Chapter Text
‘… Best regards, George .’ He signed off the message he was writing to his Great Aunt Edith, his scrunched up brows finally starting to relax. His mother had been pestering him about the letter for over a week and he had just now gotten to it. It’s not like he didn’t like his Aunt Edith or didn’t want to write her back, it was just that, in all honesty, he had other things he’d much rather be doing.
Between the constantly noisy house and the school courtyard at lunch time, George for some reason chose to write his message sat hunched over on one of the school benches, while his classmates played and ran around him. And he’d soon come to regret this decision, seeing as there was a ball flying right at him, hitting him straight in the face, making him lose his grip on the inkwell in his hand. That earned him a brand new stain right in the middle of the right leg of his trousers.
Now, George usually wasn’t one for dramatics, but seeing as it was his only presentable pair of slacks that just got ruined, he let out quite the screech.
Unfortunately for him, that attracted the attention of the teacher standing by the entrance of the school, who also, even more unfortunately so, happened to be his homeroom teacher.
“George Norbert Founders! Is this how a proper gentleman is supposed to act?! This type of behavior will not be tolerated! Come here at once.”
With the world’s longest sigh, George got up, putting the letter between the pages of the book he was using as support under the piece of paper.
“No, Mrs. Lewis, I am to blame here! This wasn’t his fault.” Startled, George looked up at the direction of the voice. Standing in front of their teacher was none other than his classmate, Clayton Wyllie Takenn. Otherwise known as the most popular guy in their year and the bane of his existence, since they were constantly competing for the title of ‘smartest kid in the class’. He wore a serious, confident expression and his body language clearly showed he wasn’t backing down on this matter.
“Very well.” Mrs. Lewis said calmly. Clay visibly relaxed, for reasons unbeknownst to George. He couldn’t figure out why exactly the blonde boy was defending him and he wasn’t likely to ever find out. Or so he thought.
“Both of you are to spend the next two hours in the Detention room.” The teacher announced nonchalantly, like she hadn’t just uttered the most dreadful words. The other boy is no stranger to the Detention room, he particularly lived there! But George... he’s only ever heard tales of it. And to be honest, he’d rather not have to experience it for himself. Seeing as he’s given no choice, though…he headed the direction of the door.
With Mrs. Lewis leading the way and the two boys following silently behind, the only audible sounds were the muted laughter coming from outside and the three pairs of footsteps echoing through the empty hall. Seeming to have arrived at their destination, the teacher stopped and pulled out a rusty black key, aiming it at the keyhole of the Detention room door. The slow creak with which the door opened sure helped build the suspense.
Behind the door was an itty bitty room with white painted walls and no windows. The only scary thing about it was the awful stench of mold coming from inside and the dirty floor, which looked like it hadn’t been swept in years… and maybe the darkness. But the smell and dust were worse, George swore! It’s not like he’s scared of the dark, don’t be ridiculous! Before he could examine it any further he felt a push from behind, shoving him into the small closet. No need to observe, he guessed, he’s going to have to get acquainted with the tiny space anyway.
“I will be taking that.” The teacher said grabbing the book from his hand. He hoped the letter would still be intact when he got it back. With both boys inside, Mrs. Lewis shut the door. “Behave.” She ordered, muffled by the wooden door between them. Following that was silence and her gradually quieting footsteps. Left alone with the other boy, George couldn’t even take a proper look around. The room was completely engulfed in darkness, with only a sliver of light coming from the crack at the bottom of the door. Soon enough his eyes would adjust to the dark, he thinks. Or rather, hopes.
“I’m going to sit down.” Announced Clay, shifting a hand to rest on George's shoulder to better coordinate inside the small room, he guessed.
“On the floor? In this dirty closet?” George asks, the surprise and disgust probably evident in his voice.
“We’ll be here for a while, might as well. Your legs will get tired, you should probably sit too.” The taller said quietly, but as confidently as ever. He probably knew better, with his abundance of previous experiences in here. George didn’t need any further convincing, taking his seat directly next to the other. Not that he had much of a choice, with how small the room actually was. If he did he would most likely choose to put some more space between the two of them. He could feel how close they were sitting even if they weren’t actually touching. As if that alone wasn’t enough to create an awkward atmosphere, the silence in the dark little room was almost deafening.
George had his hands resting atop his knees, which were propped up in front of his chest. Deciding to try shifting his position he let his arms rest, his hands ending up at his sides. Suddenly something soft and warm touched his left hand and he let out a squeak, promptly retrieving his whole arm as if it was burned.
“That was an accident, I am sorry! It was just my hand. Nothing to be scared of, really.” George could hear the sheepish smile in his voice. He had nothing to say to that, but much to think about, apparently. If he wasn’t preoccupied by the scare he got from it, he probably would have thought it felt rather… nice. To be fair, ‘warm’ and ‘soft’ were the words he had chosen to describe it with, although subconsciously. He could probably use the comfort too. This isn’t to suggest George is scared of the dark, per say, he just thought it would be quite soothing to hold a warm hand, that’s all!...
“I should probably apologize about earlier too. I wasn’t paying attention and kicked the ball in the wrong direction and…” Suddenly it all made sense why he would try and take the blame for the whole… hullabaloo back in the courtyard. It was his fault, of course! It’s quite obvious, George thought, wondering why it hadn’t clicked in his mind earlier. “I wouldn’t have thought it would hurt that badly, though, I must admit. Your scream was… well, describing it as ‘deafening’ would be an understatement.” George could hear the smile in Clay’s voice, but Clay couldn’t see the glare George was sending him in the dark.
“Don’t give yourself too much credit, you didn’t hit me that hard!” The brunette exclaimed, annoyance seeping through his voice. Even without being able to see the other boy, George could feel the confusion in the air. “Ah, yes, of course.” Clayton said sarcastically.
“I am being serious! Your girlish kick of the ball in my face wasn’t why I screamed.” Why… had he said that?! That was so stupid! George impulsively wanted to defend his honor, he couldn’t just let Clay think he was weak, but he didn’t realize he had set himself up to explain what actually caused him to yell… A stain. On his trousers! That was even more embarrassing than letting him think he just got hurt. Ugh, he’s such an idiot.
“Girlish?! Did you or did you not let out the most high-pitched screech not even thirty minutes ago?! You’re one to talk…” Fair point, George thinks. He reckoned there’s no need to say anything else, seeing as he only managed to dig himself a deeper hole each time he opened his mouth.
And so then, after minutes of silence, Clayton decided to ask the question, of course . Why wouldn’t he! Aid him into making an even bigger fool of himself, why don’t you! “So…why did you scream?” He asked, ever so calmly, how annoying!
“…ispilledinkovermytrousers…” George mumbled, talking at the speed of light. He wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible, he couldn’t bear the humiliation.
“What was that?” Oh no. He had to repeat it ?! That was mortifying.
Speaking clearly this time, he repeats: “I said: I spilled ink over my trousers…” his words gradually getting quieter and mousy. Silence followed. Nothing but silence. For the next hour or so, in fact. The atmosphere was extremely awkward and it left George wondering if he had said something wrong. They spent the rest of their time in detention not saying a single word.
Next thing he knew, a key was being jammed into the keyhole and the door handle was being turned. Time is up, George supposed. Standing up hurriedly, as to not let their teacher know he had been sitting, he shook Clay by the shoulder, waking him up. He had no idea how long the blonde had been asleep for and by the looks of it the other boy didn’t either.
Mrs. Lewis slowly opened the door, letting them out without an extra scolding. How lucky, George thought sarcastically. She handed back his book and with one last glance at her, he bolted. Speed walking through the hall, he made sure not to look at Clay. He could hear his teacher talking, presumably to the taller boy, but made a point in his head not to turn and check.
Finally bursting out of the gates of the school yard he started heading home, still walking as fast as he could. The wind was hitting his face and almost knocked his hat off his head when he heard a yell behind him: “You walk extraordinarily fast for someone with such short legs!” Without needing to turn around and take a look, he already knew who it was. He slowed his steps, letting Clay catch up to him.
“They’re not that short!” He muttered once the other boy appeared in his peripheral vision, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
“What are you following me for anyway?” George asked snappily.
“Well, my house is that way, for one” that had him a bit confused, to be honest. He’d never seen him go this way before. Then again, he hasn’t really been paying attention to where his classmates head off after school, it’s simply none of his concern. “and I was also wondering if you wouldn't mind... taking these trousers off?” George stopped in his tracks. WHAT?! No, no, no this wouldn’t do. How dare he?! If this isn’t the most inappropriate, suggestive sentence he had ever heard…
“Excuse me?!”
“I- I meant it as in… replace the pair you are w-wearing right now…” George stared in disbelief, eyebrows raised as high as they could go. “NO! This came out wrong, let me rephrase.” Clay took a short breath and spoke again: “What I meant to say was: Please allow me to buy you a new pair of trousers.” He brought a finger up, as if he knew George was about to speak. “Let me finish, please”
“I would like to compensate you, seeing the severity of the damage I managed to cause. To the pair you’re wearing, that is. Which I do apologize for, by the way.” He stood there waiting for an answer, putting his hands in the pockets of his perfectly fine trousers to shield them from the cold.
Alright so that was cleared up. Still, George couldn’t allow this. He wouldn’t let himself be pitied.
“No.” He said, confidently picking his pace back up, leaving Clay behind.