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There are constants to life at the academy.
Edna’s food is inedible. Crabblesnitch gives off an uncomfortably sexual vibe but is ultimately harmless. Danvers will sell your soul to Satan for one glance from the headmaster. The fire alarm goes off but there’s never actually a fire.
All constants. Frequent to the point of no longer being noteworthy.
Understanding that, the fire alarm going off isn’t something uniquely special on its own. It goes off, on average, thirteen times a week. Sometimes one after the other, shrill ringing breaking through the relative quiet of what is otherwise a pretty calm campus these days.
In its frequency, it’s become a normality of Bullworth life. You don’t want to go to class; you pull the fire alarm. You need to talk to somebody but you don’t want to hunt them down; you pull the fire alarm. You’re bored; you pull the fire alarm.
Living at the academy teaches you to ignore it. Usually, you can even manage to block it out entirely, unaware of it’s presence until someone else brings it up after the fact.
Usually, it’s not two in the fucking morning on a Tuesday.
The abrupt break in silence has him jolting awake, hand immediately seeking out the solid warmth of Gary beside him in the dark. His fingers find Gary’s chest first, naked and moving slowly with his breath as he miraculously remains asleep.
The little bundle constantly knotted in Pete’s chest unfurls just a little at the confirmation that Gary is here and breathing. It’s enough that he can slowly get his own breathing back under control, using the thudding of his heart against his chest to keep time.
From outside the room, he starts to hear the sound of other boys running out of the dorm. Their shadows pass quickly under the crack of the door as they mumble, unhappy and confused at the late night interruption.
There’s no unspoken rule among the boys when it comes to this but it’s generally understood that there’s some sort of cut-off to pulling the alarm. He can’t think of a reason why someone would pull it this late, even as a joke.
Part of him wants to wait it out. He knows with certainty that the alarm will shut itself off automatically after a few minutes, the result of too many false alarms. Pete’s pretty sure it’s illegal and against fire codes but it’s a fact of Bullworth just as much as the alarm going off itself.
There’s temptation in the thought of curling back into Gary and hiding until the alarm stops or he falls back asleep.
The anxious part of him shoots that idea down with a sharp insistence that staying will ensure the fire is real. Testing fate is a fool’s game. It’s get out of bed for a fake fire or stay to perish to a real one. And regardless of how much that’s not how any of this works, it makes the decision easy.
He shakes Gary lightly, frowning when it just results in the other boy trying to shake him off.
“No,” Gary whines, voice heavy with sleep and sounding incredibly upset at the prospect of having to be awake. Pete feels a horrible sort of guilt gnaw at him knowing that Gary had been sleeping soundly before the alarm. It’d be the first time in a couple days and he knows Gary’s been exhausted. He’d been so relieved when his boyfriend had passed out minutes after going to bed. “Stop. ‘m so tired.”
He mulls it over, bottom lip trapped in his teeth as he thinks.
Leaving Gary in bed is an option. Pete knows deep down that the fire isn’t real. Knows this is a false alarm as a result of faulty wiring or someone stumbling to the bathroom with their eyes closed. It’s stupid to drag Gary out of bed when the alarm will stop soon. No reason to make him stand outside in the cold with the rest of them for the next forty five minutes while a pissed off Danvers lectures them and Crabblesnitch looks like a tired, disappointed puppy.
His thoughts snap to an image of the building in flames with the knowledge that Gary is still inside. He thinks about a lifetime of speaking of Gary in past tense and that empty space inside of him that reemerges when they’re apart for too long.
Leaving Gary in bed is not an option.
“Please,” he begs quietly, not sure if it’s even audible over the blaring alarm. The knot tightens again, like vines wrapped around his ribs choking the breath out of him until Gary’s eyes meet his, confused and uncharacteristically alert. Pete exhales hard and stares back. The alarm continues to sound around them.
Gary pushes himself out of bed first and Pete scrambles to follow. For a moment, Gary just stands there, disoriented with one of their blankets pulled around his shoulders like a cape but Pete is no longer hesitating. He tugs the other boy out of their room insistently, shoulder slamming against the dorm door to force it open without having to let go of Gary.
The instant they stumble out with the rest of the boys, Pete can feel the chill of a fall night settle against all his bare skin and seep through his clothing. The concrete is almost painfully cold against his bare feet.
If he had been able to think, he probably would have changed into something more substantial than his sleep shorts and one of Gary’s old shirts. There had been very little on his mind once they were out of bed other than getting out.
He’s breathing again but the cold takes over the burn in his lungs.
They join the crowd of boys huddled in front of the dorm and Pete realizes Gary is much worse off. All the boys are in different states of dress but only Gary has the advantage of another body in his bed to keep him warm.
The only thing protecting Gary from the cold are his briefs and the blanket still wrapped around his shoulders. Pete feels heat pool in his cheeks. Gary may be half naked but Pete’s the one who feels exposed for it.
“Nice undies, Smith,” calls one of the greasers, a sophomore Pete can’t remember the name of. It draws the attention of the rest of the clique who whistle and catcall in turn. Pete pulls his arms around his chest, discomfort settling in.
“Fuck off,” Gary spits, voice still rough from sleep in a way that has Pete shivering for an entirely different reason. Tonight is a clusterfuck of emotions and he’s starting to feel incredibly rundown from it.
Gary tugs him closer until they’re chest to chest, wrapping the blanket tight like he’s trying to hide Pete away. It’s warm and pleasant but feels too intimate for comfort in front of the entire male population of their school.
“Thought I couldn’t get any more annoyed than that selfie you put on instagram,” Gary mumbles into the top of his head, one hand rubbing at the skin of his hip where his shorts are riding down and the other keeping the blanket secured around them.
“Shut up,” Pete groans, fingers meeting Gary’s on his hip. It’d been a stupid fight. What Pete wears to bed isn’t any more revealing than some of the outfits he wears in the summer when it’s hot and he’s feeling confident but something about it is different to Gary. He doesn’t get it.
Gary’s hand drags Pete’s with it as it travels up to brush against Pete’s chest through his shirt. He shivers despite himself, the feeling a unified mixture of pleasure and indescribably unpleasant.
“Ugh, not even a little bit in the mood for that, thank you,” he groans, pulling Gary’s hand back down to rest on his stomach. Pete’s still cold but there’s a nice heat building up between them. He feels safe.
“Sorry,” Gary says, making no attempt to fight against Pete’s redirection. He’s grinning, something Pete can feel more than see. Pete turns in his arms, settling back into the embrace as he takes in the arrival of Danvers, looking every bit as pissed as he’d imagined.
There’s silence between them, existing in the commotion of the alarm surprisingly still going off and the crickets and the angry mumbling of the boys around them as Danvers yells and Crabblesnitch calmly demands answers.
“You’re okay,” Gary says finally, softly. “The dorm isn’t on fire.”
Pete feels something like shame at the statement but Gary hums and pulls him closer. Outwardly possessive. Maybe a little inwardly too but all Pete feels is warmth.
“I’m just saying. We’re both okay.”
Which, yeah. That’s obvious. It wasn’t a real alarm; clearly something had gone wrong. An accident but nothing that put them in any real danger. Pete knew that. Had known it in bed before they’d made their exit. He knew.
Gary understood the difference between knowing and believing.
“I’m going to take care of you, no matter what,” Pete says insistently. Even if the danger isn’t real and Pete knows as well as Gary does that sometimes that’s just part of Gary taking care of Pete too.
“So you’re going to keep me warm later when I skip school to sleep, right?” Gary asks. Pete feels him laughing and hears the underlying question in the joke. The answer is no, almost always. Very little convinces Pete not to badger Gary out of bed and even less has him joining in.
“Just today because you need it,” he answers with an air of finality. Gary hums again, pleased about getting his way like Pete isn’t weak for his happiness enough to give in more than he should.
“And then when we wake up, I’ll warm you up to show you just how much I appreciate you taking care of me,” Gary adds, lear audible in the promise. Pete shivers again despite being thoroughly warmed by their shared body heat.
He scoffs.
“Yeah, we’ll see about that, punk.” It’s meant to be a dismissal.
He feels Gary laughing again and knows he’s already given in.