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High school was never going to be easy on Logan. He was textbook nerd, even though he’d be the first to very pointedly tell you that there was no one way to look or act like a nerd and that stereotypes could be very damaging and he’d thank you not to pigeonhole him so quickly.
Unfortunately reactions like that didn’t exactly help. He was just so determined to make the world a better place, to correct the misconceptions of his naive, ignorant and frankly, often deluded peers. He didn’t have time to sugarcoat things, or try and win them over with friendship and trifles like trying to fit in.
Logan couldn’t think of anything worse.
It was a perspective fostered by his dads through years of homeschooling, which… wasn’t not another reason why the odds were stacked against him on day one of Actual School. They’d tried their best to prepare him for the reality of entering mainstream education at such an awkward age, but he’d still turned to them as they stood waiting to wave him off- in his slacks and tucked-in button down shirt and tie, hair slicked carefully back so it wouldn’t get in his eyes while he worked- and seriously informed them that he was sure this would be as easy as algebra, before giving them a little bow and walking off confidently towards his first day. They were fairly sure it was going to take him a while to forgive them for this when he discovered the truth.
That was something along the lines of what Logan was thinking at second break, sat in a stairwell with his packed lunch and trying to hold his head up high. The entire morning had been supposed to be fairly straightforward; go to the reception and collect timetable and map. Go to homeroom and introduce self to the teacher and discuss timetable and the pile of questions he’d compiled of Important Things To Know. Go to first class and collect books and-
He hadn’t got past homeroom. The teacher had been too busy filing something for the new year to answer his questions and when he’d sat down where he’d been absently told to, nose wrinkling at the lack of organisation, another student had leaned over to loudly ask who he was. Logan had tried to explain, but apparently the words ‘home schooled’ were like a beacon for bullying and, like predators sensing a weakened prey, he’d been surrounded in moments. His sheet of questions had been on the desk and was grabbed before he could hold onto it.
No one said anything overtly nasty, of course, because that would be actual bullying and they weren’t like that. Thankfully the teacher had regained control in time for Logan to lunge after the paper and tuck it away safely, and he’d been left mostly alone while she’d sorted out their various bits of admin and taken roll.
At least in the next two periods there had been too much for everyone to do for anyone to talk to him, and during first break he’d rationalised that it was probably best to hide in the bathroom just in case.
And now, second break, he’d wanted to hide in the bathroom again but a group of big, scary jocks had burst in and started loudly playing around, banging on the doors and cackling wildly at each other’s antics, so he’d been forced to escape.
Logan sniffed. No, he didn’t think he was ever going to forgive his parents for this. He picked the apple out of his lunchbox- Doctor Who themed- and after a moment gave in to the urge to throw it angrily down the corridor, where it bounced wetly and the unevenly rolled for a bit… right past another boy coming out of a classroom partway down the hall.
Oh no. Logan stood up quickly, clutching his lunch with wide eyes as the boy- who looked to be in his year too- looked first at the apple and then inevitably over at him. There was a pause and then the boy seemed to connect the dots. He went to pick the apple up and checked it over, making a face and disappearing back into the classroom he’d come from for a moment. Logan leaned to try and watch him but lost sight, until he popped back out and headed straight for him. Oh double no.
“Hey, I think this got away from you?” Came the cheerful shout. The boy held the apple out as he approached, grinning broadly. Logan cringed back away from him and the boy frowned, glancing down at the fruit before his expression cleared. “Oh! Yeah, it’s a bit bruised, I wouldn’t want it either to be honest. Here, I meant to- wait a sec…”
He pulled up the backpack he’d grabbed from the classroom and fumbled at it with one hand before dropping into a crouch so he could put the ruined apple on the floor and rummage in his bag, pulling out a much nicer looking one. “Here! Have this instead!”
“… What?” Logan asked uncertainly. “You’re giving me your food?”
“Yeah!” The boy chirped, looking delighted with himself.
Logan frowned. “I didn’t ask you to do that!” It made the boy wilt a little bit, glancing at this apple too, as though trying to figure out what about it was making Logan refuse the gesture.
“Uh, no, you didn’t. I offered?” He tried again, and Logan nearly stamped his foot in frustration.
“I just mean, why would you just offer? You don’t know me!”
The boy brightened again, and it was a little bit nice. “Oh, sure! Well, I’m Roman. And I don’t actually like apples that much, but my mom packs them all the time, and you looked real sad that you’d lost yours, so I figured it just made sense! Doesn’t… it?”
Logan thought it over. “It seems logically sound, yes. I’m Logan, if we’re exchanging names.”
“Great! Do you want to come and sit in the room while I practice my monologue? I have special permission to be inside and it’s much more comfortable than the staircase, I bet. You can be my audience!”
Roman bounced a little on his feet as he waited for Logan to decide, cheering when Logan nodded. “Great, let’s go!”
Logan found himself smiling a little bit as he gathered his things and followed. Maybe Roman- chatty, nice Roman- would even answer his sheet of questions for him.