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High school years were, unanimously, one of the most miserable periods in any teenager’s life, if not the most. Lance certainly thought the latter, as he grumpily scooted over to the last row of chairs in the Maths classroom and plonked his backpack onto the desk in the far-right corner of the room. Senior year started off as boring as ever, yet the young Canadian has already had enough of the academia world. Bending down to get out his notebook and pen, Lance suddenly felt someone smack him lightly on the back of his head which prompted the teenager to whip his head up rapidly.
“Oi Vandoorne, cut it out,” grumbled Lance in the direction of the mischievously beaming Belgian who took his usual place behind the desk next to Lance’s.
“Someone has to snatch you out of your usual morning grumpiness,” retorted Stoffel as he too got out his calculus books. “What is it today? Angry at the whole world,” he leaned in, the mischievous smile growing wider, “or just a particular exchange student going by the name that very much rhymes with ‘gay’?
Lance spluttered and quickly looked around the steadily crowded classroom, making sure nobody overheard his dumb friend’s retort.
“Say it louder, will you? I don’t think they’ve heard you in Russia itself,” Lance hissed through his teeth, picking up his textbook and raising it as if to smack Stoffel on the shoulder.
“Well if they haven’t then they’d officially be the last ones to know, because let me tell you – the whole class knows about your little crush already,” Stoffel continued gloating, however made sure to scrape his chair further away from Lance’s reach.
“W-What?!” But Lance didn’t get a chance to fully process the sudden revelation, because it was at that exact moment that the bell rang, indicating the start of the afternoon classes. Mister Alonso, their math teacher, walked into the classroom just as the last ringing sound echoed in the halls and shut the door behind himself.
As mister Alonso began to recite the equations they covered in the previous lesson, Lance bent over to Stoffel’s desk and whispered quickly:
“When you say ‘the whole class’ knows-“
“I mean the whole class,” Stoffel smirked knowingly, and made a pointed nod accompanied by raised eyebrows towards the figure slouching in the middle of leftmost row. Lance gulped and hesitantly followed his friend’s gesture with his gaze.
He wouldn’t say his crush was a desperate one. So what, if from the very first day he spotted the new exchange student in the school cafeteria he never managed to completely extract him from his thoughts?
At first Lance ‘blamed’ it on the supposed exotic nature of having a foreign student come all the way across the ocean to study at their school for a year. But deep down, when having a conversation with himself, he knew that it really was the quiet yet warm aura of the Russian boy that drew Lance to him.
Oh, and his smile, definitely. Lance would swear on his own life that Sergey had the most heart-warming, welcoming and handsome smile in all this universe.
“Staring much?”
Lance blinked, Stoffel’s voice dragging his thoughts back to reality. Yup, he definitely has been staring at Sergey for the past minute or so. The Russian, thankfully, didn’t seem to notice, too wound up in his meticulous notetaking (that Lance secretly found very adorable).
“Piss off,” Lance couldn’t come up with anything better than grumpily insulting his best friend yet again, and it, surprisingly, did the trick. Stoffel shrugged his shoulders and turned back to his notebook, starting to doodle something in the top corner of the page.
The lesson continued, with mister Alonso droning on and on about subtractions and multi-equations and whatnot – Lance never paid much attention in the actual classes, knowing that he’s much better at understanding the material when he goes through it himself at home. Of course, it was not a critique of Fernando’s teaching technique – Lance knew better than hate on the adoptive father of his best friend, didn’t he?
Towards the end of the 55-minute period, Lance received a jab to his ribs from Stoffel’s side and turned to face his friend. Stoffel beamed and sneakily passed him the page he’s been doodling on. Lance inspected it, and as he did, he felt his cheeks colouring up with a warm blush.
Stoffel has doodled an exquisite heart adorned with lace and flowers, inside of which were cursive renditions of Lance’s and Sergey’s names.
Lance quickly crumbled the paper into his fist and shoot Stoffel an attempt at an angry look, however failing miserably as he could not stop blushing. His friend stifled a laugh, but a second later he allowed himself to chuckle freely as the bell have rung, indicating the end of the period.
Their classmates sprung up to pack their bags and Lance noticed out of the corner of his eye that Sergey was taking his time putting away his books.
“I don’t have a chance with him anyways,” murmured Lance dejectedly to nobody in particular. Sergey, no matter how sweet and quiet he was, had a very welcoming presence and deserved only the best treatment. Lance wasn’t sure that an awkward Canadian from a filthy rich family who’s detested by half of the school for that very reason is the best match for such a kind soul.
“Chance with whom, papito?”
Lance jumped, while Stoffel could be heard producing something between a chuckle and a groan at the same time.
Mister Alonso had approached their desks, as they were the last two students left in the classroom. Sergey has too already left.
“Nothing, sir-“
“He has a hu-u-uge crush on the new Russian kid, dad!”
Lance could swear he would’ve actually killed Stoffel right there right now, if it wasn’t for his dad standing nearby.
“Oh, dios mios!” Fernando clapped his hands in delight, leaning back to prop himself up against a nearby desk. “Poor papito, filled with the trembles of love-e-e!”
Lance groaned, hiding his face in his palms and silently wishing for the grounds of hell to open and swallow him whole.
“No fretting, mi querido,” Fernando’s sweet-laced voice sounding above his left year did nothing to give Lance either tranquillity or confidence. “Listen to old Fernando, I know just the way to woo whatever young soul it is you’re after! Now where does he or she live because I’ll need to arrange a guitar band and a wagon of 100 roses.”
Stoffel roared with laughter and, a second later, losing his balance crashed onto the floor after slipping off the chair that he was propping against. Lance spluttered and blushed furiously, wrangling himself from beneath Fernando’s embrace – all accompanied by continued croaking sounds that resembled a screech of a dying cockatoo.
“Mister Alo- I-I mean, Fernando,” damn, it was hard trying to find the right words when your brain was refusing to let go of the spitting image of your best friend’s father plastered on the ground in front of his house on one knee, singing a very cheesy serenade off-key to his husband Jenson, while a group of old, confused Mexican musicians is standing to the side, covered in red roses.
Gulping, Lance opened his mouth again.
“I, of course, appreciate your help and concern, but I don’t think it’s necessary. That is,” he was quick to add, “I hardly believe the object of my desires will ever return my feelings…”
Fernando furrowed his brows, then, suddenly, chuckled.
“Even when they left a note on their desk that clearly has your name written on it, no?”
Shooting his head up, Lance darted his eyes to Sergey’s desk, not stopping to question how on earth Fernando knew about his crush (later, of course, he’ll realise that Stoffel’s mouth has no ‘stop’ function).
There, in the centre of the washed-out wooden desk, laid a folded piece of lined paper that did, indeed, carry his name written in the curliest cursive possible.
Feeling his breath hitch a little, Lance rushed to pick up the paper as if fearing it will disappear if he didn’t.
Upon unfolding it, he saw an array of numbers written in a single line. At first he thought it was a cruel joke and that Sergey just left his math notes for him to taunt him, but then his shocked brain caught on to what was happening.
Sergey left him his number. And a kiss in the corner of the paper.
Not minding the expectant Fernando and Stoffel, Lance made a beeline for the exit, running out of the classroom as if his back was on fire.
The main hallway was largely empty, most students having gone for their lunch break to the cafeteria hall or outside benches.
“Hey,” suddenly, a soft voice called from behind him. Lance turned, breathing raggedly.
Sergey was standing near the announcement board, visibly nervous as he was playing with the strap of his red backpack.
“H-Hi,” replied Lance, waving awkwardly at his classmate. After a second he braved to do a couple of steps towards the Russian, stopping an arm-length away from him. “So…”
“So,” Sergey seemed to agree, letting out a small, shy smile. “I just thought, you know… Useful.”
With that, he pointed at the piece of paper clutched between Lance’s fingers. The younger boy blinked, then decided that two can play this game, and smiled.
“There are easier and less ‘mysterious’ ways of exchanging numbers, you know.”
Sergey blushed furiously and immediately looked down at his feet, looking abashed.
“Oh I.. Of course sorry I-“ He started mumbling, embarrassment clear in his shaking voice. Sergey squared his shoulders as if trying to shy away from Lance, but the Canadian quickly interrupted him, waving his arms.
“Wait, I’m pulling your leg! I thought, a joke… Okay never mind, what I meant to say actually was, thank you, I appreciate it.”
Now both teenagers were sporting a bright blush and flustered expressions. Silence fell between and around them, and Sergey reached to scratch at his neck.
“I think I’ll go-“
“Doyouwantgoparkwithme?”
Sergey blinked, and Lance replied in fashion, too shocked and embarrassed by his sudden burst.
“Do not understand,” softly offered the Russian, his accent suddenly thick and his troubles with foreign language still evident.
Lance inhaled deeply, realising there now was no way out of this.
“I thought… Maybe you fancy to go hang out together? In the park maybe, or somewhere else…?”
The Canadian exhaled, looking into Sergey’s eyes but mentally willing to be running away from here as fast as possible, in the fear of rejection.
After a couple of seconds of silence, when, Lance guessed, the exchange student was quickly trying to translate the proposition into his mother tongue, Sergey’s face lit up with an open, toothy smile.
“Yes, sounds… cool?”
The last word was said with more of a question, like he wasn’t sure he was using the correct vocabulary, accepted by his peers.
Lance felt himself easily smiling in return, and he nodded. Next, he quickly fished out his phone from his pocket and typed in the number written on the paper. Immediately Sergey’s backpack’s pocket buzzed with a notification and the Russian laughed, reaching to get out his respective smartphone.
[From: Unknown Number]
If we go – can you teach me some cool Russian words? :)
Sergey let out another laugh, before sneaking a glance at Lance (which totally did not made the younger boy’s stomach do a triple flip) and typed away something on his screen. Lance’s phone chirped with a message.
[From: Russian Sunshine]
Заметано, красавчик ;)
(Rus. "Deal, good-looking" - a/n)
“Wait hang on, I’m not ready yet!” Lance went to argue half-heartedly. “What does this mean?”
Sergey smiled softly, yet now there was a hint of something almost flirtatious there. “We’ll find out, yeah?”
Lance couldn’t help but smile in return. “Yeah, guess we will.” He looked over to his wristwatch. “You want to grab a bite before next bell?”
Sergey cocked his head in confusion. Ah, yet another language barrier to be broken.
“Food?” Lance made a move like he was biting a sandwich. Sergey nodded immediately, straightening up and adjusting his backpack.
“Then – to the cafeteria we go! Their sandwiches are decent but stay away from the jelly at all times, it’s chemicals and nothing else, I’ll show you…”
Babbling away, the two youngsters started walking down the hall, chattering excitedly between themselves. Sometimes Lance will stop when he’d realise that Sergey cannot translate his quick speech and thick Canadian accent, and he’ll patiently explain and repeat the sentence, basking in the excitement lighting up Sergey’s face whenever the meaning finally did hit him.
Behind them, poking their heads from inside math’s classroom, Stoffel suppressed his giggles, nevertheless being super happy for his best friend who finally got his head out of the gutter.
“I still think a passionate serenade would do an espléndido deal!”
Fernando was still bitter than nobody ever seemed to take up his dating advice seriously.