Work Text:
Cyrus furiously typed on his phone as he walked through the emptying halls of Grant High School. “Still good for today?” was the text he’d gotten from his boyfriend fifteen minutes ago.
Things had been chaotic lately. Not between the two of them, but because of a growing pile of school assignments and an accident at the Kippen house.
TJ’s father had dropped their upright piano on his foot while moving it, leading to several ice packs, an eventual trip to the emergency room, and a scheduled surgery. There wasn’t any permanent damage, but the doctors said the bones wouldn’t heal properly without a procedure.
Cyrus had been doing his best to help out, but TJ’s parents had insisted he not worry about it. Which led to him and his boyfriend focusing on school.
“Yes,” he was typing back. “I’ll be out front in 10. I need to get the packet from Matthews.” He turned a corner and entered a classroom. “Mr. Matthews?” he asked aloud. A 40-year-old man looked up from his computer screen and smiled, grateful to see a student that wasn’t in his room to cause trouble. “Do you still have extra copies of the assignment?”
“Of course!” The man reached across his desk and grabbed a fifteen-page packet of guidelines and rubrics. For people that liked to preach eco-friendly habits so much, teachers sure liked to waste paper.
Cyrus sighed internally. “Are you sure you want the project done by Friday?” he asked, staring at the pages that were now in his hands.
“Yes, Sir! But, between you and me,” he leaned forward on his elbows, “I’m sure you won’t have to put in that much effort to make it look presentable. Especially with TJ as your partner.” He gave him a knowing smile. “You two don’t overthink it, okay?”
“We’ll try, Sir.” Cyrus smiled back. “But no promises.” The man waved goodbye as he left the classroom and walked back down the hall.
The teen only made it a few doors down before being stopped by a voice. “Cyrus!”
He turned to see another student jogging after him. “Oh, hey, Harris. What’s up?”
The other boy pulled at his backpack straps. “Are you still interested in the student-directed plays?” He had to keep pace with Cyrus, who had started walking down the hall again.
“You mean the ones I tried to be a part of but wasn’t picked to help-”
“Katie got a new job,” Harris Gurney cut him off with an energetic tone. “And now she can’t spend as much time editing and managing the scripts.”
“So…” Cyrus pulled his backpack to his front and shoved his assignment inside. “You need me to fill her spot?”
“Not completely- we would just need you to read over things and add blocking…” Harris went on to provide a complete in-depth description of the directing position. By the time they made it out of the building, Cyrus thought Harris had recited a complete, prewritten manuscript most likely titled ‘Student Directing for Dummies’.
He stopped and held a hand out at the boy, cutting off his chatter. “Look, Harris, I’d love to read over some stuff for you guys, but I got a lot of work from my classes today, and I really don’t have time for anything else. If you want to send it to me this weekend, I’d be more than happy to get some editing done for you. But right now, I’m meeting-” A loud engine cut him off.
He whirled around to see a black motorcycle pull up to the curb in front of him. The rider parked and put the kickstand down, dusting off his gloved hands after dismounting. He took off his helmet and smiled at the pair, clearly proud of the entrance he made. His hair was slightly disheveled from the helmet being pressed to his head. “Sorry if I kept you waiting. I parked in the back this morning and people do not know how to take turns at a four-way stop.”
Cyrus gaped at his boyfriend. “TJ, why do you-?”
“Dad’s recovering from the surgery, so he let me use his bike.” He walked to the back and opened the top box, pulling out another helmet. “Now come on, put your bag in. This English project won’t get itself done.”
Cyrus beamed at him. “Right.” He waved back at Harris, who was standing with his mouth open, staring at the motorcycle. Several other students also had their eyes fixed on them. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Harris.” He slid on the helmet and sat on the bike.
Then a realization. “Um, TJ?” He suddenly grew weary, feeling the sides of the seat for something that didn’t seem to be there. “Why isn’t there a seatbelt?”
The basketball captain sat in front of him and made to put his helmet back on. “Oh, don’t worry about it. I’ve ridden on the back a million times with my dad. You’ll be okay.” He reached back and pulled Cyrus’ arms around his waist. “Just hold on tight.”
Cyrus rolled his eyes and locked his fingers together, creating a death grip around his boyfriend. He rested his helmet covered forehead against his back. “Sure. No problem.”
TJ started the engine and they took off down the road, leaving a very stunned Harris Gurney behind.