He walked into the center of the stone monument as he spoke, explaining the principal axis of the pillars that made the Stonehenge. And about how the old path would fall in line with the morning sun of the summer solstice.

Meanwhile, the other two pillars paint in the direction of where the sun sets during the winter solstice.

Clarence's explanations were simple and easy to understand. It was intriguing enough that even I got enthralled by it despite how sleepy I initially felt.

Director: Amazing! Truly amazing! Your speech is way better than the script, Clarence!

Director: St. Shelter's University really did find a competent and suitable person for the job!

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I finally got the chance to talk to Clarence upon returning to the hotel in the afternoon.

He told me that he liked this whole plan about the Ancient Civilizations because he was once an exchange student here in Europe; hence, his familiarity with the European Ruins. He said that these ruins had managed to witness human civilization; and that this world only became much more interesting due to the footprints that humans leave behind.

——This view of his was similarly shared by Emerald himself.

Clarence: I was actually the one who suggested the next site to the Director and his team.

I glanced at the plane ticket.

MC: Athens, Greece…? Are we going to see the Acropolis?

▷Choice: Athens is where the European Civilization originated from!

MC: The European Civilization originated from Greek. And I heard that the Acropolis of Athens is a marvelous historical place to behold.

▷Choice: I once saw a show called “Saint X”...

MC: I once saw a show where all the Saints of X lived within a sanctuary, which happened to be the Acropolis.

MC: So, I think that the Acropolis should be a marvelous relic of history!

Clarence smiled wordlessly.

Clarence: You'll know once you get there.

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After a day’s rest, we flew off towards Athens, Greece.

We then took a ferry from Piraeus Port to Rhode Island.

MC: I can’t believe that the Acropolis isn’t the historical relic of Greece… Fine. I should have known. I mean, you were smiling! But you never did reply to me...

MC: Still, how strange. What other historical remains are there on Rhode Island that are more valuable than the Acropolis itself?

Clarence: The Acropolis is indeed the largest ruin in Greece. However, I personally doubt that the ruins of civilization need to be shown through such grandeur.

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I was absolutely dumbfounded when Clarence walked right back to Rhode Island’s Port.

There was nothing else here… Other than the ordinary port and Castle erected by the later generations.

Clarence took one glance at the script before turning back up to face the cameras while explaining.

Clarence: This is Rhode Island. Standing here now, I can only see the peaceful harbor and the buildings built by the later generations.

Clarence: In 282 BC, a bronze statue of Helios, the Greek God of the Sun, was erected here. However, the statue was destroyed by an earthquake a mere 56 years later.

Clarence: Though it lasted for only a short period, it was still long enough for it to be recognized by Antipater, a traveler of the old, as one of the “Seven Wonders of the World” 

Clarence explained about "Rhode Island's Sun God Statue". Based on his description, it was a colossal statue that towered at the height of 33 meters. It was made entirely out of bronze. The torch in its hand acted as a lighthouse, and its two feet, each on one end of the shore, served as the Port’s entryway.

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Based on Clarence’s descriptions of the place, I let my thoughts wander, bringing me to Ancient Europe. The grand statue seemingly reappeared before my eyes.

I raised my head to look at the statue. It stood between the blue sky and the sea, the torch in its hand blazing furiously, lighting the way for any passing ships and directing them towards the harbor...

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Clarence: After the fateful earthquake, the ruins of what remained of the God of the Sun laid there in silence for another thousand years.

Clarence: After that, Rhode Island was conquered by the Arabs, and the remains of the statue smuggled to Syria. The site of glory that was once behold became no more.

Clarence: Mankind creates miracles, yet destroys them all the same.

Clarence: We create prosperity alongside the development of Civilization, yet at the same time, we destroy what’s beautiful and well in light of our greed and desire.

I now know why he’d suggested Rhode Island instead for the filming location for the “European Civilization”.

The Acropolis was the origin of European Civilization.

However, the statue of the God of the Sun in Rhode Island tells us all, that no matter what Civilization it may be, it can all just be as easily erased by the hands of the very humans who built it.

[starrybethany]

Matthew Tkachuk . 1 . Outrunning Karma

Word count: 3K

Song: Outrunning Karma by Alec Benjamin

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e4vD2S5vQMM

Today marks one month since I began working at this school. One month of teaching at a public school for the first time- one month of dealing with some of the best and worst kids I have ever met or taught.

“... but let me tell you guys, no matter what your previous English teachers might have told you, colors don’t always have to have symbolism. It could just be the author wanting you to visualize the object or situation more,” I explain, leaning back on my desk.

Despite this being a required sophomore English class, all of the kids look engaged and interested in the material. I’m not one to brag, but some of my previous students have told me that I’m the best teacher they’ve ever had because I talk and create activities that peak the students interest so that they want to learn the lesson.

I never tell them it’s because I spend hours scrolling through Pinterest, considering if each student would like each activity.

The bell rings signaling the end of the day and I glance over at the clock in surprise. Sometimes I get so wrapped up in whatever I’m teaching I don’t even notice the time passing me by. “Okay, well have a good night, everyone! There’s no homework tonight.”

I watch them leave the classroom, getting up to sit behind my desk and grade some homework and exercises I made the students do. I’m reading one of the essays about the book they read over the summer when the sound of heels clicking on the floor make me look up.

Anna Turner and I met in college. We had the same major, secondary education, but different minors because she teaches math and I teach English. When she found out that I was quitting my job at the all-girls Catholic school I used to teach at- for reasons I’d rather forget about- she begged me to apply at the public high school that she teaches at. As you can see, I got the job and decided to take it.

“How’s it going?” She asks, leaning over my desk.

“Good. I don’t have any students that have a grade lower than a C.” I do a fist pump in the air and she laughs at my antics.

“That’s good. So, Mr. Wright wants you in his office right now,” she tells me.

My eyes widen in surprise. At my last school, whenever you got called to the office you knew something bad was going to happen. I was only there once and for the reason that I was called in there for, I quit.

“Did I do something wrong?” I question.

“No, no you didn’t,” she reassures me. “Just go.”

So I follow her orders, making my way through the hallways with “hellos” to my students on my way to the small office at the back of the school. I knock on the door before opening it, immediately thrown off by the dim lighting in the usually well-lit office.

I’m startled by the sight of someone who is not Principal Wright behind his desk. Instead, it’s an attractive man who appears to be my age or maybe even younger. It’s obvious that his borderline-blonde-borderline-brown hair is naturally curly but he has it cut into a way that he can control it.

His eyes are a gentle mix of blue and green- it’s hard to tell what it actually is. His mouth parts, revealing a gap in between his top two front teeth which makes me swoon at the boyish vibe that he gives off.

When a smirk covers his face I snap out of my daydream about our seven kids, realizing that I’m probably drooling all over the floor at how hot this guy is.

“Oh, sorry, um, I’m supposed to be meeting with Principal Wright,” I stutter through, cursing myself for the lack of confidence.

“No, you’re not.”

My eyebrows furrow in confusion and nervousness rushes through me, both because of the confusion this situation is bringing and the fact that such a good-looking guy is staring at me right now. “I’m sorry?”

“Come sit down, Y/N.”

I’m immediately thrown off by the fact that this guy knows my name. How does he know me yet I don’t know him?

“Um, I’d rather not,” I deny as politely as I can, taking a step back. My back touches something and I freeze, my blood running cold. I turn around slowly to find a tall, looming man behind me. He smiles at me but it’s obvious by the gesture that I need to do whatever this stranger is telling me.

So I turn around, ignoring the fact that the smirk on this stranger’s face has grown, and reluctantly sit in one of the arm chairs in front of Mr. Wright’s desk. Or this guy’s desk, who knows anymore?

“How was class today?” He inquires.

I give him an odd expression, unsure of his intentions. I don’t know him and the fact that I’m pressured to talk to him in such a weird setting makes me unsettled. It’s also weird that he would pressure me into talking to him just to ask me about the students. That can’t be the only thing that he wants to know from this conversation, but I don’t know what else he wants to know.

“Good,” I answer simply, not positive of what to say or how much to give away.

“So, let me introduce myself. My name is Matthew, this school and I have a deal and since you’re going to stick around for a while, it’s time to inform you of, uh, what’s going on,” he begins. I grow more and more anxious with every word. “We provide protection to this school, since you know it’s not in the safest area of the city, and in return the school allows us to use the facilities and resources for our, um, how do I say this, activities.”

I raise my eyebrows in question to the ‘activities’ part but quickly shove them back down. By the way that he phrases it, the situation isn’t anything good, none the less legal, so it’s best to know as little as possible.

But really, the school allows this to occur on campus? With kids around? What if the kids see someone getting murdered or using cocaine, will the school pay for their therapy bills or can it afford court bills if they get taken to court?

“Now that you’re a part of the crew-”But I’m not-”You might have to do some things in order to keep your protection.”

From the way he says it, I know it’s not just protection from muggers or rapists on the outside. Now, it includes him and whatever gang or mafia or mob he’s a part of.

“Like what?” I find myself asking.

He grins at me, showing me that gap again. This time, it doesn’t make me swoon. Instead it makes my heart beat ten times faster. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, sweetheart.”

He stares at me and I stare back at him. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what he wants me to say. I’m afraid to say anything in fear of saying the wrong thing- one wrong thing and I could get my head blown off. And I know if I open my mouth I just might start crying.

“Any questions?”

I shake my head silently.

“Okay. We’ll call you when you’re needed then. Or maybe stop by your apartment, depending on the time,” he responds, playing with one of Principal Wright’s pens. “Milan, show her out.”

The big man from earlier guides me back into the hallway all the while I can feel Matthew’s eyes on me. I take deep breaths to steady my breathing and it’s like I’m just going through the motions, packing up my stuff and driving back to my apartment.

My apartment. They know where I live. And I bet if I packed up and moved, they would figure out my address then, too. The mafia never lets you go once it gets its hold on you.

Troy: FaceTime?

I’ve never rejected a FaceTime call from my boyfriend. These days, those calls are too far and few between and I miss him more than I can put into words. It’s only been a year since he was transferred to Toronto but comparing that one year that he’s been away to the two and a half years that he’s been by my side, I can easily pick which one I prefer more.

Y/N: Not feeling well tonight, sorry.

I make my dinner, ignoring my phone vibrating beside me with an incoming text. I check it as I begin to eat.

Troy: What’s wrong?

I don’t respond to his text. It’s not like I can tell him the truth, that the mafia owns my work and threatened me. He would tell me to go to the police but it’s not that easy, Matthew probably has tons of people in his pocket, including the ones whose job it is to enforce the law.

I clean up my dinner, sitting down at the kitchen counter to grade an exercise I made the students write about an interesting thing they found out about their home city of Calgary.

The city of Calgary is run by a mafia called the ‘Calgary Flames.’ They’ve been around since 1972 and have had several leaders over the years, previously Mark Giordano and currently Matthew Tkachuk. You can recognize a mafia member by a tattoo all of the members have to get, which is a C with flames shooting out from it on the inside of their left ankle. They are famous for crimes like drug trafficking, money laundering, corruption of public officials, murder, and kidnapping just to name a few.

It feels like all of the air has been sucked out of me. This can’t be about the same person I met earlier, right? Sure, they share the same name and that Matthew does seem to be a part of something sketchy, but that’s just a coincidence. The Matthew that I’ve met and that I’ll have to be interacting with for who knows how long can’t be a part of something so- so vile.

I can’t imagine anyone doing any of those things listed. Those are all horrendous crimes and to do those around kids would make those people awful human beings. Well, there’s only one way I can tell if this is the same Matthew or not.

I need to see his ankle.

~

It’s a while before I see him again. The next time I see him I’m scanning through the pile of copies in my hands, frustrated by the fact that the copy machine didn’t staple the papers automatically once again.

“Hey Ms. Y/LN, was there any homework for the weekend?” The familiar voice of one of my students asks.

I lift my head to make eye contact, my blood running cold and I freeze in my place as my eyes meet Matthew’s. He’s standing next to Tanner, a student in my eighth hour, who asked the question, and it’s clear that he interrupted a conversation he was having with the older man to ask the question.

I know Matthew does business here but I didn’t expect him to actually communicate with the students. That seems like a boundary that he would know better than to cross, but I guess if he’s in the mafia he doesn’t know any boundaries.

“Um, I just wanted you guys to read chapters eight and nine of your novels for Monday,” I answer, crossing my arms protectively over my chest.

I watch the blonde’s eyes flicker down to watch the movement.

“Okay. See you Monday.” The sophomore shuts the locker, giving a lazy wave to the mafia leader before heading down the hall.

It’s like I’m stuck in place. I know I should move, I know I should avoid as much contact with Matthew as possible, but for some reason my feet won’t listen to my brain’s screaming.

He nods at me in greeting. “How are you doing today, Y/N?”

“Good,” I shift on my feet. I know I have to confirm whether he’s actually a mafia leader or not. If he’s not, he’s just some shady guy doing shady business at my place of work. If he is- well, I don’t even want to think about that.

The plan formulates in my head and I go to move forward, purposefully tripping over my feet and landing on the floor with a ‘thud’, all of the papers in my arms scattering throughout the hallway.

Just as I expected, as any person with an inch of compassion in their heart would do, he bends down on the ground to help me pick up the papers. I watch carefully as I pick up the sheets, eyes connected to his left ankle.

And there it is.

The student described it well in the writing, but it’s much more intricate and detailed up close. It’s a nice design, I’ll give him that, but knowing the terrifying meaning behind the symbol sends shivers up my spine.

All of my fears and worries are confirmed. The city’s mafia leader is standing in front of me, reaching out and expecting me to take his hand so he can lift me off of the ground. He wants me to touch his hands- hands he’s probably used to kill people with before.

He’s talking to me but it feels like I’m underwater. I can’t hear what he’s saying, all I can listen to is the thud of my heart and the static that my brain is creating with trying to think of a logical thought or reaction to this situation.

“Y/N?”

My body turns on it’s fight-or-flight instinct, and as I usually do, I decide to listen to the flight part. I take the papers out of his hand, being careful to not touch him, and mumble a, “Gotta go.”

I take off down the hall before he can react, reaching my classroom and practically slamming the door shut behind me.

Breathe, think.

“What happened to you?” Someone inquires.

My eyes snap up from the tile floor to see Anna sitting at a student desk. I know it’s not fair, but I can’t help but blame her. She’s probably known about the mafia’s involvement here all along and yet, she told me to get a job here. And she’s the one who sent me down to the office to meet Matthew.

I’ve been avoiding her for the past week, always making sure that I’m talking to a student or too busy to chat with her whenever I see her. I feel disrespected and hurt that she would put me in a situation like this.

I thought we were better friends than that.

I narrow my eyes at her, knowing that if I say anything it won’t be that nice.

She sighs. It takes everything in me to not sock her in the mouth because of that sigh.

“Listen, Y/N, I know you’ve met Matt now and-””How could you ever do this to me?” I snap, interrupting her.

“It’s deeper than you think-””Of course it is, he’s in the fucking mafia, Anna!” I can’t help but yell. “I want you out. I want you out of my classroom and out of my life.”

I can see the hurt burn in her eyes at my words but I no longer care. If she doesn’t care about me enough that she’s willing to risk my safety and well-being, I don’t want to continue a relationship with her.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do.” I yank the door open for effect. “Get out. Now.”

She drags her feet as she leaves, like she thinks that I’ll end up changing my mind and suddenly decide that what she did was okay. I won’t.

~

“Hey,” Troy greets me as I answer his FaceTime call.

“Hi. I miss you,” I grin sadly, wanting nothing more than to be in my loving boyfriend’s arms right now. Having a long distance relationship is one of the hardest things that I’ve ever done.

“I miss you too. I wish we could’ve FaceTimed the other day,” he states, bringing up the fact that I left him on read when all he wanted to do was talk to me.

I sigh. “I wasn’t in the mood, Troy. And I’m not in the mood to talk about it today, either.”

He nods. “I can respect that. So… day…?”

My eyebrows furrow in confusion. Even though we are separated by three thousand miles and are in two completely different provinces, our calls usually have great connection with problems only if it’s raining outside. And judging from the clear skies in both of our backgrounds, that’s not a problem.

“What? Sorry the connection cut out,” I respond, deciding that it must be the wifi or something.

“I said… your…”

“Ask it again,” I request.

“How… today?”

I bite my lip out of frustration. After the rough day that I’ve had today and the unknown that’s coming tomorrow, poor connection when I’m just trying to rant and catch up with my boyfriend is the last thing that I want.

“The connection is just not working, Troy, I can’t hear you,” I admit.

“... not… fault!” His voice raises and the screen freezes, one frame replacing the other every couple of seconds.

“I don’t know why you’re yelling now.”

“Because…” The sound completely cuts out. Exhaustion hits me, from finding out that Matthew is in the mafia, to yelling at Anna, to getting into this argument with Troy. All I want to do is sleep and become refreshed for tomorrow.

“Troy, I’m getting tired, I’m going to head off to bed. Hopefully this connection will be better tomorrow.” I hang up the phone before he can say anything, knowing that I won’t be able to hear it anyways.

I know one thing. And that’s that I’m not ready for what’s coming tomorrow.

[yallreddieforthis]

My Summer From Hell: A Tale of Friendship

Fandom: It (2017)

Pairing: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier (minor mentions of Richie’s crush on Eddie)

Rating: T (for language)

Words: 2.9k

Movie canon-compliant.  Also posted on AO3. This is that summer experience essay Richie warned us about.

“Richie Tozier?”

Richie takes a reluctant break from the sick-ass game of MASH: The Wonder Years Edition he’s playing by himself in his algebra notebook to look up at his teacher, who is waving a blue note and glaring expectantly at him.

Blue note. That means Neil wants to see him. Damn, only five days into the school year! New—actually, not a new record. Richie feels like he and the principal should be on a first-name basis by now; Richie’s in his office a lot. He rarely gets punished because most of the things he does toe the line of punishable offenses magnificently—he usually just gets told to stop doing whatever it is he’s doing and then gets sent back to class. If he was down there getting detention every other day, he’d understand what the problem was. But alas, Neil shot down the suggestion of being called Neil right away. So they can only be on a first-name basis in Richie’s head. Too bad.

The Math and Science building is as far away from the Administration building as you can get without leaving Derry Junior High, and Richie takes his time during the walk to Neil’s office, stopping outside the computer lab until Eddie catches sight of him through the window. He makes a gesture that causes Eddie to give him a surreptitious middle finger, hidden from his teacher by the monitor, but his cheeks also bloom cherry red, so Richie counts it as a win because it’s the cutest goddamn thing he’s seen all day. It feels like every other day now Richie’s being hit in the face with how adorable Eddie really is. He’s torn between wanting to pinch his cheeks and kiss him on the mouth, and frankly he’s mostly still straddling the fence on that issue only because he doesn’t want to deal with the answer.

In contrast to having a pretty good idea deep down what direction things are headed in regarding his general feelings about Eddie, Richie has not the slightest clue why he’s being called to the principal’s office the Friday after school started. None of the things he’s done should have been discovered yet. It makes no sense.

Bill is in the computer lab too, and Richie can’t see him from where he’s sitting, so he heads over to the staircase at the end of the hall. Pausing to make sure no teachers are lurking around to give him shit for it, he sits down at the top of the railing and slides down. Actually, he slides about a fourth of the way down before falling off and sort of rolling the rest of the way, but no one saw that so it still counts as a success.

He walks past the yard to watch Stan and Ben running the mile in P.E. Stan is fucking booking it, and Richie dawdles long enough to figure out that he’s a lap ahead of everyone else. Running away from Bowers for a few years will do that to ya. Well, at least it will if you’re Stan. Richie still can’t run an 8 minute mile, so his P.E. grade has stagnated at a B-.

Richie stops in the middle of the hallway in the Language Arts Building, glancing into Mr. Tremblay’s French 1 class. Bev was planning on taking that this year, and she’d be in there if she hadn’t moved to Portland. Sometimes—and Richie hates thinking about this because there’s no use in dwelling on it—but sometimes he really wants to kick himself for not getting to know her sooner. She’s the best bro he’s ever had that’s a girl, and it just really sucks ass that they only got to hang out for like one summer.

Before he even realizes it, he’s walking into the front office. Bertha glances up at Richie through her horn-rimmed reading glasses.

“Mr. Tozier! What’d you do this time?” she asks brightly. Ah, Bertha. She and Richie have a rapport. Richie might go so far as to say she even likes him, at least a little. He’s made her laugh at least seven times, and once in sixth grade she told him he had a real gift after he showed her his best Rick Moranis impression. She doesn't bullshit him, and he doesn’t bullshit her. Well, not very much at least.

“I have no idea,” he tells her honestly, resting his elbows on her desk, which is decorated with a rubber band ball, a Hoberman sphere, several pictures of her nieces and nephews, and the biggest Hershey’s Kiss Richie has ever seen in his entire life. Seriously, it’s almost as big as his goddamn face. Apparently, she got it on a trip to New York, and she’s had it at least as long as Richie has known her. He has never wanted to eat a thing so badly in his entire life, regardless of how old it is. It’s a fucking Hershey’s Kiss. Do those things even go bad? Either way, it’s Richie’s number one goal to take a big fucking bite out of that thing before he culminates at the end of the year. He’s a thousand percent sure it will taste like sweet victory.

“Neil?” Bertha calls over her shoulder. “Did you send for Richie Tozier?”

Neil’s voice floats back through the open door behind Bertha. “Oh, yes. Thanks, send him on back.”

Neil’s desk always starts the year looking pristine, and by the last day of school it is filled with stacks of pure chaos. Richie admires him for trying again at the beginning of each year. It’s like how his mom buys him a binder for each class and book covers and sets up an organizational system for his homework and notes despite knowing that it won’t last a month. It’s nice of her to try, but Richie is pretty sure they both go into it with the understanding that it’s kind of a hail Mary situation.

So right now Neil’s just got like three pictures of his wife, a snowglobe with GREETINGS FROM ST. PAUL written on the base, and a manageable-looking stack of papers in file folders. Godspeed, sir.

“Mr. Tozier,” Neil says by way of greeting, “please have a seat.”

“How was your summer, Ne—Principal McCormack?” Richie asks, plopping down into the chair directly opposite Neil.

Neil’s eyebrows raise. “Not as interesting as yours, based on what I heard from Ms. Pfarrer this afternoon,” he says, reaching into his desk and pulling out two pieces of lined paper stapled together. “Care to explain?”

He places it directly in front of Richie. Richie peers at it. The top right corner reads: Richie Tozier, English 8A, Period 4, September 3, 1989. It wasn’t stapled when he handed it in, he’d just sort of folded the corners over together and hoped for the best, but Ms. Pfarrer must have gone ahead and stapled it for him.

“That would be yesterday’s English homework.”

“Correct,” says Neil. “I want you to read this entire essay out loud to me, and then I’m going to ask you some questions. Okay?”

Richie’s not sure if the questions are about the contents of the essay, or if Neil just can’t read his handwriting. Then again, that sounds like a Ms. Pfarrer problem; he’s not sure why she’d bring it to the principal if she just couldn’t read it. Normally she just hands it back to him and tells him to rewrite it when that happens, or at least that’s what she did last year. If his teachers have suddenly decided to send him to the principal every time he turns in an illegible assignment, it’s going to be a very long year.

But whatever.

  My Summer From Hell: A Tale of Friendship

  If you had asked me at the end of last year what the worst thing about my summer would probably be, I would have bet a hundred bucks it was going to be the trip I took down to Augusta to see my grandma two weeks ago, which sucked. All we did was watch Matlock all week and she made me get a really shi bad haircut, just like last year. It’s going to take me months to grow it out. But compared to what went down in July and the beginning of August, eating soup at Grandma Dottie’s house was NOTHING.

You know how kids just disappear off the face of the earth all the time here in Derry? If you didn’t, that’s a fun fact from me to you that I learned from my new friend Ben (he’s in your 5th period class). Well, while we were looking for my other friend Bill’s missing brother, we found out where they all went.

Underneath our feet, down in the sewers, there lives a killer clown. That’s right, you heard it here first. Like John Wayne Gacy, but 100000x worse because it’s for sure not human. Sometimes It’s a clown, sometimes not. Depends. On what? I have no idea. It was usually a clown when I saw it but one time it started turning into maybe a werewolf. It can turn into anything it wants and it eats kids.

Anyway, It almost killed all of us on the fourth of July. We Bill decided to go try and fight It at the creepy ass house on Neibolt street, and that was an absolute shit show disaster. Ask Ben to show you the sick scar on his stomach if you don’t believe me. Eddie fell through a giant hole in the floor and broke his arm. I got mad at Bill for bringing us all there and he punched me in the face, and then I didn’t talk to him for a month.

Then It dragged Beverly Marsh into its nasty sewer lair and we all went down the grossest well in Derry to get her back. Henry Bowers followed us because he just has to ruin everything, even things that are already the worst. There’s this giant cistern that has a huge pile of broken toys and crap and the clown lives in there. There were hundreds of dead kids floating in the air.

It’s a long story but I beat the shit crap out of It with a baseball bat and we fought it back. We swore to each other that we’d all come to fight It again if it returns. Anyway, the moral of this summer is that you can achieve anything if you work together and also that there is no way Henry Bowers could have caused an explosion during the 1800’s. I want to see him go to jail for taking a dump in my backpack for sure, and I guess for killing Belch, Vic and his dad too, but I know for a fact that he didn’t kill Georgie Denbrough or Betty Ripsom or Ed Corcoran. This town is just cursed.

  Richie looks up brightly at Neil when he finishes reading. Neil takes a deep breath and rubs his temples with his fingers.

“I’m not sure you understood what the assignment was, Richie,” he says. “This is an inventive—and deeply disturbing—story, but this was supposed to be about what you actually did over the summer, not—”

“Yeah,” says Richie. “It is. I mean, I didn’t think Ms. Pfarrer was going to actually read them all. But—”

“This was a nonfiction assignment though.”

Neil’s being real slow on the uptake. Maybe his brain is still on summer break.

“Yeah,” says Richie, nodding. “As in, this is what actually happened to me. Here’s where we swore we’d come back and fight again when we’re old. If It comes back.” Richie holds out his left hand so Neil can see the freshly healed scar.

“Ouch,” Neil winces. “How did you get that?”

Richie rolls his eyes. “I cut it on glass. On purpose. Go get the others—they’ll tell you. Eddie Kaspbrak, Stanley Uris, Bill Den—”

“Please stop with the games,” says Neil. “Just—I’ve had a long week. We all have. Ms. Pfarrer wanted me to look into sending you to the school psychologist. I know you like to, you know, do what you do, but this is taking it too far.”

“Why would I lie to you about this?” Richie asks. He puts both elbows on the desk and leans forward. “Seriously. Why?”

“Attention-seeking behavior is common after the kind of trauma we’ve all experienced over the past year,” Neil says. Super patient, like he’s quoting a textbook and speaking to a preschooler. “I know what happened with Henry was a surprise to—”

“Wait, wait wait,” Richie interrupts. “You think I wrote this to get attention?”

Neil sighs and throws up his hands. “I can’t think of any other reason. If there is one, I’d love for you to give me some insight.”

Honestly? How fucking dare he. It strikes Richie in that moment how goddamn unfair this is. They had to do this with everyone—from explaining those nasty bites on Stan’s face to Eddie being grounded for the rest of the summer, to knowing exactly why there were so many more bodies in the sewer than missing kids from this past year and no one believing them…

“How about this for insight? ” Richie says. “I’ve been through too much trauma this year to come up with another bullshit story that all you adults will eat up. None of you care what actually happened; you just want me to tell you something that means you don’t have to do anything about it. Well, you’re gonna have to come up with your own lie to tell yourself. I’m not doing it for you.”

Neil is gaping. But Richie keeps going.

“I thought it was Bowers before this summer and honestly, I wish I’d been right. And it’s not like I’m sorry that he’s getting all this shit pinned on him even though he didn’t do it. My life is a million times easier without him around—he can get strung up by his ballsack for all I care.”

“Richie, there’s a mountain of evidence against—”

“I don’t give a shit about evidence,” says Richie. “I know what I saw. I know what happened. I know, and Bill knows, and Stan knows, and Bev… What do you care though? You’ll probably be dead anyway by the time It comes back.”

“Is that supposed to be some kind of threat?” Principal McCormack asks. His face has gone hard and stony like Richie’s never seen before; like Richie has crossed a real line this time. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows there’s going to be nasty consequences for this, but he can’t find it in himself to give a shit.

“You wouldn’t believe me even if it was,” Richie mutters. “Just… Fuck it. Send me to the school shrink or whatever. Give me detention; flunk my essay. None of this shit matters anyway.”

“You can bet you’re getting all three of those things,” says Principal McCormack with a mirthless chuckle. “And I’m not sure what’s gotten into you this year, but I feel like—”

“Do I sound like the grownups in Charlie Brown when I talk?” Richie demands. “Seriously, am I making like, actual words to you? Or are you just hearing wah wah wah when I—”

“I’m calling your parents,” Principal McCormack says over him. “Is something going on at home?”

Richie feels blood pounding through his veins. Like it could melt his skin. He looks Principal McCormack dead in the eye, reaches for his essay and tears it to shreds, standing slowly.

“In the end,” he says, his voice shaking and frustrated tears threatening to overpower him, “it’s not going to make any difference if you don’t believe me. We’ll come back, all of us. Me and Eddie. Ben, Beverly, Mike. Bill. Stan. What you think doesn’t change that.”

And as suddenly as it came, the anger evaporates. Just...poof. Gone. It clears, and there’s fucking gobsmacked Principal McCormack sitting there like a lump, staring at Richie. Maybe he heard the individual words, but one thing Richie know for sure: he still doesn’t get it. And he never will. And not just him; Ms. Pfarrer. Even Bertha, whether she thinks Richie is gifted or not. And his parents…

There’s a sick loneliness that kind of creeps in to fill up where his anger was, colder than a January wind. Every time his dad comforted him as a kid, when he’d check under the bed and in the closet for monsters, was a lie. When his mom told him he’d be safe sleeping in their bed. That nothing was coming to get him. That they’d never let him get hurt. Lies, all of it. And it’s not like the adults in his life are lying to him on accident. The truth is right there in front of their stupid fucking faces and they just refuse to look at it.

The chill settles into a stony sort of resolution. Richie has stared the truth in the face and didn’t flinch. Even getting suspended is fucking nothing compared to… Whatever. He’s getting detention anyway. Might as well make it memorable. He turns on his heel and walks out of the office.

“If you’re still alive in 2016,” Richie calls over his shoulder, “I’ll hit you up at your nursing home and let you know I was right all along.”

[dansphlevels]

enemies to friends to lovers?

Jackets

Summary: Phil Lester, bad boy who wears the same leather jacket to school every day and makes a hobby out of scaring people. Dan Howell, future valedictorian who prefers a varsity jacket, and refuses to be shaken by anyone, bad boy or otherwise. And how they come together through a high school track, an English class, and a failing videography program.Themes: highschool!phan, badboy!Phil, valedictorian!Dan, enemies to friends to loversLength: 10k words

TW: language, use of homophobic slurs“Twat.” "Gaylord!“  "Asshole!”  Daniel Howell walked through the hallway, ignoring the insults hurled his way. He just kept walking, his long legs making it much faster. He hiked his blue varsity jacket up so it covered the back of his neck, running a hand through his dark, curly hair. 

 "Hey faggot, what the fuck?“ Before Dan could turn around, he was shoved up against the lockers roughly, two fists gathering up his jacket in their hands and holding him in place. "You know no one else did the assignment! Thanks to you, I’m failing English now!" 

 If it was anyone else being shoved up against the locker, they’d be shaking like a Chihuahua. The boy pushing against Dan was just as tall as he, which meant he towered over just about everyone, including the teachers. Stark black hair and a huge leather jacket that he filled out easily, Phil Lester was just short of terrifying, especially when he was pushing you up against the lockers, especially when he was angry. Which he was. Dan glared up at him, his expression annoyed, but calm. "Yeah, well, if you’d done the homework then maybe you wouldn’t be failing.”  "No one did the homework! Except you, you fucking twink.“ Dan didn’t waiver. "Phil, get off me.”  They were caught in a staring match, two strong personalities waiting to see who would back down first. “I’m not going to apologize for doing my homework, and I’m definitely not going to apologize for reminding Ms. Sanders to collect it. I worked hard on it, and I wasn’t about to give that up just because you are a fucking idiot.” His voice was getting louder, but he quickly checked himself, lowering it once more. “Now get off of me before Dr. Young sees us, and I let her know just how great of a student you are.”  He gestured to the side, and Phil checked, ready to call his bluff. But he couldn’t, because it was clear that the school principal, Dr.Young, was coming up fast.  "I can’t get another detention,“ Phil muttered. His grip in Dan’s jacket loosened, and Dan leant forwards, his voice poison.  "I know.”  He shoved Phil back, brushing off his jacket pointedly, and sending one more glare at Phil before turning and leaving to get to his next class before the tardy bell rang. - Phil slinked along the bleachers, his shoulders weighed down by his backpack in one hand, and a heavy camera pack in the other. “Hey Peej.”  Pj glanced up nervously, quickly going back to typing on his handheld laptop. “Hey Phil.” Phil slumped next to him, setting the heavy objects on the bleacher beside him. “They’re getting rid of video production.”  "What?“ Pj looked up, for real this time, his eyes wide. His hair was lighter than Dan’s, and even curlier. For all Phil cared, that’s where the resemblance ended. You could always see Dan’s intelligence in his eyes, the way he questioned everything and remained unshaken. In comparison, Pj was a Chihuahua; shaky, nervous, and small.  Phil tried not to laugh at the comparison.  "But there’s only one video class!” Pj complained, his voice going higher. “How could they get rid of this one?”  Phil shrugged. “Dunno. Something about there not being enough people who wanted to do it.” Pj’s shoulders dropped, his small form slouching forwards so he rested his elbows on his knees, and his head in his hands. “I mean… there are just five of us.”  "But video production is important!“ Phil complained, looking out at the empty track below. Or, almost empty, besides a lone runner circling the track. "What the fuck, it isn’t even track season yet.”  Pj looked to wearing Phil was frowning, and hummed. “Yeah, Howell runs there most days after school.” "Seriously?“ He shrugged. "Yeah, how else would he be the best in the school?” Pj looked back at his screen, only half paying attention to his words. “I hear he’s one of the best in the country. But it’s just what I’ve heard… Yeah, that sucks. I really liked video production.”  But Phil wasn’t paying any attention anymore. Instead his gaze was trained on the boy circling the track, his normal jeans and varsity jacket stripped away for a simple pair of basketball shorts and a light gray muscle shirt. The same boy who was the cause for Phil’s failing grade in English. The same boy who he pushed against the lockers, who despite being made smaller by Phil’s actions, couldn’t be made weak.  "Huh,“ Phil muttered. "So that’s what the varsity jacket’s from.” – "Hey twink,“ Phil called out as he strode towards Dan, who was just packing up his stuff to leave. "What was that, two laps? Damn, I should sign up for track. If that’s what the best of the best is, then I’ll just have to jog to place.” Dan gulped from his water bottle, taking his time to respond. Meanwhile, Phil admired how his sweat-stained shirt clung to the boy’s body. “It was six laps, actually,” Dan replied, still catching his breath. He managed a proud smile. “And I ran a nine minute mile, which in my book is just jogging. You couldn’t do one of my miles without going into cardiac arrest.”  "I couldn’t do one of your miles without falling asleep,“ Phil corrected, though he wasn’t sure if he’d ever ran a nine-minute mile in his life.  Dan walked up to him, so their chests almost touched, waiting expectantly, all traces of a smile gone. He smelt like herbs and sweat.  "What?” Phil asked, defensive. Dan’s voice was low and scratchy. Phil could feel his warm, labored breath on his skin. “You’re standing in front of my backpack.” Phil quickly moved to the side, watching as Dan retrieved his full book bag and slung it over his shoulders, grunting. “Now here’s the real workout. A mile run home, with a backpack heavier than an entire Pygmy family combined.”  Phil blinked. “You’re running home? Why don’t you get a car?” "Why don’t you get a life?“ Dan responded as he began to jog away, his tennis shoes pattering lightly against the pavement. — Chemistry, third block. Dan sat far to Phil’s left and a row forwards, but Phil could still see him. When the class was asked about what colleges they were applying for, Dan listed off at least five schools. Phil didn’t even have one. The teacher raised his eyebrows, saying "Wow, those are some pretty prestigious schools. But I don’t doubt that they’ll be fighting over you, Mr. Howell.” Then, he asked Dan what he was doing to prepare.  "I’ve got a ton of extracurriculars lined up for this year, and then some volunteering and track, of course. And I’ve got a part time job so I can afford sending in more than one application.“  The teacher and a few students laughed. Phil just frowned, thinking. —- "Hey, I heard about video production,” Dan said quietly, looking a little uncomfortable. “That must suck.” "Oh, um, yeah.“ Phil mumbled, taken aback. "It’s not very fair that there’s room for so many drawing classes and not even one videography one. It’s the only class I actually like.”  Dan gave him a small smile and a mumble of encouragement before disappearing back into the throngs of students crowding the hallway. —– First period English, and Dan came in late.  "Mr. Howell, I hope you have a good reason for disrupting the class,“ Ms. Sanders, the teacher, asked pointedly.  Dan’s hair was a mess, fluffy curls sticking out every which way. His eye bags were prominent. "I’m sorry, Ms. Sanders. Overslept.”  Overslept? Dan looked like he’d hardly slept. And based on the whispers that seemed to float throughout the room, it seemed as though this was the only time this year Dan had been tardy.  He plopped into his desk one row over and three seats in front of Phil. As the teacher handed back papers, Phil could just peer far enough to see the markers on Dan’s assignments- all nearly perfect scores. People said Dan might be the valedictorian.  Phil’s grades were better than normal, an attempt to bring his grade above failing. But they were nothing in comparison.  "Now, please put your homework in a pile on my desk. You should have your grades back soon. I hope you all printed it out already, remember I do not accept late work. This assignment was for a large part of your homework grade.“ Everyone started moving to the front, even Phil, who hadn’t been dumb enough to skip out on this assignment. Everyone, that is- except Dan.  Dan sat at his desk, hollow eyes wide in shock. His entire face had gone so pale it was almost green.  "Are you going to throw up?” Phil muttered, half sarcastic, half worried.  "Maybe. I… I forgot about the assignment.“  Dan truly looked like he might faint. Phil realized that while he may not care much for grades, Dan was a completely different story. This one assignment could affect his grade for the whole class- and while 10% wasn’t a big deal for Phil, it was astronomical for Dan.  Phil was a large boy, tall and broad shouldered. He was intimidating. He was scary. But he wasn’t really mean, not at his core. After all, you can wear a leather jacket and still be a decent human being, right? So when Phil turned his assignment in to the pile, he did the nice thing- and knocked over the teachers open water bottle, drenching the whole stack of papers and ruining them.  "I’m sorry!” He hurried to pick up the water bottle and clear up the mess, but the damage had been done. Students scurried away from the spill, giving Phil a wide berth for all to glare at him by.  Dan stood in the back of the crowd, one hand covering his mouth.  After a few minutes of commotion and cleaning, the teacher announced that the papers were ruined, and Phil off claiming it was an accident. “You’ll have to print off your papers again, and turn them in next class,” she relented.  Phil couldn’t see Dan’s face. But he could feel his relief. —— Phil leant against the fence, watching the track with mild interest. School had already ended, but Dan hadn’t made an appearance yet for his daily run.  "I never thought I’d thank someone for being clumsy,“ a voice said behind him, causing him to jump. There stood Dan, looking slightly more awake than he had that morning, and much more put together. He wore his usual running clothes, though today he wore a black undershirt, not a grey one.  Phil eyed him. "It’s not nice to scare people.” "It’s not nice to stalk people either,“ the boy said with a grin. "So whatcha doin’ out here Philly? Just like hangin’ by the track, is loitering an extracurricular now?” His voice was full of teasing, which Phil registered- though he chose to focus on something else. “Philly?”  Dan nodded, clearly pleased. “I’m not an advanced student for nothing. Thought of it on my way over here. I think it suits you.”  Phil was somewhere in between wanting to beat Dan up, and wanting to smile. “Huh. Why are you here again?”  The grin plastered across Dan’s face was subdued so it resembled more of a gentle, appreciative smile. “Yeah. I wanted to thank you for knocking that water bottle over, it helped me out a lot.”  "It was a complete accident,“ Phil defended. "I was shoved.”  Dan smirked. “That’s the story you’re going with? Seriously? I mean, okay, but….” he shook his head, smirking slightly. Phil could take a nap in his dimple. “Well, I gotta go. But accident or not… thanks.” ——- A week passed without any contact between the two of them. They saw each other in class, but didn’t talk. Sometimes they caught each other’s eye in the hallway, but the sea of people quickly pulled their gaze apart. Dan continued to run after school, and Phil started finding more reasons to go to the track field, whether to talk to Pj about the ending of the video program, or to lean against the fence a few minutes, ‘waiting for the roads to clear up’, he defended. Or rather, he would have defended, if anyone had questioned him.  Dan and Phil spoke again a whole eight days later, when they were walking to the track at the same time, for Phil to talk to Peej (who liked doing his homework in the bleachers), and for Dan to, well, run. Phil asked why he ran so much.  "It’s a major stress reliever.“ Dan explained, adjusting his backpack straps. "I’m sane when I run.”  "You’re so weird Howell,“ Phil said with absolutely no honesty in his tone.  "Maybe.” He shrugged. “But at least I’m sane for twenty minutes a day.”——– Dan got an A+ on the assignment in English. Phil could feel his pride, radiating all the way back to his own desk.  Throughout the entire English class, Dan kept glancing out the window; not in a bored way, but more expectant. Near the end, he physically jolted when he saw that there was a truck parked just outside the classroom, a big delivery truck. Phil didn’t get why he was so excited. The school got deliveries all the time, what was the big deal? When class ended, Phil packed his stuff and left, his backpack slumped against his back tiredly as he walked to his next class.  "Phil!“  Before he could turn around, there was a hand on his arm, pulling him towards the door. Dan. Stumbling to keep up, Phil ran behind the track star as they wove through the hallway.  "What- Dan, slow down!”  "This is barely a speed walk, keep up!“ They exited the crowds of students and Dan pushed open a door, tugging Phil outside. His grip on Phil’s arm loosened, falling until he was holding his hand. Dan didn’t seem to notice- but Phil definitely did.  Dan let go of his hand, walking around the truck, reading the labels on the packages scattered around. Phil wasn’t staring- but Dan looked really good in that varsity jacket. Like…. really good. "What are we doing out here?” Phil asked, trying to sound tough.  "I just have to…. yes! Phil, look at this package.“  Phil walked over cautiously. "Is it going to explode as soon as I touch it?” "Just read it.“  "You didn’t say no.” Phil walked over anyways, reading the label. “So what? It’s…. from Canon. So?” Dan looked at him like he was the stupidest person in the world. “Phil! It’s… video equipment.” Phil felt like he’d been punched. “Wait…. what do you- like, for making videos?” Dan rolled his eyes. “No toad, it’s for drawing. Of course it’s for videos! For video production class, a necessary class in this generation of technology.”  Touching the box gently, Phil’s mind raced. “You…. how?” A shrug and small smile. “I went to the schools with students considering to come here for school next year, and told the students and parents about our impressive video production program. Then I told Dr.Young about the new wave if students excited for video production class, and they reinstated it as a class.” He tapped on the box lightly. “I even got them to get some new equipment.” Phil shook his head, smiling. “I don’t even know.”  "I think the words you’re looking for are 'thank you’.“  Dan was smiling so smugly, and Phil found himself staring at the other boy’s lips.  Phil walking forwards. Dan walked back, until his back was pressed against the wall and Phil was leaning over him, one hand on each side of his head.  "Thank you,” he whispered.  Dan licked his lips, his eyes flickering down to Phil’s lips.  "I want to kiss you,“ Phil whispered. And he did.  Pushing Dan against the wall, he kissed him, starting out soft and getting more aggressive as the seconds passed. He pushed hard against Dan, squeezing his varsity jacket in his firsts, holding him in place. Dan’s hands fluttered around Phil, not quite sure where to land; wrapping around Phil’s neck, a hand on his shoulder, feeling his leather jacket, flat hands pressing against his chest.  Dan shoved him back, his eyes wide with fear.  And Phil just… stood there. Not quite sure whether to be angry, or ashamed, or just… sad.  Dan looked so… worried, like he’d just made a horrible mistake.  "Oh God.” "Dan,“ Phil said, the words getting stuck in his throat. "I’m…. I’m sorry.” "What?“ The boys brown eyes snapped up to meet Phil’s, still wide in shock. "No, I… shit! My next class is across the building! I’m going to be late!”  Dan grabbed his backpack from where he’d dropped it on the ground, whirling around and running back into the building.  Phil stood perfectly still, not quite sure… about anything.  Except for one thing: that was so fucking good. ——— They didn’t talk the rest of the day.———- Phil sprinted to his car, his feet splashing through the thick puddles forming on the ground. Practically diving into the driver’s seat, he slammed the door closed.  Shivering, Phil turned the car on with no intention to do anything beyond warm up. The parking lot was too crowded to move anyways.  Phil almost jumped at the sound of pounding on the passenger side door. There stood Dan, soaking wet, gesturing frantically.  Phil gestured for him to get in the backseat, and Dan jumped in, sliding into the back middle seat. “Thanks man, I almost drowned out there.”  Phil smiled with amusement. “In the rain?”  "'A little rain never hurt anyone, but a lot can kill you,’“ Dan quoted. "Why can’t I sit in the passenger seat?”  "Because my backpack’s there.“  "Nice to see where I rank.” Phil rolled his eyes. “You looked like you were in a hurry.”  Dan shrugged. His hair was extra curly from the rain, and his clothes and backpack were soaking wet. “Whatever. Do you need my address?”  "Why would I need your address?“ "If you’re driving me home.”  Phil leaned on the center consul, raising his eyebrows. “And who said I’m driving you home.”  "God did. Clearly he made it rain so I wouldn’t run home, so you could drive me home.“ Dan considered. "Also, you invited me into your car.” "You’re like a vampire. You have to be invited in.“  "Yeah, but I’m not going to bite your neck.” Dan leaned forwards, whispering against Phil’s ear, “At least, I’m not planning on it.”  "I’m not going to make you get out of the car, but I don’t uber people. This bus only has one stop, and that’s at my house.“ Dan shrugged, leaning against the seat. "Sure. Better than running in the rain.” ———– "Is anyone home?“ Dan asked, setting his backpack on the kitchen table comfortably.  "Nope, everyone’s still at work. And my brother Martyn is in university right now.” "Huh, I didn’t know you had a brother. You’re a youngest child.“ Dan stripped off his wet varsity jacket, putting it over a chair gently. "I’m the oldest.” "Does it matter?“ "Basic psychology suggests that I’d be a high achiever, and you’d be used to getting your way. Is that accurate?” Dan leant against the kitchen table comfortably, eyes flickering around the house.  Phil shrugged, ditching his damp jacket on the chair next to Dan’s. “I don’t get everything I want.”  Dan raised an eyebrow. “You wanted me all alone with you in your house, and you got that.”  "Says who?“  "Says me.” Dan watched Phil carefully. “And here I am. What happens next?” Phil snorted. “I make you walk home in the rain.”  "Lie.“  "I tell you you’re making things up.”  "Another lie. Oh, where is the truth?“  "Now I really want to make you walk home in the rain.”  Dan smiled, letting the subject drop for the moment. “Do you have anything to eat?”  "Nothing you’d be interested in.“  Dan bit his lip, considering. "Try me.”  Phil laughed, grabbing two apples from the counter and tossing one to Dan. “I was just talking about fruit.”  "That’s what I was talking about too.“  They caught each other’s eyes for a moment, exchanging a glance.  "I’m all wet,” Dan muttered, his tone making it clear he was aware of the innuendo. “Can I borrow some of your clothes.”  "Clothes are overrated.“  For a second, it was clear that Dan believed Phil. His expression dropped, replaced with one of nervousness.  "I’m kidding. Come on, you can borrow some of my clothes.”  Phil finished his apple as they walked upstairs, tossing it in his room waste basket.  His room was nice, relatively speaking. All the same bland brown furniture, scattered with figurines from different animes and video games. One full wall was covered in band posters.  Dan sat on Phil’s bed, looking around quietly as Phil got out some new clothes, tossing them over and grabbing some for himself.  "First time you’ve had a boy in your bed?“ Dan asked awkwardly.  "Nope.” Phil muttered. “I mean… I have friends over sometimes. We share a bed.”  "Oooh, friends.“ Dan pulled his shirt over his head, and Phil froze, trying not to stare. "You like making assumptions, huh?”  "Love it.“ Dan stood up and shimmied off his jeans carelessly. "Are you gay or bi?”  "Who said I’m either?“  "You did. When you kissed me.”  "I don’t remember much talking going on.“  "Actions speak louder than words.”  Phil smiled, pulling a fresh shirt on so he was now wearing only dry clothes- save, or course, for his boxers. “So how should I be taking this? You, not wearing any trousers, in my bedroom? It seems like your actions are speaking pretty loudly.” "Shut up, Lester.“ ———— "Aren’t you supposed to have a ton of after school stuff or something?”  "Meh. Everything was either canceled or hasn’t been done yet.“ "Homework?”  "I can do it at home.“  "It’s seven o'clock.”  Dan sat up fast from the bed. They’d played video games for a while, talking and bantering. When they got tired of that, they just flopped on Phil’s bed, sometimes talking. Sometimes just…. being.  Dan groaned. “I should go. I’m taking four college level classes.”  "Ew.“ Dan nodded. "Drive me to my house?”  "Legs not working anymore, track star?“  "Nope. They’re dead.”  "Wonderful.“ Phil sat up, groaning. The noise made Dan bite his lip, forcing himself to look away. "I’ll drive you, but only 'cause it’s raining, and your backpack weighs more than you do.”  Dan glanced out the window, scowling. “Seriously? Is it going to flood?” "Hopefully. No school.“  "Yeah, but it’ll set the entire schedule back at least a week. And the economic downsides-” his voice trailed off, seeing Phil wasn’t paying attention. “What, too smart for you?”  "You’re too smart for me.“ Phil sighed, and forced himself to his feet. "Come on, let’s go.”  They went downstairs, grabbing their respective jackets as they passed through the kitchen. “Oh Phil, I didn’t know you had a friend over.” "Well now you do. I’ll be back in a few.“ Before his mom could ask any further questions, Phil was out the door, Dan right behind him.  "Your mom seems nice.”  Phil scowled. “Yeah.” ————- "This your place?“  "Yeah.” Dan glanced out the window, looking at the significantly smaller house than the Lester’s’, in no rush to leave.  "Wait.“ Phil squeezed the steering wheel, forcing himself to collect himself. "You’ve been messing with me all night. I just need to know, did you like the kiss?”  Dan was tired, it was clear. Seeing his house again clearly wasn’t something that made him happy. “Actions speak louder than words, Phil.” Collecting himself, Dan grabbed one of the jackets from the back seat and his backpack from the floor of the car, getting out into the thundering rain.  "Yeah, but you pushed me away!“ Phil called out, a ring of thunder shaking the Earth.  ”After I kissed back!“  The car door was slammed, and the figure disappeared, running through the sheets of water draining from the sky. Phil left after Dan got inside, shivering and cold. ————— Phil slept well that night. Dan, with four college level classes worth of homework, did not.  "Hey faggot!”  Dan turned around, scowling at Phil. “Nice slur, asshole. What do you want?” Phil raised his eyebrows in mock surprise, taking his time to play with Dan. “What? 'Asshole?’ Tsk tsk, I hope the college recruiters don’t hear you!”  "You know nothing about college recruiters,“ Dan mumbled, scraping a hand through his hair in annoyance. His hair was so curly it was poufy- a sure sign of an all-nighter. Lowering his voice, Dan allowed himself to be vulnerable, if only for a second. "What do you want?”  "You. Under the bleachers, during third block.“  "Hard pass,” Dan snapped, turning and walking away.  "Hey twink, I wasn’t done talking to you!“ Phil ran to catch up, annoyed at the unexpectant exercise. "Chill, I was just joking. Hey Dan… Dan, stop, I’m trying to talk to you!” Phil grabbed his backpack, yanking him back.  Dan whirled around. “What.” He spat the word, like it tasted bitter in his mouth. "You took my jacket home with you last night. I have your varsity jacket in my bag, let me just-“  "Not here,” Dan pleaded, looking around uncomfortably. “Not with people watching.”  Phil raised an eyebrow, but slung his bag back on his back, the jacket remaining inside. “What? Don’t want to let people know you’re….” he leaned closer, lowering his voice to a whisper playfully. “A fag?”  The backpack loosely hanging on Phil’s shoulder thumped on the ground, thundering as loud as the previous night’s rain. Dan slammed Phil against the locker, one elbow against his throat. Dan’s eyes were glossy, and he snarled, “I’m not a fucking fag, Phil. I’m not a fucking twink. And I’m not any of the other stupid-fucking-slurs you can come up with. So shut the fuck up.” Dan held him there for a moment, staring at him with pure hatred in his eyes. Then he pushed Phil away, storming down the hall.  Dan was tardy to class that day. —————- Dan ran around the track over and over, only stopping for water. He reached his daily goal of six laps and kept going, counting mentally each time he passed the starting line. Seven….. eight…. nine…. After nine, he stopped for water once more. Lying next to his water bottle on the cold metal bench, was none other than his jacket.  Phil was nowhere to be seen. Dan got a drink, and kept running.—————– Dan and Phil didn’t talk again for a week, at least. Maybe it was more. Either way, it didn’t matter. Dan was doing more laps on the track each day, and Phil was getting better grades than ever, D’s turning to C’s, and the occasional B.  There were college applications to fill out.  Homework to do.  Running.  Lots of running.  Every day…. running. Phil stayed after some days, doing extra work with the video production class. He was made into one of the leaders, learning how to use the new equipment, preparing for next year’s influx of freshmen excited about film.  Dan kept getting A’s. No surprise there.  Dan still had Phil’s leather jacket. Phil didn’t know how to ask for it back.  But as much as they delighted in ignoring each other, eventually it was time to at least be civil. They could’ve gone longer, but apparently God was getting fed up with them, and decided some divine intervention was needed- in the form of rain.  Phil stood under a tree near where his car was parked, waiting. As soon as he caught the other boy’s eye, he nodded towards his car, walking over and getting in, following a few seconds later by Dan himself. "Hey.“  "Hey.”  They both stared out the windshield at the rain streaming down, forming little puddles on top of the unmoving wipers.  Phil sighed, reaching over and turning the car on, knocking the switch to turn the wipers on medium.  "Video production going good?“ Dan asked weakly. He held his backpack in his lap, forming a sort of wall.  "Yeah.”  "Cool.“  The car remained unmoving.  "And… your, uh, school stuff? College level classes?”  "It’s… good. Lots of homework.“  "Yeah. That’s… yeah.”  "Yeah.“ Dan huffed. "I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shoved you earlier.”  "Shoved me?“  "I shouldn’t have pushed you,” Dan corrected. “I’d barely slept that night and I was upset by your use of derogative terms towards me. But I shouldn’t have taken it out on you physically.”  Phil hummed, tapping on the steering wheel and watching cars pass by, still not even bothering to start the car. “Hmm. I actually don’t just remember you pushing me. I’m pretty sure you actually pushing me against the lockers, and then told me to shut the fuck up.” "God, you are so-“  "Not a good friend?” Phil supplied, anger clear in his voice. “Funny, I was just about to say the same about you.”  There was a moment of silence. The two boys didn’t look at each other, just staring straight forwards at the cars driving past them. The rain wasn’t letting up.  "Since when have you ever been friends,“ Dan asked, and it was a fair question. They used to hate each other, to some degree at least.  "Don’t look at me. You’re the one who saved the videography program.”  "Yeah, after you destroyed those papers.“ Dan was silent, thinking. "Why’d you do that anyways?” Phil huffed. “You act like I’m inherently a bad person.”  "Well thanks, but I don’t need your charity.“  "Ha!” Finally, Phil turned to Dan, having finally found the argument he was looking for. “That’s BS. You needed me to ruin those tests if you ever had a shot at being valedictorian. And you needed me to drive you home that day it rained, and you needed me to give you back your jacket because you took the wrong one, and you needed me not to beat the shit out of you when you screamed in my face in the hallway! Face it Dan, if anyone else were to do that, you think I would’ve just let them leave like that? But I didn’t beat you up, because-” his voice caught.  "Because?“ Dan’s voice was soft, not competitive like it usually was.  "Because if people saw that you got into a fight on school grounds, you’d be in serious trouble,” Phil finished, causing Dan’s heart to drop.  "Oh.“  Phil paused for a moment. "But thanks for… apologizing and stuff.” The lump in Dan’s throats only grew. “Um… yeah. No problem.”  An uncomfortable silence consumed the car. The parking lot had cleared out enough, so Phil started the engine and shifted the car into drive, pulling out of the parking spot. They didn’t speak again until they pulled up in the driveway of Phil’s house, and Phil parked the car. Dan looked out the window, and for the first time realized they weren’t in front of his house. “Um, Phil?” "It’s a one stop bus, remember? We’re here. Everybody off.“ —————— "Does this count as a hostage negotiation? Kidnapping, perhaps?” Phil considered, his attention half preoccupied with the video game he was playing- a racing game of some kind, not that Dan cared. By picking up the second controller, he was giving in- something he refused to do.  "Not a hostage negation,“ Phil decided, eyes trained on the screen. "We’re not doing any negotiating. And it’s not kidnapping, you willing got in my car.” "If an uber driver says 'get in, I’ll take you home’ and he brings you to the middle of a corn field to murder you, then is it really kidnapping? I mean, you did get in the car with him, willingly.“  "Not paying attention,” Phil interjected. “Too busy racing. Come in, just pick up the remote. It’s no fun playing on my own.”  "Sentences by Phil,“ Dan muttered. "Is everything you say unintentionally perverted?”  "Not all of them are unintentional,“ Phil smirked, jerking the game controller to the side abruptly. "I think that genius brain of yours is just filthy.”  Dan plopped down on Phil’s bed, groaning. Phil tried not to be /too/ distracted by the noise. “Leave my genius brain out of this.”  The round ended, and Phil set down his controller, sighing and pushing Dan’s unused one to the side. “You’re so lame. Why do you even get scholarships?” "Cause I’m smart, and charming. Just not for you.“  "I get the boring Dan. Why does God hate me?” "Shut up,“ Dan laughing, shoving Phil gently. He stood, stretching out. "I need to go soon. If I actually want to use those scholarships, I need to do my homework.” Phil stood abruptly, surprising Dan. “Wait. Come on, we have to do something first.” Dan looked hesitant, though he still managed a smile. “Like what?”  Phil leant up against the wall, giving Dan a few feet of space. “That friends thing. How stuck are we with that?”  Dan hummed, considering it. “We’re not.”  "We’re not friends, or we’re not stuck with it?“  Dan grinned. "Yes.”  Inhaling, Phil took a few slow steps forwards, the other boy’s eyes trained on him all the while. “This is me giving you a chance to run away.”  "Noted,“ Dan joked lightly, though he stayed in place.  "Last warning.”  "Got it.“  Phil stepped closer to Dan, pulling him away from the door and towards the wall, putting one hand on each side of his head. "I’m going to kiss you now.”  Dan caught his breath, eyes half closed and lips just parted and Phil leant closer slowly. “N-nice question there Phil. Good w-way to ask for my consent, y-you dog.” "I’m going to kiss you now,“ Phil repeated. "So if you want me to not, now’s a good time to tell me.”  Dan licked his lips, stuttering. “Um, y-yeah, I got the message. Nice Phil, real nice, just backing me into a corner like this-”  Phil’s lips pressed against Dan’s slowly, effectively shutting him up. And for a few seconds they both held perfectly still, lips pressed together, just enjoying the sensation. Just feeling.  Then Phil’s hand drifted to Dan’s waist, touching gently. And for a bad boy who wore leather jackets and cussed and got bad grades and probably kicked bunnies for fun, his touch was so fucking gentle, oh God.  They started moving slowly, Dan making the first move. Slow, soft kisses turned to sloppy open mouthed ones, hands wandering but never anywhere too dangerous. It was like their first kiss in many ways; how Phil kept Dan pushed against the wall like he might run off, how Dan didn’t know where to put his hands so they traveled, up and down Phil’s torso and pressing against his chest. But this time, they didn’t push him back; this time, they held tightly onto Phil’s jacket, gripping it in handfuls.  They had no reason to stop kissing. So they didn’t. Time stood still as the two boys melted into the kiss. As soon as it got too heated, they slowed down, returning to the less aggressive ones, softly easing back into a rhythm.  Dan, despite all of his academic prowess, got impatient easily. His hands wandered lower, tugging at Phil’s shirt needily, pinching the edge of the boy’s jeans. Phil carefully pulled his hands back up to his shoulders, but Dan whined, rocking his entire body against Phil’s.  Dan pushed against him, pushing Phil to step backwards as their lips never lost contact. He shoved him onto the bed, quickly climbing on top. Phil was pressed into his sheets, the smaller boy on top of him as they kept kissing, kissing, endlessly.  Phil rolled them over, gripping Dan’s uncertain hands and holding them above the boy’s head. And they kept going, only stopping when the first moan was let out.  Was it Dan? Or did the low groan of pleasure escape from Phil’s mouth? Neither was quite sure, but Phil was the one to pull back, his hands still gripping Dan’s wrists softly. “We have to stop.”  "Why?“ Dan whined, impatient.  They were both breathing deeply, all the many minutes of excursion having stolen away their breath. "Because,” Phil said, the words foreign in his mouth. He gasped for breathe, pushing himself into a sitting position. “Just… because.” ——————– "See you later,“ Dan waved slightly. "Friends?” Phil shook his head. “We’re not friends.” "Oh yeah? What are we then?“  "What are we?” Phil repeated with a sly smile. “See ya.”  "Yeah, whatever. See ya.“——————-  "Anyone join any clubs yet?” At least two thirds of the chemistry class raised their hands. Among them were the tall boy with curly hair, and the taller boy with straight black hair.  His hair may have been the straightest thing about him.  "Anyone doing…. student council?“  Three hands stayed up. Among them was Dan’s.  "Anyone doing…. any sports? Track? Basketball?” Dan’s hand remained up.  "Honors society? EIA? National Math Society?“ His hand didn’t waiver.  "Wow, Daniel, you certainly have a busy schedule. How do you have time for friends?”  Dan laughed. “I don’t.” ——————– "It’s raining again. My place?“ Dan shook his head. "I’ve got clubs and stuff. I’ll be here until five, maybe it’ll clear up by then.”  Phil’s heart sunk. “Oh. You free this weekend?” Another no. “The math team is going to a competition. It’s overnight.”  Phil sighed. “You really are busy, huh?”  "Yeah.“ Dan looked guilty. "Sorry. But thanks for the offer.”——————- They didn’t kiss for two weeks. Sometimes, they talked in the halls, or before class. Nothing too deep.  Phil like talking to Dan. He was so intelligent, Phil just wanted to soak up his words and keep them, hold them tight to be used on the next written exam.  "Daniel Howell!“ Phil called out in an announcer’s voice, jogging towards the track, the camera held tightly in his hands. "True or false, you run for track?”  Dan smiled widely, despite the sweat dripping down his forehead. “That’s true.”  "True or false, you’re going to beat the school record for fastest mile?“ Phil ran along beside Dan, having to run to keep up with Dan’s fast jog. "True! I can feel it, it’s happening this year!” "Well it better! Because this is your last chance before graduation! Do you feel the pressure?“  "I feel the pressure!” Dan laughed, his smile full of light. His entire body radiated energy, and happiness. "This clip is going to air on the first edition of our school’s new monthly TV show,“ Phil panted, the heavy camera slowing him down. "What do you have to say to our viewers?”  "Eat my dust!“  ”Daaaaan.“ He laughed brightly. "No, work hard to achieve your dreams. Now Phil, I’m going to pass out if I keep running and talking, so can I get back to my workout?” "Well there you have it audience! Dan Howell, future Olympian!“ Phil came to a stop, filming Dan a little longer as he sped off, transitioning into a sprint.—————— "Howell!”  Dan jumped. “Jeez, Phil. What do you want?”  "You’re schedule,“ Phil announced, not even hesitating. "We’re having a sleepover.” "Do I have any say in this?“  Phil held out his open palm. "Phone. And no, you have zero say.”  Dan handed Phil however hesitantly, watching as he typed in his number. “About time you get my number. Text me when.” He turned, and strode away.  "Don’t think this means we’re friends!“ Dan called back. "Never,” Phil laughed.—————–  Dan laughed loudly, the joyous noise filling the dark car with light. “Oh my gosh Phil, who even are you?”  "It wasn’t my fault!“ Phil defended. "The squirrel just came out of nowhere!”  "Only you, only you.“  "Hey, you’re the one who fell up an escalator,” Phil defended, aggressively pointing a French fry his way. “How do you even screw up that badly?”  "I dunno,“ Dan took a bite out of his burger, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "I tried taking the steps two at a time. I guess the power just got to my head.”  Phil wiped his hands on a wad of already filthy napkins, making sure there was no ketchup left over when he reached for Dan’s arm. “Come on, lemme see.”  Dan held up his elbow proudly, watching as Phil inspected it, running his thumb over the scarred skin lightly. “See? Now I’ve got escalator teeth marks permanently etched into my skin!”  "Etched?“ Phil raised his eyebrows, smiling dumbly. "Seriously? Oh my God, you’re so fucking posh.”  "I told you, I was obsessed with Winnie the Pooh! And at least I’m not as Northern as you are, innet?“  Phil shoved him lightly. "Screw off.” Dan grinned. “Come here.”  Phil leaned in, though he wasn’t quite sure why. “What?”  "I wanna… wanna try something.“ Dan gripped Phil’s jawline sloppily, pulling him close to kiss sloppily. They kissed for a few seconds before Dan shrieked and yanked backwards, spluttering. "Oh God, that’s disgusting! You had pickles in your burger, didn’t you?”  Phil shrugged, smiling proudly. “No regrets.”  "I’m not kissing you again until you brush your teeth,“ Dan decided. "And rinse with mouthwash. And floss.”  "Who said we’re going to kiss again?“ The taller boy wondered aloud. "Maybe I won’t brush my teeth ever again, so that I can make sure I don’t get any more of your awkward groping.”  "If you don’t brush your teeth ever again, me not wanted to kiss you will be the least of your issues. You won’t get anyone to kiss you- ever.“  Phil looked at Dan maniacally. Carefully setting his take out bag in the backseat, he crawled over, pushing Dan against the car door and holding him in place. Dan whined, pushing against him without force.  Phil reached over and locked his hand around Dan’s chin as the smaller boy wriggled under his grip. "No, Phil!” He laughed, “Don’t you dare!”  Phil stopped before their lips touched, his head already starting to tilt. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”  Dan pouted, his chin still being held firmly in Phil’s hand. “I was just playing the game. You don’t have to ask every time.” He lowered his voice, shyer. “I like when you are a little rougher. I’ll let you know if you need to actually stop.”  "Safeword?“ Phil suggested. "Red?”  "This isn’t a fanfic, Dan.“ "Yeah, but it’s easy to remember and it gets the point across.” He rolled his eyes. “Fine. Color?” "Grassy green. Kiss me already, you’re crushing me.“  And they kissed. And Dan only was a little bit annoyed at the lingering taste of pickles on Phil’s lips.—————- "Deepest fear?” "Failure. You?“ "You’re not a failure,” Phil muttered, fingers pinching the blanket over them absently. “And you’ll never be one.”  "Hey, you said deepest darkest.“ Dan’s eyes were bright, despite the room being do dark. "And that’s the darkest,” he whispered. “You?” Phil exhaled slowly, racking his mind. “I dunno. Don’t think about it much.”  "What drives you?“ Dan asked, softly. He was lying on his side, head rested on his hands delicately.  "You’ve been in my car Dan.” "Stop evading my question.“ Phil exhaled again, closing his eyes. He lay on his back, one hand underneath his neck and the other draped across his chest limply. "I dunno. I just kind of… wake up, and keep going.”  "Sounds sad. You need something new and exciting in your life.“  Phil snorted. "Like what? Maybe I’m just lonely. What do you think, should I try to get someone in my bed? A track star, perhaps?”  "Doesn’t count,“ Dan muttered. "We’re still wearing clothes, so I’m not 'in your bed’ in that usage. Try again.” "That can be changed,“ Phil whispered, rolling over Dooley do he and Dan were face to face. His pale fingers stroked the dark hair away from Dan’s eyes almost absently. "Parents’ room is downstairs. They’ll never know.”  "I’m not sleeping with you,“ Dan decided, rolling onto his back.  "Why not?” "Cause you’ll give me crabs. I don’t know Phil, cause we’re friends? Wasn’t that your excuse last night?“ "We’re not friends,” Phil chuckled darkly.  "Oh yeah?“ Dan watched him, staring at Phil intently. As if he could read Phil’s mind by watching his hands fiddle about, read his thoughts by assessing his features. "Then what are we?” "Something dangerous,“ Phil answered quietly. "And something I don’t want to mess with. Not quite yet.” Dan rolled closer to Phil under the covers, their chests facing each other. They were touching, but only barely. Not quite cuddling. Not yet.  "When can we mess with it?“  "I don’t know. Sometime.” Dan waited, listening to Phil’s steady breathing for a few moments. “Okay. I can do that.”  He reached out his hand under the covers slowly, searching until he found Phil’s. They slowly intertwined.  Neither boy looked at each other. But both blushed, doing their best not to let on how simple hand holding made them so unsure. Because making out could be written off as lust. But holding hands meant there was something else. Something real.————— They didn’t kiss at school. They didn’t kiss in front of people. Actually, for the next few days, they didn’t kiss at all.  But they wanted to.  It was difficult to see each other what with Dan’s busy schedule. Phil had things to do too, with other friends, with videoing, and with his recent attempt to do slightly better in school. He couldn’t date someone as smart as Dan and fail school at the same time, that would just be embarrassing. And Phil wanted to date Dan, he did. So he had to get his grades up.  "It looks like we have perfect attendance today,“ Ms. Sanders noted as she walked over to her desk. "Everyone in row one, two, three…. oh, I was wrong. It seems Dan isn’t here today.”  Phil quickly glanced over. Sure enough, Dan was nowhere to be found.  "Is he sick?“  The class was filled with a low murmuring, everyone guessing why the smartest student in their class- and one of the only people in the school who cared about the perfect attendance award- was gone.  "I think he got hurt,” someone said. “I heard he hurt his leg in gym. They had to drive him to the hospital.”  "Oh, that’s horrible,“ the teacher commented blandly. "Well, I hope he gets better soon. Now class, if you’d open up your books to page 127…” "Ms. Sanders?“ Phil asked, not bothering to raise his hand. "Can I go to the bathroom?”  "I certainly hope so.“ She glanced at the clock. "But class just started, you should have-” "Thanks!“ Phil interrupted, scooping up his backpack and practically running out the door.  "Don’t forget the hall pass!”  Phil grabbed the pass, hurrying out the door. He ditched the pass against the wall, and walked right past the bathroom and out the school doors.————– The first thing Dan said when Phil entered his curtained off corner of the ER was “You’re supposed to be in school.”  "Yeah, so are you.“ Phil walked over with his hands in his pockets, observing the boot wrapped around Dan’s ankle. "Nice work there Dan. You really screwed yourself over.”  Dan rolled his eyes. “What can I say? I go all or nothing. This isn’t that bad though, doctors say I can walk normally in about two weeks. Can’t run for a month, minimum.”  He looked so sad and downtrodden that Phil tried for an encouraging smile. “Hey, if you need pity, I can give you pity. Just let me know.” Two doe eyes looked up at Phil hopefully. “I need pity.”  "You poor baby,“ Phil intoned, attempting at being helpful. "That’s horrible. You didn’t deserve it.”  "I hate your pity.“  They stayed in silence then, just allowing themselves to process everything. "I’m never going to get a track scholarship, am I.”  "Probably not. And you won’t be getting a perfect attendance award either.“ Dan sent daggers in Phil’s direction, and he held up his hands in surrender. "Hey, I thought we were still doing the pity party thing.”  Dan sighed. “Go back to school. I’ll text you my schedule, and you can pick up my homework and drop it off at my house.” "And why would I do that?“  "Because I’ll have crutches soon,” Dan threatened, “And I’m not afraid to use them.”  "I could take you,“ Phil retaliated without any merit behind the words. "Any day of the year. Even when you’re not injured.” "Yeah, whatever.“ Dan reached over and grabbed Phil’s hand, pulling him over until he could grab his collar, pulling him down and kiss the boy, however briefly. "My mom will be here soon. You’d better get out of here before then.”  Phil didn’t question it. Instead, he brushed some of Dan’s fringe aside, messing it up a bit to annoy him, and then stood. “Send me your class list. See you later.”  "You’d better. Otherwise I’ll crawl over to your house with my three good limbs and fuck you up.“ ————- Dan was laying on his bed when Phil came in, homework in tow. It was the first time Phil had ever been inside Dan’s house. It was even smaller than it appeared from outside.  Dan lay on his mattress with a mass of pillows keeping him sitting upright, with his foot propped up slightly, a bag of ice sitting lopsidedly on top of it.  "Are you trying to freeze your foot off?”  "Yes. Papers?“  Phil set them on the bed next to Dan, still looking around. "Nice place.”  "Don’t lie Phil. Anyways, thanks for bringing them. I’ll see you.“  "Yeah, okay.” Phil leant down to kiss him, causing Dan to hiss.  "Not here. Not with mom right over there.“  Phil swallowed the lump in his throat. "Yeah, okay. Yeah. Um…. I’ll see you at school.”  "See you at school.“———— From: Dan Have you finished the assignment yet? From: Phil Nah, I’m on twitter From: Dan Nm then From: Phil  what do you want? From: Dan You. Under the bleachers Jksuch joke From: Phil omg From: Dan Omg? Srly? Are you 5? From: Phil  Omg is cool slang! From: Dan Ok grandpa I’m bored  From: Phil  that’s why your texting me?  From: Dan HW is dragging me down Wanna do something stupid  From: Phil So that’s why you’re texting me From: Dan  You said it, not me From: Phil What do you want to do? From: Dan There’s the teacher’s bathroom around the corner All the teachers in this wing have classes rn From: Phil  Meet you there? From: Dan Wait a few minutes. I’ll go first. "Yes Dan?” "May I use the restroom?“  "You may.” Dan shifted in his seat, standing on one foot and reaching for his crutches on the floor. He clomped out of the room agonizingly slowly. You could hear the crutches clump against the floor with each step, even as he walked down the hallway.  Phil waited.  From: Dan Go "Can I go to the bathroom?“  The teacher sighed. "You may, yes.”  ———– "Hey Phil?“ Dan muttered in between kisses.  "Yeah?” "I really like kissing you.“  ”Good.“  ———- That Friday, there was a school wide assembly. Mostly to let the students know about track signups starting soon, and how there was a new dress code concerning hats. And, of course, the premier of the new videography program with the first episode of the monthly news.  It was pretty decent for a first episode. There were a few more students than in the old program, so there was a mesh of different 'news broadcasters’ and announcing styles. The best segment by far was Phil’s weather report, where he suggested that in the next month it would be warm and sunny with a small blizzard. Next month, it’d definitely have to be more accurate, but for now the joke made everyone laugh.  The audience quieted down when the camera began getting shaky, and the track came into view. Running on the track was a tall boy with dark, curly hair, already shiny with sweat.  "True or false, you’re going to beat the school record for fastest mile?” Phil’s voice echoed through the room.  Dan shifted in his seat uncomfortably. The boot on his leg felt twenty pounds heavier.  "True! I can feel it, it’s happening this year!“ Dan’s voice was so full of hope in the clip, mixed with the panting and excursion from running. The real Dan, the one sitting in the audience with his crutches by his side, could feel all the eyes in him. "Well it better! Because this is your last chance before graduation! Do you feel the pressure?”  "I feel the pressure!“ Dan laughed, his smile full of light. His entire body radiated energy, and happiness. "This clip is going to air on the first edition of our school’s new monthly TV show,” Phil panted, the heavy camera slowing him down. “What do you have to say to our viewers?”  "Eat my dust!“  ”Daaaaan.“ He laughed brightly. "No, work hard to achieve your dreams. Now Phil, I’m going to pass out if I keep running and talking, so can I get back to my workout?” "Well there you have it audience! Dan Howell, future Olympian!“ Phil came to a stop, filming Dan a little longer as he sped off, transitioning into a sprint. The show transitioned into another segment, something about upcoming dissections. But the damage was done.  Dan stood up shakily, getting his crutches and slowly making his way to the door. No one stopped him, not even the teachers.———  From: Phil Im sorry  From: Dan You didn’t do anything wrong From: Phil I’m still sorry  Where r u? From: Dan Library studying From: Phil Want company From: Dan No——–  Dan had more free time now. He was able to do some of his homework in gym class. He didn’t stay after school anymore for running, and Phil was driving him home every day so he didn’t have to hobble the whole way there on his crutches. ——-  "Mum, calm down,” Phil complained. “It’s only Martyn.” "Only my baby boy!“ His mum replied, wringing her hands in a dish towel. "Oh, I miss him so much! I hope he likes the food!” "How could he not? He’s been eating university food for the past few months.“ Mother Lester sent him a stern look.  "I mean, how could he not like the food? You’re a great cook!”  She nodded, pleased. “Better. Now, go change. You look like a deviant.”  "Muuuummmm…“ "No buts! Change.”  Phil slouched up the stairs to his room, grabbing out some different clothes. He glanced in the mirror. He was hardly deviant- black skinny jeans and a leather jacket just were what looked good on him. It didn’t matter, he was fighting a losing battle. His mum had been extra harsh on his appearance ever since he’d dyed his hair black for the first time- nearly 2 years ago.  His mum was wearing more formal clothes, so Phil decided he should do the same. He compromised with a pair of good looking jeans and a button up dark gray shirt- though he didn’t button the top buttons.  "Much better,“ his mum complimented when he came downstairs. "Dinner’s just about ready. Your father should be home with Martyn soon.” ——  From: Phil My brother Martyn is coming home tonight from uni Moms making her traditional dinner of salmon and mash and I can’t wait  From: Dan Lol nice My mom made her traditional dinner tonight too It’s called 'there’s pizza in the freezer, we’ll be home late’ "Oh, are you sure?“ Phil could hear his mother’s voice from the other room. "Well, I want you to stay safe. Okay, take care. Love you.”  From: Phil Oh no She was just talking on the phone with someone  I don’t know if the miracle child is coming home tonight  "Phil?“  "Yeah mum?” Phil did his best to remain plain faced as his mum explained that traffic was miserable, and Martyn and their dad had decided to just stay at a motel overnight.  "That sucks,“ Phil said, trying to sound genuine. "Oh well.”  His mum still looked concerned. “And I made all that salmon. And the house us so clean…” her eyes trailed to Phil’s lap, where he was still typing on his phone. “Who are you texting?”  "Just Dan.“ Phil didn’t bother looking up. "Why?”  "Do you… do you think Dan has dinner plans tonight?“—– Dan lowered himself into the car, carefully bringing his crutches in after him. "Hey Phil, how’re- oh shit. You look…”  "Thanks,“ Phil said sarcastically. "Mum made me wear it.” He pulled into the street, fidgeting with his gray button up briefly before putting both hands on the wheel once more.  "I feel underdressed,“ Dan muttered, buckling in. "Should I change?” "Too late. I’m already on the road.“ —- "Dan, it’s nice to meet you!” Phil’s mum wrapped her arms around the boy enthusiastically, almost knocking him off his crutches. “Phil didn’t tell me you were on crutches!”  "You didn’t ask,“ Phil retorted blandly, tossing his keys on the counter. "Can we eat now?” But his mum was on a roll. “Phil tells me so little these days. But you look like a nice boy. I can always tell, you know, as soon as I see someone-”  "Mum!“ Phil interrupted. "Dinner!”  She sighed, turning towards her son. “I’m just talking to Dan! Why don’t you be a good host and show Dan around, while I put the food out?”  "Actually,“ Dan interjected, "I’d prefer if we could just sit down. The ankle.” He gestured at his leg awkwardly. “And I’ve already seen your house, actually. When I’ve hung out with Phil. It’s lovely, really.”  Mrs. Lester beamed. “You’re so sweet. Okay, I’ll get the food.” She rushed off to the kitchen to get the food.  "Suck up,“ Phil whispered. "Yeah, well you don’t make it on to the honor roll by being an ass.” Dan whispered back. “Not that you’d know.” "Your literally a cripple, stop making me want to fight you.“  "I could take you.” Phil shoved Dan lightly. He stumbled, almost tripping over his crutch.  Dan huffed. “Rude.”  They went over to the dinner table, sitting down. It was set nicely, and the house was cleaner than normal- all in preparation for Martyn’s arrival. “Your mum must be pretty disappointed he couldn’t come,” Dan said, without context. "She was. You know he’s the favorite.“  "I know that’s why you lash out,” Dan mumbled, not looking at Phil. “Why you do the whole 'I don’t care’ act. It’s because you don’t think you can live up to the expectations.” "It’s not an act.“  "Really? So now that you’re 'friends’ with me, all of a sudden you care about grades?” He made air quotes at the word 'friends’.  "Why would you think that?“ "The English homework.”  "What about it?“  ”You did it.“ "Dinner’s ready!” Mrs. Lester announced cheerily. “I hope you like fish, Dan!”  Dan put on a big, happy, parent-pleasing smile. “I love it.”— "I do student council, EIA, track, math society…“ Dan ticked off the list, going through all his different extracurriculars and clubs. "And four college level classes. But those are during school, so they hardly count.”  Mrs. Lester smiled in disbelief. “Wow, that’s…. certainly a lot.”  "Dan’s an honors student,“ Phil added, spearing a piece of salmon with his fork. "People are saying he’ll be valedictorian this year.” "Wow, that’s impressive.“  "And completely unnecessary,” Dan argued. “Superlatives like valedictorian were formed just for the sake of bragging rights. They’re completely unnecessary, and do little in the way of anything besides giving an individual an inflated sense of self.”  Mrs. Lester nodded along, clearly impressed at his humility.  From: Phil so you don’t care if you don’t get it? From: Dan Please. You’d have to rip that title out of my cold, dead hands. "You’re so humble,“ Mrs. Lester complimented. "And smart. Phil, you should take notes.” She turned to Dan, holding a hand up as if that would keep Phil from hearing her words. “Phil really is smart, but he just doesn’t try. I worry for him.” Dan played along, shielding his words from Phil with a hand. “I don’t think you have to worry. Phil actually gets pretty good grades.”  From: Phil Liar "And I think if he tried, he could get into film school.“ Dan added.  Phil’s eyes widened.  "Phil!” His mother announced in shock. “Film school?”  "It was just an idea,“ Phil tried to defend. "I wouldn’t actually-”  "You need to get a degree in business,“ she reprimanded. "Like your father. And like Martyn.”  "Mum, I-“  "Listen to me, because this is important! Business school is the only way to make money in this economy, and you need to-”  From: Dan Sorry– "Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to… set her off like that. I just thought she knew.“  Phil sighed, unbuttoning his shirt. "It’s fine. She’s just…. passionate.”  Dan nodded, sitting on Phil’s bed. “So. Business school?”  He snorted. “Nope, not on my radar. I want to go to film school, and she’ll just have to accept that.” He smiled smalley. “This way, she can start getting accustomed to the idea.”  Dan nodded again, pulling his own shirt off and tossing it to the side carelessly. “What’ll you do with it? Make movies or something?” Phil shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve always kinda wanted to be a weather man, but…”  "'Warm and sunny with a small blizzard’“ Dan quoted from the school’s monthly news. "You had the charisma, that’s for sure. Maybe not the math…” "You don’t know,“ Phil chided playfully. "Maybe we’ll wake up tomorrow to two feet of snow!”  "You’re crazy,“ Dan laughed playfully, pulling down his pants, being careful with the boot.  "Maybe.” Phil looked out the window at the night sky, as if looking for signs of snow. “I heard of this thing. It’s called 'video blogging’.”  Dan tossed his pants to the side, climbing into Phil’s bed familiarly. “Yeah? Like, blogging about your life… but as a video?”  Phil nodded. “I don’t know if I could ever make money from it, but it’d be cool to try. What do you think? Would you try?” He crawled in bed next to Dan, pulling up the covers around his midsection.  Dan just laughed. “Nah, film isn’t for me. I’m going to study law. That’s where my future is.”  Phil nodded in acceptance. “I guess. But who knows? Maybe YouTube will blow up one day.”  Dan smiled. “And maybe tomorrow there will be a blizzard. I guess it’s possible.”  With that, they curled up together, the blankets and their shared body heat keeping them warm. Dan reached out slowly, and clasped Phil’s hand.  "I want this,“ he whispered. "Yeah?”  "Yeah.“ - Neither had the foresight to set an alarm. But it didn’t matter. Because when they woke up, they were greeted with the news that school was closed- due to the two feet of snow that had fallen as they slept. 

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[etn-story-archive]

Enter the Nomicon - Chapter 7: You Know What?

.

"Dude, I said I'm OKAY."

It had been the hundredth time that Howard had asked Randy if he was okay.

"Well then, stop acting like a chowder head."

"I'm not acting like a chowder head, you shoob!"

By then, Nomi had ignored the two as he quietly finished tending to his leg. The bandages only numbed the pain, but it was good enough.

Howard turned to the redhead and glared at him silently. He had decided not to even bother picking a fight with the book, as it was obvious he would most likely lose. Snorting, he turned his attention back to his bro, who was lying on his back, glowering angrily at the ceiling (it was actually kind of cute). Sighing with irritation, Howard apologized.

"Okay Cunningham, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to call you the biggest shoob in all of Norrisville, okay?"

Randy turned his head to Howard and smirked. "Alright, alright, don't get all sappy and stuff dude!"

Howard rolled his eyes.

Nomi siphoned a shaky sigh. “We need to go now before anyone comes back."

Both Randy and Howard looked at Nomi; they had forgotten he was in the room.

"Let’s see if you can walk."

Randy readied to lift himself off the desk, but stopped when horrible pain shot up his torso. He sucked in a painful breath before dropping back to the desk. 

Nomi furrowed his brows. He walked up to Randy. Before he could offer to help, Randy swung his legs off the edge of the desk and tried to stand on his own feet. He winced when more pain spiked through his entire body. Staggering slightly, he took a few steps.

“Y-yeah, I think I can."

"Are you sure?"

Randy nodded. "Yeah dude, I'm sure."

While the two conversed, Howard had searched for Randy's discarded shirt. As soon as he found it, he cringed. There was a gaping hole where a ring of fresh blood surrounded it. Howard looked away from the shirt and tossed it to Randy.

With Nomi's help he was able to slide it on. Randy swallowed dryly, looking down at his bloody shirt. If his mother saw the wound, she would freak. (Also, he hoped Nomi wouldn't notice that he had just accidentally swallowed the now flavorless leaves.) There had been times where Randy had come home with bruises, and that alone had worried his mother immensely.

Knitting his brows in worry, he spoke up.

"H-hey, Nomi?"

"Yes?" He looked up as he was sliding his jeans back on.

"You think you can help me sneak into my room? I don't want my mom to freak out because of, uh, this..." Randy pointed to his bloodied shirt. 

Nomi shook his head in agreement. "Okay. So that means we'll have to get to your house by foot then?"

Randy blinked as he thought for a brief second. "Yeah. I guess."

...

Both Randy and Nomi hobbled through the empty halls of the slowly collapsing school. Howard slowed his walking and began walking closer to Randy. He kept an eye on Nomi. That unsettling feeling he felt when the taller male gave him a dark look after he caught Howard staring at Randy's butt returned. It made Howard more uncomfortable than his dust allergy made him.

Howard had nearly tripped when the two suddenly stopped walking. Randy limped over to a shattered window and peered through while Nomi stood still, listening. 

In the distance, they all could hear the oncoming sirens of both police cars and white hospital vans. News vans were trailing behind, no doubt.

It was clear to Nomi that at the slow pace they were going, it wouldn't be long before the police or the vultures of reporters stumbled upon them. They would look suspicious, and it would only cause them more trouble than they needed.

Though he had to take it easy on his leg, Nomi knew that it was dire that they got away from the school immediately, so without thinking twice, Nomi scooped up Randy in his arms, bridal style. Randy let out a surprised yelp, looking up at Nomi in shock and surprise, but didn't protest the action.

"We have to get out of here now, or we'll look suspicious. At this rate they'll find us easily. We'll just have to go through a different way." Nomi was biting back the urge to let out a groan from the pain in his leg. He quietly began his way to the opposite door at the other side of the school.

Howard looked through the window one last time before dashing after Nomi, who took off in an awkward jog.

"Slow down you shoob!"

Randy looked on behind them through the hard downpour as news vans quickly joined police cars and blaring white hospital vans.

They slowed down once they were nearly a block away. 

Nomi let out a sigh. The rain had soaked through their clothes, and he was certain Randy's bandages were slowly becoming a pile of mush (if they weren't already). His leg hurt and he nearly dropped Randy more times than he would have liked, but he wasn't taking any chances of letting Randy walk on his own. They needed to get back to Randy's house before things got even worse.

Randy shivered. The rain soaked him to the bone, and it was freezing despite it being so close to summer. He could actually see his own breath. He made brief eye contact with Howard, who gave him a small smile, before Nomi took off on another spry jog.

Howard had tried to keep up with the fast ginger, but the rain made it extremely difficult, as it blurred his vision greatly. The only thing that kept Howard from getting lost in the torrent of rain was Randy's deep purple hair, and Nomi's fiery red one.

When the three neared Randy's home they realized it would be extremely difficult to get inside without the elder Cunningham noticing them. However, before they could make up some sort of plan, the front door swung open.

...

The house was silent. It had begun raining sometime after Randy and Nomi left for school. After much debating, she had called in sick, having a very awkward and reluctant conversation with Viceroy and McFist. At the very least she hadn't actually lied about being sick. She felt like hammers were pounding away in her head, and in all honesty, she wasn't in the mood or condition to deal with McFist or Viceroy. Really, she didn't want to deal with anyone at the moment.

Deciding to relax and just watch TV, Ruby had made herself a cup of herbal tea. She knew it would help her migraine, but the bitter taste was also something she had been craving.

Plopping down on the plush black couch (black, because Randy always spilled McCola on their old white one), Ruby flipped on the flat-screen TV. She frowned. The first thing that came up was the dreaded news channel. Quickly switching to a different channel, she was met with more news. Again she changed the channel to find even more news. Ruby's brows creased as she read the headline that was both above and below the TV.

"LIVE- 100 Foot Monster Nearly Destroys High School. Ninja possibly injured? New Ally? Sidekick? Stay Inside—"

Ruby didn't read the rest as she felt a nauseating feeling in her stomach.

A female reporter came on screen, wearing a practiced, fake smile.

"Hello, I'm Sandra Summers with today’s Action News! We're here live on the spot with Principal Slimovitz. Slimovitz, please explain what happened here?"

The usually enthusiastic, perky man looked utterly drained and exhausted, and he spoke in such a monotone voice that it made him seem like he was a completely different man altogether.

"Y-yes, hello everyone, and Sandra. Well, it's, uh, well, very hard to explain, but I was speaking to a student, who I won't name, and told them some very...upsetting news. It angered them, and they turned into a huge monster-bull-thing. Everyone is supposed to just get out of the ninja's way, but when the ninja didn't come, we all evacuated the school." The man rubbed his temples, letting out a shaky sigh. "From the looks of it though, the ninja obviously stopped the monster student, but it looks like school will be out for at least a week, since all the buildings are sort of crumbling." 

The young woman nodded. For a brief moment seemed genuinely sorry for him.

“Thank you, Principal Slimovitz."

He nodded before breaking into sobs. He ran out of the screen and away from the scene.

Ruby's green eyes were wide as she watched intently. She felt a horrible, nagging feeling in her gut. 

Sandra Summers turned back to the screen with a slightly shaky smile.

"I just received some very shocking news. It seems a local video game store just a few blocks away captured a small part of the battle. Since it was a few blocks away, the camera only captured a few things, but it includes the last part of the fight. Here it is."

Just like the news reporter had said, the video showed the ninja and his ally fighting the monster, which oddly resembled Bash Johnson and a bull. The ninja parted away from the large monster and began climbing the side of the school, while their ally tried to fight the monster.

Ruby flinched when she watched the ally wither in pain as the monster bent his leg in an unnatural way, before being tossed into the trees. 

The monster made its way up to the roof, which surprisingly didn't collapse in on the school. The ninja was trying to stay away from the edges, then suddenly his ally appeared. For a brief moment they all stood still, before...

Ruby shrieked in horror as her son was impaled in the stomach and thrown over the roof. 

As the ninja began plummeting to the earth below, someone dove off the roof after them. The video ended, and the reporter was back on screen. 

She seemed to have tears in her eyes.

"We are still unsure if the ninja survived the fall as there are no bodies, and any blood or trace of the ninja or his ally has been washed away. This is reporter Sandra Summers of Early McNews, and we'll be back after these messages."

Once again she smiled, though this time, it seemed completely forced. 

By then Ruby had switched off the TV. Her arm hung in the air with the remote still in hand. She began shaking violently as she fought the urge to break down into sobs again. 

No. Her son needed her, and she had to be strong. She rose up, not caring that she dropped her cup of tea and spilled it all over the white carpeted floor. She raced to her room and grabbed her coat and the keys to her car. 

She ran to the door, swung it open, and froze.

In front of her on the front lawn stood a soaking wet Nomi and Howard, Nomi was carrying Randy.

They all stared at her in shock, gawking at her, much like she was to them.

"Oh my god!" She screeched as she ushered the three inside. Nomi barely managed to put Randy on the ground before Ms. Cunningham wrapped her arms tightly around Randy's shorter form. She buried her face into his hair and cried softly murmuring in between them. "Oh my...baby boy...don't-...I'm...so glad you're okay!"

Randy stared up at his mother in a silent stupor as she pulled away at arms length. She looked down at him, and wiped away the tears that had streamed down her face.

"I-I was so worried! I saw the n-news report and—oh god, I was so scared!"

Both Nomi and Howard watched in silence, unsure of what to do. While Howard stood, feeling awkward, Nomi was immersed in his own thoughts.

The fact that Ms. Cunningham hadn’t acknowledged him left an empty ache inside him. He had lost his mother when he was only five. The last time he had heard his mother's voice was so long ago. He hadn't even become his grandfather's protégé when she had passed.

Nomi stared at his feet as if they were the most interesting thing in the world. 

Finally, the woman looked down and froze, her eyes on the gaping hole in his shirt. Before Randy could begin to make an excuse, he stopped himself. He looked up and could see his mother's eyes starting to brim with tears.

"M-mom?"

Ms. Cunningham looked up at her son. His blue eyes stared up at her even brighter green ones.

"Randy..." She trailed off. This was proof, actual proof that her son truly was the Ninja, and yet...

Ruby didn't want to believe it. She couldn't.

 She shook her head.

"Lift your shirt up."

Randy hesitated a bit before lifting it up gently, revealing the bandages that had miraculously stayed on. Ruby's breath hitched. She was relieved she didn't see blood on them, most likely because Nomi had carried him.

Nomi watched. He didn't dare try to interfere. He was even holding back Howard, who wanted to rush in and help Randy. He panicked a little when the woman asked for Randy to lift his shirt up, but still, he said or did nothing, just watched.

She inspected it before she began unwrapping it carefully with one hand, while her other hand shot up to cover her mouth as she audibly gasped. The wound was stitched up, and seemed to already be healing, which was strange. It looked like it was a week old, even though it was obvious that the incident happened not even an hour ago.

She touched it cautiously, and then looked over at Nomi. He held a stoic expression. She made a mental note to thank him later. Looking away, she let out a shaky sigh, then her eyes flickered back towards her son.

“I want you three to take a hot bath and then explain to me what happened, and I want the truth." Her voice had taken a stern turn.

All three teens stared at the woman wordlessly, surprised by her words. She raised a brow at the three.

"Well? Come on. I don't want you all to catch a cold. I'm surprised none of you have gotten hypothermia already."

...

After a little help from his mother, he was able to get inside the steaming bath tub. He sat down, allowing the water to help relax his stiff muscles. He let out a deep sigh. Relief replaced the ache he felt in his stomach.

His mind went to the fact that his mother was acting so...strange. 

Was that the right word? Randy furrowed his brows, trying to connect two and two, but found it futile. He didn't understand his mother's strange behavior, and realizing he's been in the bathtub longer than he should of he began washing away all the grime and dirt from his body. He didn't even think about rubbing his wound with soap at all.

He wrinkled his nose when he realized his mother had given him her shampoo; it smelled like strawberries. It was obviously a sort of revenge for making her worry so much, and deciding not to bother his mother even more, he shrugged and scrubbed his hair with the strawberry scented shampoo. He rose up with a little difficulty, and tugged the plug, allowing the water to drain out before turning on the shower, and switching to the showerhead.

He allowed the slightly less warm water to rain down on him, washing away the sweet smelling soap. He had to admit it though, it didn't smell too bad. It was extremely girly, but still not bad.

Finally, stepping out of the shower, he began throwing on his clothes. It was his Grave Puncher pajamas. The soft polyester fiber pants felt like heaven on his legs, and the long-sleeved shirt felt a lot better than his other cold, bloody, soaking wet trademark one.

It was then that he realized he hadn't really thought of a good enough explanation. He stood for a brief moment.

They could say that they had been caught up in the battle, they got trapped and injured, but were able to escape before things got too hectic and came here. Perfect.

Before Randy left, he remembered that Nomi was going to shower. He walked over to the bath tub, rinsed it out with the shower head, and put the plug back in the drain, then proceeded to turn on the hot water till it nearly filled up the tub before switching it off. 

Randy finally began to leave the bathroom when he bumped into Nomi, who had been standing outside the room.

"Sorry, dude."

Nomi chuckled softly. "It's okay."

Before Nomi could go inside Randy spoke up. "Hey Nomi?"

The redhead turned to Randy. Randy rubbed his neck, almost embarrassed. "Uh, thanks for saving my ass back there...and for carrying me."

Nomi blinked then nodded. He gave him a small smile, though it was partially forced. "You're welcome." He turned away and walked inside before locking the door shut.

As soon as Nomi shut the door, the smile was gone. He felt the guilt well up inside him overwhelmingly. If he hadn't sparked the fight with Bash, none of this would've happened.

Sighing deeply, he decided to just drop it for now.

After the quick bath, Nomi found a pair of pajamas, obviously meant for him, neatly folded on the sink counter, along with a towel. Nomi began slipping on the soft black polyester pants, and self consciously slipped on the grey long sleeved shirt.

Nomi stood in front of the mirror, inspecting his sleeping attire. It was obvious the black pants were Randy's, as they were a bit baggy. Randy was slightly taller than him, but the grey shirt had fit him, more or less.

He wondered what Randy had come up with. Perhaps a pretty lame excuse, like they were in the bathroom and they got locked inside, and would forget to explain as to how he had gotten the small wound on his stomach. Nomi snickered at the thought, though it was slightly bitter.

...

Both Randy and Nomi stood in front of Ms. Cunningham. Howard had been picked up by his parents after he had finished showering, thus leaving Randy and Nomi to deal with Ms. Cunningham by themselves.

She had her arms crossed as she stared down at them expectantly.

"So, care to tell me what happened?"

Both Nomi and Randy looked at each other a little uneasily. Nomi turned to the tall woman who was staring at them with a stern motherly gaze. Just as Nomi was about to make an excuse, Randy surprised him as he spoke up.

"We got caught in the fight. I-I was walking and this piece of wood stabbed me. Nomi and Howard took me to a room and tried helping me. The ninja came in helped me then left. We were stuck in the room until the ninja beat the monster, and Nomi, Howard and I came home—"

"Why didn't you call me!?"

"Our phones got wet. Mine didn't want to work, Howard's was dead, and Nomi doesn't have one, so—"

"So nothing! Y-you...oh never mind. You two are grounded! For your safety, until this all clears up."

Randy gaped at her in shock. Nomi looked to him then at his mother. The two seemed torn. Nomi frowned before speaking up.

"Ms. Cunningham, honestly it's my fault. I shouldn't have—"

"No, no. I'm sorry to the both of you. Randy, Nomi please go upstairs it's just too dangerous to go outside anyways."

Randy nodded, while Nomi stared at the woman uncertainly before nodding.

"Okay Mom."

Ms. Cunningham threw herself at her son, pulling him into a tight embrace, which Randy returned. Nomi smiled slightly. It was awkward for him really, but he was glad Randy and his mother had such a close relationship.

Randy silently made his way upstairs, but before Nomi could follow, someone stopped him. He turned to look at Ms. Cunningham as she breathed out a soft, "Thank you."

“You're welcome."

Randy hadn't seen the little exchange as he stumbled up the stairs until Nomi came and tried helping him, though he himself was having a little trouble.

As soon as the door closed, Ms. Cunningham ran to her room, and finally broke out into sobs. She flopped onto her bed and grabbed the nearest pillow on her bed and cried into it.

Should she tell Randy that she knew? That he didn't have to lie? That she understood, she just worried about him, but deep down she knew she couldn't. It was up to Randy if he wanted to tell her about his alter ego as the ninja.

...

Randy silently climbed up the ladder of his loft bed. Nomi threw his large gym bag onto Randy's bed as he climbed up after him. Nomi winced as soon as he put a little pressure on his leg. It was like fire had engulfed it. Still, he didn't pay it much heed as he sat across from Randy and began digging through the black bag.

Randy watched as his roommate sorted through his things and instantly looked worried. He began rummaging through the bag, throwing out a few school supplies, pulling out his suit and cape, neatly folding them, and a few other things. 

Relieved, Nomi pulled out the MP3 player and was even more relieved to find that the rain hadn't ruined the little device. He looked over at his cape and plucked his relic from its usual spot at the chest, and turned it into an amulet and placed it around his neck.

Randy raised a brow when Nomi put one ear bud in his ear. Wasn't he going to scold him for getting himself hurt? Some big lesson he needed to learn? Randy's train of thought was broken when an extended hand offered him an ear bud. He looked up at Nomi, who gave him a soft chuckle.

"We'll talk in a minute. Just relax first."

It was as if he had read Randy's mind, but Randy didn't care as he grabbed the ear bud and placed it in his ear. 

For a good hour and a half they had listened through the songs, this time in comfortable silence. It wasn't until Nomi spoke up did he finally turn it off.

Instantly, Randy removed the ear bud and sat anxious to hear what his teacher had to say.

"I'm sorry."

Randy blinked. "Huh?"

"I said I'm sorry. If I had better controlled my own emotions, Bash wouldn't have gotten stanked and none of this would've happened."

"What the honkin' juice are you talking about, Nomi!? I should be sorry. I got stabbed because I wasn't paying attention, and—"

"No, you did fine. We need to work on a few things, but you did a near flawless job, especially since Bash was at least one hundred feet tall, an extremely powerful adversary."

Randy shook his head. "Nomi, don't be such a chowder head. I told you, it wasn't your fault..."

Nomi sighed. "I suppose you should rest now, so I'll just—"

Randy quickly stopped him. "H-hey! Dude, your leg!"

Nomi raised a brow and looked at his leg. He had wrapped more bandages around his injured leg after his shower. "What?"

"You don't have to leave...you can sleep with me. I'm fine with that, and it's going to honkin' hurt like hell when you try to climb down."

Nomi looked at him dubiously as he ran a hand through his red locks. "A-are you sure?"

Randy nodded.